He's 39, a writer, waiting for better days. She's ten years younger, an arts graduate. Both married, both bored. Lust at first sight. And so they fuck each other and keep fucking each other, just about everywhere in every way, and their desire increases. Drugged on each other, they just want more. They don't talk much. But they do keep notes. Her fill the left-hand pages of this short, shattered novel, his the right.
Alternately dazed and lucid, shrewd and bewildered, they provide a precise description of sexual passion: its smells and tastes, fluids and stains. Of the rest of their lives, they record a few fragments: names of designers, novelists, pop singers, brief scenes from their marriages like clips from old films. Their erotic journey begins in a hotel room, and ends in a toilet cubicle.
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