B's kissable demeanor

I want to be famous! says B. gently swooshing her tongue over her thickish lips.

What's stopping you? I replied - I only now realize that I wished there was something that did.

You're never giving me credit. You know? I mean.. What am I to you? Supposedly you had to describe me as if your life depended on the speech. What would you say? How would you start?

Dearest B. I don't want my life to depend on the accuracy of my description of you. I'd rather it didn't.

I guess this is stopping me then.
Her eyes dimmed in light and sparkle. I almost felt guilty for that, but carried on:

My refuse to play a childish game of extolling you?

Precisely!

Well why don't you tell me? What would you have me say?

I have considered it to be honest.

Why doesn't it surprise me? (It didn't. Not in the slightest bit. She's so much out of the ordinary that it would be against her well set order not to have imagined it at least a gazillion times)

I'm not going to tell you, though. You might take credit for it.

It wasn't her words, nor the moment, not even her presence that squeezed out of me this malefic urge to kiss her. I can't explain it. I didn't, though. I might have frightened her. Or, come to think of it, I was frightened that she might respond. How do you take it from there? Just weigh in: Hey, sorry. I simply felt the need to act upon this small kiss. I've done it, now I don't want to take it further it was more of a tongue and cheek moment.

She's not the kind to do that to. It's not in halves and quarters with B. It's all or nothing at all.