"Wow, failll, Hyacinthe," Xanthippe told him, leading him around the couch. But kind of slowly, just because she wasn't interested in pulling at all away from him. So it was kind of a lot of shuffling.

But shuffling hips to hips led to a lot of friction, which was fine.

"But you can make it up to me --" Because somehow this was a fail that hurt her? Enough that it needed making up for? "-- by telling me about some of the versions you did fantasize about."