A completely wholesome tape: A review

This is a part review part commentary of the tape you know about from context.

I had never been privy to the tape in question. I needed an inspiration, so I went in for research purposes. No, seriously. For research purposes.

In all the discussions that has happened over the years, no one has mentioned how wholesome the tape is. I understand, I understand, he may have been cheating his wife (or maybe not) but hear me through this.

It begins.

At first, they're playing. Really playing. He asks her what she wants him to do, and keeps saying 'please'. She tells him to stop asking for permission and start right away. He tries ordering her to do what he wants her to do -- she orders him back. He backs down-- requests again, but the 'please' -es are more muted now. She laughs. She will do what she wants to -- whether he wants it or not. In this particular scenario, they both seem to want the same set of things.

The parts that follow immediately are not important for our current purposes.

They are interrupted by a telephone call. He talks to someone over the phone, she calls someone (her dad?) and assures them she's fine, yesyes, she's fine. They both sound tired and bored now, so she tells him she has to go. They argue about the other 'always going early', but that quickly turns around into a tease.

"You always do this," she accuses.

"Yes I do, because you always tell me to", he retorts.

She laughs. He laughs.

She's a brave, brave woman. As if the events following have not shown already. She says, in the strongest Newari accent one can expect from her (quite heavy) -- malai chai kaile pani (mumbles). He then suggests they go for another round. She doesn't sound very excited-- in her sleepy voice she goes 'mmm mmm what?'

They seem to be in a post-coital trash-talk phase.

Then the viewer notices he's moaning, and her head is between his legs. That explains her mumbles. Is she doing this because she wants to shut him up, one wonders.

His hands try to wander between her legs. She asks, 'Did you wash your hands?' The viewer almost loses hope in this wife-cheating hero when he laughs at the question. Perhaps he's a controlling douchebag pretending to be a lover. Perhaps this is all a great game to him. Later in the evening, he's going to his friends and brag how his fked the hot actress chick, perhaps? Happily for this particular reviewer, it was not to be so.

He gets ready to go clean his hands -- takes her legs out of him. The viewer's suspicions also seem to have been the heroine's: after he's proven he's not a douchebag, she loosens things. "No, no," she says. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Yeah, yeah, it's okay, it's okay," she replies. They kiss. He doesn't have to wash his hands -- she trusts him.

"Look at my tummy! Kasto pet-oo bhaa chha mo," she says. He starts kissing her tummy. "Seriously..." she says. He is still kissing her tummy.

"You love it or what," she asks. He kisses her upper body harder.

"Eee what happens if I don't pay the bills?" she asks.

"You have to do the cheque," he says.

There is now a moment of either a great emotional connection or vulnerability. It's likely there's a bit of both. She speaks in thickly Newari-accented English. He talks in a very thick Nepali accent himself-- the kind you want to speak only in front of people you deeply trust -- to make them laugh, to make them trust you. You know the accent I'm talking about. They talk about her finances. He tells her he'd reminded her, but she's still forgotten it. "I reminded you no but you still forgot," he says, translating directly from Nepali.

"When did you remind me?" she counters

"Day before yesterday, remember. I told you you have to pay your bills and you said hyaaauhhh" he snaps back, but rather lovingly. The Nepali accent is still going strong.

She interrupts him. She says something. They're both interrupting each other now. The viewer sees her lower legs and shadows of his upper body.

"Aba, aba, aba, I don't want to staart, haii," he says, sounding rather tired. Is he tired of the fights with her, or with his wife?, the viewer wonders.

"So what am I gonna' do, huh?" she says, as he caresses and kisses her thigh. He rests his head on her thigh. 'Hmm?" she asks.

Moments of silence. Her body is at the left of the camera, and his back faces the camera. There appears to be no action.

Moans. His or hers? His, definitely. Is she still in a mood to moan right now? What's happening? The shadows tell us the story: her head's shadow, between the shadow of his legs, on the wall.

He's kissing her legs again. He tries to pry her legs apart and kiss, she 'huhh's him away. His slight moans continue.

We hear dog barks in the background. Kathmandu's neverending traffic. Someone shouting to whoever outside.

The phone rings again. It is ignored now.

He slaps lovingly on her thigh. Then he rolls into her, while she's still onto him, towards the left of the camera. The viewer is left with the view of her lower legs.

No sound, except the static of the microphone. Where are the dogs gone now, those dastardly noisy beasts of Kathmandu nights?

Her legs take an angle. Lapping sounds. You've heard this story before.

He is gasping for more air. A loud car horn. Sounds of children talking on the stairs, returning perhaps from their evenings games or restaurants. The dogs have started barking again.

Her breath is getting heavier and more nasally vocal. He whispers, "Are you there yet?" to her navel. She doesn't reply. Her legs lose their angle. He gasps for more air. He gives up his quest. The viewer starts wondering what she's up to.

She has not given up yet. He is getting louder. He rests his head on her knees, and gets up to pick up the camera.

The viewer is subjected to uninteresting shots of the Nepali female genitalia, and the insecurities of the owner of the aforementioned organs. Somehow between the shots, she must have put on the red jacket.

Things that aren't as interesting in terms of storytelling happen for the next couple of minutes. One could summarize them thus: she appears to be quite dedicated to him. He gets a hickey on upper-legs, but that doesn't really take our story anywhere.

She's tired, and she's very sweaty. Her eyes are tightly shut. There's no technical intercourse going on. She's just wants to sleep. She wants to go home. He is not done yet. At one point, she falls on the bed, and takes a couple of seconds to collect herself, her eyes closed.

"Can you turn it off?" she says to him.

"Really?" he says.

"It's reaallly disturbing..." she says, " I mean the light. The light."

The viewer wonders if she's entirely sober at this point. She looks tired and confused. She has given up on going home by now. She will sleep on any bed, as long as she is let to sleep comfortably. The comforts of home this is not, she knows. One has a hard time not wondering if she ruminated about the future during the encounter.

What place is this? Is it one of the seedy Inns of Thamel?  Did she always have that red jacket, or did she go to her closet and change? In which case, why doesn't she look like she's home if this is her home. It's unlikely this is her house: the phone conversation says otherwise. The red jacket could be his, though that would not explain the absence of his wife. What about the flowery pillows and dirty curtains? Do the owners of the Inn(presumably) make money off selling the room as the encounter spot of our hero and heroine? Greater research needs to be done in this field.

The viewer sees a 'V' shaped structure. Her legs, one assumes. The ceiling, it becomes clearer.

The camera switches off. End.