Valentino1977

Lorna Sinclair:
Hurt me. Don't be gentle. Imagine you're the sheik on your big white stallion, rushing the life out of me in your arms. Don't be gentle. Hurt me! Do something! Oh, look! Look! It's the desert. Close your eyes. Trust me, honey, I've been over this a thousand times. It's the desert. Merciless. Beating sun. Heat wave shimmering from the purple dunes. My lips are rimmed with sweat. Perspiration, excuse me. The clothes are sticking to the contours of my damp body. You come riding up. You reach down and with one brown shriveling arm, scoop me into the saddle. Faster and faster we ride. Your strong hands turn my little body to shreds. Feel your fingers groping my thighs, pawing at my swollen breasts, plunging it into me now, with your sharp crack of leather as the riding whip cuts into my flesh, thundering, oh, and groaning leather, until, Rudie! Rudie! Rudie! Alas, I am, spent! Rudie, Rudie, you were so wonderful. I think I'm gonna die.

Rudolph Valentino:
Ha-ha. No, Lorna, We're going to be late for work.