Interview with Author, Dominatrix, and F-Girl Emme Witt-Eden

This week our good friend and talented writer, Emme Witt-Eden, a.k.a. “Mysterious Witt,” became a full-fledged author with the publication of her memoir: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl. (You can read our review here.)

She was generous enough to sit down with us for an interview about the book, writing, marriage, and of course, sex.

Promo for Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

 

L – Congrats on your new book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl! And thank you for letting me (or us – me and my man, H.H.) read it ahead of time to write a review. We loved it! We each devoured it in about three days. When we got together to talk about it, we devoured each other. What a sexy ready. But it’s also so personal – I mean, it is a memoir after all. Since it is a memoir, as opposed to an autobiography, it only portrays a sliver of your life – from the time your marriage fell apart to your emerging as a self-aware, self-confident f-girl. Tell us how you’d characterize yourself in your marriage and before. I mean, in the memoir you say you “claimed” your sexuality, not “reclaimed it,” because you felt like you never actually had it to begin with, but what was your sexuality (real and fantasy life) like before?

EWE – Ha-ha! I wouldn’t characterize myself as a completely self-confident f-girl in my book. I was still suffering from quite a bit of insecurity and was working my way through this throughout the entirety of the book. But I did definitely find myself again through sex, even though I still met with other challenges, such as some bad matches in bed and a guy who totally broke my heart.

But back to the other part of your question. I would say that my sexuality has fluctuated quite a bit throughout my life. I was very prude and full of shame in my younger life, even if I had sex for the first time at 15. I really didn’t enjoy penetration and a lot of it was because I felt like I was doing something bad. I come from a very conservative family and sex was always framed as something that I was giving up to a man who would use me if I wasn’t careful (and prude). And even after I got married, I should still feel shame surrounding sex, because my parents definitely treated their sex life – or what I knew about their sex life – in that way. Sex was something to hide at all costs, they were not going to talk to me about it, and I was not allowed to ask about it. I hate to say, but as I came into my own as a young woman, I suffered quite a bit from the mother wound, meaning my mother had a very negative view of sex, and I, sadly, adopted that.

I only started to open up – sexually speaking – when I became a dominatrix after college (pre-marriage!). But I didn’t see that job as sexual. I thought domming was just about treating men like garbage. (If you’d like to learn more about this era of my life, please read my newsletter The Accidental Dominatrix.) Nevertheless, my job as a pro-domme helped me deal with some of my shame. Little by little, my body image improved, and I started to explore myself sexually. And yet, during that time, I still maintained the belief that I had to keep my body count low or no man would ever want to commit to me. I did not embrace, nor did I completely own my sexuality, in that era, though I was on my way to getting there. This is why I say that I only finally “claimed” my sexuality after I left my first husband, as even when I was working in the sex industry as a dominatrix, I was still quite prude and felt like I was always at the mercy of men whom I let have so much control over me emotionally.

Fortunately, after my divorce, I finally worked through these issues. Finally, I was able to enjoy sex just for sex – and that was incredibly liberating! In that regard, I say that I finally “claimed” my sexuality. I hope that makes sense.

And…. to fully answer your question, I would say that I did have some BDSM fantasies even when I was working as a pro-domme. I had the desire to be dominated, but for the reasons I explained, I wasn’t ever able to experience it in a satisfying way. Back then, kink wasn’t viewed as it is today, as this fun thing that’s pretty benign, just a way to spice up sex. Back then (this was the 90s), kink was seen as a pathology. Though I had kink fantasies, when I would tell my lovers about them, they always thought I had some sort of mental issue. This was extremely painful and I’m very glad that we’re much more open today about the healthy, normal reality of kink.

A little cross-endorsement from Emme Witt-Eden

L – You’ve been in the lifestyle for some time now. As I recall, you used to not show your face in your posts on Medium.com and other social media, but now you do. Does this mean you’re “out” to your friends and family? And, I guess most importantly, does your ex-husband David know about this memoir?

EWE – Yes, you’re right, there was a time when I didn’t show my face because I was very keen on protecting my family from scandal. LOL. But seriously, I have kids whom I wanted to protect. I was also protecting my conservative family from embarrassment and pain. I’ve already been told that I’ve hurt my family. Quite a few of my family members know about my dominatrix past. It’s just so much pressure on me to feel like I’m bringing people so much pain just for exploring and writing about my own sexuality. I know this sounds crazy! But to make everyone happy and to keep the peace I once decided to hide my identity.

Not just that, there’s a part of me that likes privacy. I have a social life with other parents from my kids’ school and I just don’t feel like having to explain some of my life choices to these people. And I think many of us are like this. We have a face we show one set of friends and colleagues and a face we show another. We might have a professional face that we show our workplace friends, but they don’t know what goes on in our bedroom. I’ve happened to have chosen to make a profession out of what goes on in my bedroom and so it’s created this tension. A lot of people are simply not the appropriate recipients of the spicy news of my sex life. So, when they find out about it, I have to first listen to their judgments, and then decide whether we’re going to continue to be friends. This has basically resulted in me having much fewer friends, because, as a rule, people are very close-minded.

A couple of years ago, when I decided to show my face, several things had happened. I realized that I wasn’t going to get ahead in my writing career unless I started revealing what I look like. And when I did, I knew I would lose people. And so I basically had to get to the point where I was so tired of hiding parts of myself that I realized it was better to lose everyone. I’m just not interested in perpetuating the balancing act of ensuring certain people like me by hiding so much of myself. I’m finally ready to own up to who I am and that’s why I started showing my face. Of course, I still write under a pseudonym for now. Part of that is to just protect myself from trolls. It’s a crazy world out there, I’ll tell ya. Oh, and David does know I’ve written about him. He doesn’t care enough about my writing to give a crap, though. God, I’m glad we’re divorced.

L – Are your kids old enough to know about your “alternative” lifestyle? Have you told them or did they find out? Or will you be telling them at some appropriate time?

EWE – My kids still aren’t old enough and it’s really not appropriate for me to talk about it with them. However, my second husband, the man whom I’m currently married to, really applauds the way that I talk about sex with my kids. I’m very open and I talk about sex in a very calm and clinical manner. I don’t clam up and feel shame or tell my kids to stop asking questions. My current husband wasn’t like that with his kids and so he looks at my openness as this wonderful thing. I am able to guide my children as they learn about their sexuality, and I can do this in an open and honest way. And that is the result of the life I’ve led. But when the time is right, when my children older, I will tell them more about my life. I no longer feel shame. I’ve led the life I have because I’m curious and felt like a major part of my humanity was basically off-limits to me because I’m a female. I simply decided to explore those taboo territories. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Emme Witt-Eden

L – In the book you mention taking a creative writing class (and crushing on the professor). Would you workshop your erotic stories in the class, or did you keep it PG for the other students (and the hot professor)?

“Hey Emme, where you going?”
“My creative writing class.”

EWE – Hells no, I never workshopped my erotic stories in class. But I was writing a novel about the implosion of my marriage. It was basically a thinly veiled memoir, and a couple of those chapters did make it into Confessions, though in different form. I published a lot of the other stories under a different account on Medium. Yep, I get around… But no, I have never workshopped my erotic stories, and honestly, even my novelized stories have scandalized people. Sometimes I really hate other writers. I find writers to be the most conservative group of creative people. Musicians and visual artists are so much more chill.

L – What inspired you to turn your shorter works of writing into a book-length memoir?

EWE – Once again, I felt like I could get farther ahead in my career by actually having a book. A book gets people’s attention the way shorter pieces don’t, even though my shorter pieces have been quite lucrative. But writing a book is also a huge risk. If a shorter piece bombs, it’s no big deal, you just write another one. If a book bombs, then you’ve spent quite a while writing it and that sucks. Fingers crossed this project does well.

L – Care to share some of your favorite authors and/or books?

EWE – In the last year, I’ve been reading a lot of Annie Ernaux, Virginie Despentes, and Guadalupe Nettel. In my heart, I’m a literary fiction fanatic. Oh, and Maggie Nelson’s books are the bomb.

L – Care to share some of your favorite erotic authors and/or books and/or porn?

EWE – I like Japanese porn a lot because the actors tend to look like they’re actually enjoying the action, instead of just acting for the camera. American porn is so histrionic with the actors acting so fake, continually looking toward the camera because they know they’re being filmed. It’s obvious it’s a performance, and as a female, that’s a turn-off for me. Men probably don’t notice it, but I do. I’m not sure how you categorize your Match, Cinder & Spark series, but your man, HH, writes some of the best erotica I’ve read! And the photos and art of you are – well, let’s just say “inspiring”!

Emme Witt-Eden getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts, in public. An author, avid erotica reader, dominatrix, and exhibitionist!

L – I noticed in the memoir that, with all the f-girl shenanigans you got up to, there was no girl-on-girl, anal, bondage, or water sports. You make it very known in the book what you do and don’t like. Are those not on your kinks list or did you grow into them later?

EWE – Oh, there was a little bit of bondage in the first chapter of Confessions. You’ll have to wait for the girl-on-girl action for the new book I’m writing. In terms of anal, that’s not something that I typically engage in as a hookup, so there wasn’t much in this book. Luckily, my current husband is the one who gets to enjoy having his dick up my ass. In terms of water sports, that’s something I explored as a dominatrix but honestly, I’m not really into that.

L – What advice, if any, would you give to young married mothers who are in committed, but rather unstimulating relationships, somewhat like you were in just at the start of the memoir?

EWE – My advice? Well, they committed to this guy for a reason, so they might as well make the best of it. I would advise doing everything they can not to let the passion die. I would schedule date nights and sex. A lot of people don’t like to schedule sex because they think that’s not romantic. Well, this is just the way it is once you get married and have kids. We can no longer drop everything and have sex whenever we want. So schedule sex. Don’t, and watch the passion fizzle away.

Then again, if you’ve tried everything and it’s still not working out, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with considering a divorce. That or an open marriage. Non-monogamy is no longer perceived as the crazy thing it once was, so I think it’s a great way to deal with mismatched libidos

L – Any bucket list goals you hope to achieve this year?

EWE – I really want to get the sequel of this book done!

L – What can we expect from future publications by you?

EWE – You can expect my second book in this series: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-girl in Costa Rica. And then my third: Diary of a Middle-Aged Sugar Baby.

L – Thanks Emme! We cannot wait to see those books come out as well as a prequel about your time as a dominatrix!!!

You can find Emme Witt-Eden, a.k.a. Mysterious Witt here:

F-girl dating Instagram: @mysterious_witt

Kinky consultant Instagram: @emmewitteden

www.emmewitt.com

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Two weeks ago we were lucky enough to be asked by our dear friend, Emme Witt-Eden (known to many of you as “Mysterious Witt”), if we would read and review her newly published memoir: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl. We said “YES!” very enthusiastically.

We weren’t disappointed. The book was a pleasure to read. It was a page turner and the short chapters were bite-sized but delicious! We each devoured it and then, when we got together to discuss the review, we devoured each other!

Here is the review of the book. In the next post we’ll have an exclusive interview with the author!

Promo for Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Fuck Eat, Pray, Love.  Read Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl instead. There’s more sex, more insight, and it’s better written. Oh, and there’s also more sex.  Did I mention that?

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions takes you, the reader, on a journey from her midlife, middle-class, middling marriage to her terrific, if tormented, sexcapades of self-sexploration.

After Emme’s husband confesses to having a string of affairs, facilitated by Ashley Madison, Emme decides it’s high time to declare the time of death on her nearly non-existent sex life and venture out into the world of L.A. dating.

Emme first browses the Casual Encounters page of Craigslist (the story begins over a decade ago) to find her next cock to conquer. After a few revelatory romps in the sack, she then transforms into a “Middle-Aged Fuck-Girl.” Emme prefaces the book with six “definitions” of a fuckgirl. I have always thought of a fuckgirl as a modern take on the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but one who doesn’t just flit about like Holly Golightly, but also gets down and dirty, living up to the updated title. (Although, to be fair, Holly Golightly was a prostitute, or, as Truman Capote said, a New York City “geisha.”)

If I am correct in this comparison between f-girls and MPDGs, then it may be that Emme is neither, for another defining characteristic of both is an almost complete lack of inner depth, subjectivity, and interiority, as well as a compulsion to define oneself as simply and merely the romantic interest (some may say ‘play-thing’) of a man. Any man. All men.

By contrast, the defining characteristic of this memoir (as it should be for any memoir) is Emme’s self-reflection (in some passages, literally), her sense of inner growth and turmoil, and quite poignantly, her feelings of responsibility to her children, guilt and remorse about her failed marriage, and longing to find herself.

This travelogue to the depths of Emme’s soul and the bedrooms of single and married men around L.A. is told through a crisp narrator who uses some beautiful metaphors. Reflecting on her insecurity about entering the dating world as a forty-year-old single mom of two, Emme says, “If my new boat was bogged down with my issues, I decided sex would be my life raft.”

The overarching “issue” is Emme’s reeling in pain from the shock of her husband’s prolific infidelity and, even more than this, his ability to deceive Emme for so many years into thinking that he just wasn’t interested in sex. As it turned out, he was interested in sex, just not with her (until she throws him out, that is).

Consciously or unconsciously, or maybe unconsciously until, in the process of writing it became conscious, Emme’s promiscuity was a way of taking revenge on her philandering husband David, as well as feeling her own feminine power. Emme’s vagina becomes both the site of her emotional charging station – “With each thrust of Kent’s cock, he pushed life back into me.” – and a symbolic scar – “his actions were akin to a knife reopening the wound left by David’s betrayal.”

With each new partner, Emme learns something about herself. When one of her paramours wishes to photograph her nude, she says, “Undressing in front of Russell felt like shedding not just clothes, but also the roles I had been trapped in for years. It was as if with each piece of fabric that fell away, I was peeling back layers of the persona I had created alongside David – and identity that had never truly aligned with who I was.”

The newly single-and-ready-to-mingle Emme is eager to shed her partnered persona. “Wife. Mother. These titles clung to me like a suffocating cloak, concealing the essence of the woman I truly was.”

Finding the woman she truly was involved feeling sexy, desired, and often high on orgasm induced oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. The transformation was palpable, including by her children, one of whom remarked that she seemed “80% nicer” than she was when with her husband.

But the path to putting her past behind her wasn’t as easy as she was. It involved some bad dates, some duds, some “blue labia,” and sometimes simply the blues. Emme is not only a complex and likable narrator, she, unlike Elizabeth Gilbert, is concerned about others. She is put off by men who are self-absorbed, self-centered, and worst of all, sexually selfish. She connects with others who, like herself, are able to give-and-take in both conversation and bed.

Realizing that some men just didn’t feel it necessary to reciprocate pleasure, or were too lazy to do so, she begins carrying a “pocket rocket” with her on dates. Her breaking the fourth wall narration is endearing, as when she explains, “I get it – this might sound illogical. Hear me out on this one. If I wanted to make sure I had an orgasm on every date – and I wanted to have one with a man – if he couldn’t handle that, I could speed things along with a vibe. If I always had a vibrating friend on hand when I ended up in bed with these guys, I would always be guaranteed an orgasm.”

She’s also very funny when she tosses caution to the wind and upgrades to carrying with her a very large, bulky, and heavy Hitachi Magic Wand in a backpack when she goes on dates. Can’t say I blame her. It gets the job done in a jiffy! And it can double as a serious weapon in a pinch!

In addition to most of Emme’s epiphanies occurring in various bedrooms around L.A., rather than having to travel to distant lands, as Gilbert did, Emme also stands leagues apart from Gilbert in her care of and for others, particularly her children. And, in a way that characterizes Emme’s humanity and humility in ways easily distinguished from Gilbert, Emme is not beyond self-reproach and self-doubt. As she muses:

I feared their [bad] behavior was actually my fault. It was my fault for letting them eat donuts so close to dinner. It was my fault that I buckled to their donut demands in the first place. It was my fault that I was in love with Zachary. It was my fault that he was gone.

And it was my fault that David and I couldn’t make our marriage work. It was my fault he cheated on me. I had withheld sex, so he found other covert lovers. His cheating was totally understandable. I was to blame.

And now my new lover had dumped me because I wouldn’t show my face in a ‘Casual Encounters’ ad.

I was to blame for everything.

No, this is not sexy. This is not MPDG material. This is not fuck-girl fun. But it is real. And deep. And it shows the fear we all feel at one time or another.

At one point, Emme describes the blissful pain of her pussy after a night of little sleep and lots of big dick pile driving with a guy named Bryce. She compares the bush beating discomfort to the euphoric feeling of being sore the day after a good workout. No pain, no gain. The same could be said for Emme’s overall experience as recalled in this memoir. She gained wisdom, but it came with pain. And she came, again, and again, and again.

As Emme Witt-Eden’s online moniker, “mysterious witt,” suggests, she’s a woman of mystery and wit, but also of indomitable spirit and juicy womanly bits. My only regret of this memoir is where it ends. But, it gives me hope that we can expect a sequel describing how this mid-forties f-girl and MILF gets herself into being a dominatrix. Emme, your readers want more! I hope you won’t leave us longing for a second like some of your lovers left you titillated but not satiated. Perhaps the name of her next memoir will be Fuck, Eat, Pray, Love!

A little cross-endorsement from Emme Witt-Eden

Protected: The Phallic Funhouse

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Protected: Reign of Terror

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Protected: Femme-Enfant

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Protected: Sister Sodomy

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Protected: Gateway to Bliss

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Sunstroke

[Continued from Young Lust, Dirty Woman]

Lola at the nude beach

The dad was lying back, sleeping or simply suntanning.  I was sweltering in the sun and so I got up and asked Lo, “How’s the water?”

“So refreshing!”

“Looks a little chilly,” I said as I looked down at her pointy nipples.

“It’s delightful.”

“Seems like you’re delighting in more than the water and weather.”

“Go on, Daddio, try it for yourself.”

Was she trying to get rid of me?

I walked to the water.  It was like bath water.  I didn’t hesitate to get in and cool down as much as I could.  I felt myself burning in the sun, but didn’t want to curtail Lo’s little jaunt.  I thought that maybe, if I stayed in the water, I would avoid a burn.  I knew from experience that was not true, but it felt better to be in the water than shriveling up dry in the sun.  I sat in the shallow water looking out at the Mediterranean.  To my surprise, not much later, the mom walked into the water beside me.  She passed me.  I saw from the back that she was much more heavyset than I had thought when I saw her sitting on the blanket.  She was rather round on the bottom.

Model, Jennifer Battistoni Kincade

She stopped about five feet in front of me and bent over to splash water on her face and shoulders.  As she did so, I could see her FUPA (fat upper pubic area) fall forward like a curtain in front of her.  Her ass was large and round.  There was so much flesh that I couldn’t even see her pussy.  I wondered to myself how her husband fucked her, but then I remembered his enormous member and realized he probably could fuck her from a foot away when fully hard.

The thought crossed my mind that she might be putting on a show for me.  She was very attractive and this view was. . .

Uh oh!  Now I was getting hard.  The tip of my cock was pointing upward like a mushroom growing out of the water.  I dared not stand up because then I’d be even more conspicuous, but what will happen when she turns around?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out because no sooner had the panicked thought presented itself, than she did turn around and look right at me.  I saw her eyes glance down at my attention-grabbing appendage and she smiled!

Thankfully she didn’t say anything.  She just splashed water on her heaving breasts and lifted them up, probably to cool down the underside where they pressed up against her belly.  I found it all captivating (and arousing).

While I was contemplating the plump Aphrodite before me, I noticed she was pointing behind me.  I couldn’t see by simply turning my neck and so I had to stand up.  I figured she had seen an erect penis before and that perhaps she’d take it as a compliment, so I got up to look behind me since she seemed insistent that I see.  She was smiling, as if delighted by the vision.

When I turned around, I saw Lo and the boy wrestling or wriggling on the sand.  Then I realized they were having a tickle fight.  The mom said, “Bella, bella!”  That I understood.  She thought it was beautiful how they were getting along.  She was indicating to me her approval.  She doesn’t know Lo.

I walked back up to the blanket and saw that the two of them had separated.  Lo was sitting in the sand, her legs spread, heaving heavily.  I saw that between her legs, the sand was darker – wet.  Oh boy.  Did she?

“Squirt or pee?” I asked her, judgmentally.

“Both?” she said, guiltily.

“Lo.”

The father said something to me and I turned my head and saw the mom still cooling down in the water.  The baby was in a small carrying seat with a makeshift tent over it.

The father repeated his question to me.  I turned to him.  He was holding his massive cock and pointing at Lo.  “Scoparla?” he said, or something like that.

I was ignorant.

“Fuck,” he finally said in English.  “Fuck her.”  This he knew.  But I was still uncomprehending of whether he wanted me to fuck her or if he wanted to fuck her himself.  So I did the only polite thing and said, “Si, si.”

I soon had my answer, for he got down in the sand on his knees and stroked his cock as he looked at Lo’s shimmering body and glistening pussy lips.  Soon he was inside her.  He fucked her violently.

Lo, for her part, wrapped her legs around his wide torso and began to moan and groan and say, “Yes, fuck me.”  I think it then dawned on her that he couldn’t understand anything she said other than fuck, so she repeated the term many times.

I looked at the boy who stood to the side of the four armed, four legged beast and watched with wide eyes and an erect penis.  He held his diminutive dick in his hand just as his father had done.

Lo then started saying, “Fuck me you ugly, fat, disgusting old perv!  Fuck me with that massive cock of yours!  You are so abhorrently hideous!  A sea monster, really!”

Occasionally, other beach goers would walk by without stopping.  The mother was in the water, no doubt aware of what was happening, but unconcerned.

“Yes, you gross fucking single tentacled kraken!  That’s my spot.  Fuck!”  Lo is quite poetic when her pussy is activated.

Then she was unable to speak as her body began convulsing.  She looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy by her side, and her eyes communicated everything: delight, ecstasy, pleasure, pain, longing, satisfaction, disgust at herself and the man on top of her, triumph.

The dad kept on plunging into Lo’s gushing cunt, oblivious of her climax and desirous of his.  He pulled his torso up off of Lo’s and held her by her ankles, her legs up in the air, as he fucked her like a piece of meat hanging in the outdoor market.  He then let go of her ankles and greedily grabbed and squeezed her breasts.  He began to slap them and she responded with more sounds of pleasure.  He slapped her tits silly.  She began to cum again, but before she could, he spurted his spunk deep inside her.  She could feel it and that was all she needed to push her over the edge.  Her legs began to tremble and her tits rose and descended with her fast, deep breaths.

All this time her eyes remained fixed on the boy and it was as if the two of them were telepathically communicating mysterious words of love and compassion in a common, yet private language.

The father pulled his incredibly long lance out of Lo’s clam and soon after liquid pearl began to drizzle from her widely dilated lips onto the sand.

The dad and the son stood side-by-side looking down at the kill.  There was a touching moment when the son’s little hand reached to his father’s large one and held it as they gawked at Lo lying on the ground, immobile.

Then, from between Lo’s legs a sudden dribble of pee percolated and puddled by her ass.  The father and son duo smiled at the sight and, as if it gave them both the idea and permission, they too released their bladders and showered Lo with their golden streams.  More than once the father’s and son’s lines crossed and crisscrossed again over Lo’s body as they drenched her in a double dosage of warm urine.

When they were done, Lo was recovered and she got up and walked right past me into the sea.  I saw her exchange smiles and some words with the mother who was still bathing there.  I glanced at the father-son team and smiled a ridiculously twisted grin, feeling awkward and stupid.  They both laughed and went back to sitting on the towel together.  I noticed that the father’s meat hung down now, nearly to his knees.  It no longer had the arch to it that it did when we first arrived.  It was completely flaccid.  The son’s was still rigid though.

When Lo returned from her purifying bath, she said, “OK, Daddy, I think it’s time to go.  I’m beginning to burn.”

“No doubt from the jealousy of Aphrodite Ourania and Aphrodite Pandemos.”

“What?” she asked.

“You make the goddesses of desire hot with jealousy.”

“You flatter,” she said, smiling.

I put my clothes back on.  Lola put on her bikini top and bottom, but carried her shorts and t-shirt.  Lo waved and smiled at the family and patted the little boy on the head before giving him a matronly kiss on the cheek.