Not that Clover even felt of cares that Emilie was fisting her shirt like a baby might have. She wouldn't have cared if someone was punching her or fucking her. Right now the real world is out there and she's safe behind the shield of pleasure and illusion. The world is color. The world is exploding in lights and spice, the big bang didn't happen 13 billion years ago, it's happening right now and in her wake a trillion universes have been formed.
It might have been strange to look in on the two women and see what they were up to. They may have looked dead. All curled in on each other. Besides the sigh, clover is barely breathing. She's like a beached fish, her mouth sucking in air when her mind and body decide to work in tandem.
It will take a little while to get over the initial punch of ecstasy. Not that it's empty behind her vacant gaze. At this moment she's skating over Europa.