Do I move you?
‘Do I Move You?’ from Anthology
Whatever else she may have been, Nina Simone could be queen of the barn-burner when she wanted. When Austin Powers lost his mojo, he would have needed little more than this song, the epitome of what I like to call the smokey-bar blues, to regain it. How could you not instantly want to get down-’n-dirty when exposed to this potent 2:45 siren song? Just listen to those wailing harmonicas ... Struggling with bedroom eyes, folks? Here’s your ticket.
And yet, in “Do I Move You?” Nina manages to pose that one question worse than “Do I look fat?” By the end of the song, she’s got him backed up against a wall or the bed — you just know it. I’ll wager the man she was singing to felt not just a little terror should he fail to demonstrate adequate satisfaction. Come to think of it, this might just be the number capable to teaching men to fake an orgasm ...
When I touch you, do you quiver ...
from your head down to your liver.
If you like it, let me know it!
The answer better be “Yes .... yes ...
Great God Almighty, that pleases me!”
Other assorted ‘findings’ from this week ...
- Tantric sex = good, but may result with control-freak men. (Tidbit from another writer, shared at a rooftop Brooklyn barbeque.)
- Messenger bags are hot when worn by women. Which is to say, the way the strap separates our breasts is hot. I guess they just like spread in general ... (Inside scoop from a guy friend, shared over dinner in a French cafe.)
- Law school is the baby-clock for men. Women who age fear they’re too old to still have natural-born children. Men who age fear they’re too old to still take a stab at law school. (Insight gained from cocktail chitchat with a bunch of current and aspiring lawyers.)
- Narcissism is hip again! Recent comments from anonymous readers indicate my failure to use the cover of anonymity to reveal deep, personal secrets of the Broadway story is, well, a disappointment. Too bad there wasn’t a reply-to email so I could share the “Earl” of my other blog.
Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me