Whatever works

Lying in bed, lights on, some clothes on, just enjoying each other.

Blake: “How do you see me, like a teenage boy?” (which, I suppose she might resemble except for her eyelashes out to mars and curves that her clothes often cover).

I laugh, “no, well I see you naked, so I think of you as pretty feminine,” and I eye her up and down with a smile.

“Really? ‘Cause I just think of myself as a genderless ball of love.”