Hm. I looked at many Botticelli paintings when I was in Italy, but I never made the connection between Botticelli and a quality kiss. Of course, when I think Botticelli, my brain goes to the madonna and cherubim place, and I like my thoughts to be a little more unholy than that whilst kissing. In short, a good kiss has never made me think of La Primavera (although a bad one could possibly make me think about pasta primavera), and I can only conclude that I Must Be Doing It Wrong.

And hallelujah for that.

Michael’s voice set goose-bumps on Nikita’s skin like if he was there warming the cockles of her imagination with his gifted insights.

I've got it! Someone's playing Porn Mad Libs.

Her imagination has cockles? My imagination doesn't have cockles. Now I feel all deprived.

Which end are the cockles on? Maybe it's the porny part... cause you know...cock?

Your imagination has ends?

God, I'm such a loser.

God, I'm such a loser.

Think about David Anders grinning. It'll help.

So will thinking about Sawyer and Sayid grappling in the sand.

And, you know, then you could think about Catherine and Warrick kissing in a hallway, the breathless kind of kissing that's warm and wet and tongue and urgent hands.

then you could think about Catherine and Warrick kissing in a hallway, the breathless kind of kissing that's warm and wet and tongue and urgent hands.

I have no idea who these characters are, and yet I really want to see it.

I don't know...I've never taken it out and looked at it, actually. I just assumed... (I guess if I did, I know what my writing would look like.)

The pictures can only help.

Catherine (Marg Helgenberger): [link]

Warrick (Gary Dourdan): [link]