Yes; yes; yes. At its most elegant, seduction isn't much more than a series of carefully timed agreements, and Rose is quite adroit at organizing what Pearl would find agreeable. Wouldn't that be lovely? Aren't you just the sweetest thing? Doesn't that feel nice?

Every "yes" is another tick of gravity to have her sinking into herself, and it might be Rose's favorite sight. Seeing Pearl actually yield to the nerves she wastes so many grating minutes of the day ignoring. So many feelings suppressed. Rose is clueless how a dancer with such a physically gifted body can also be so emotionally constipated about it.

But that fact is flexible. Rose keeps the kiss tender. She lets her lips soothe Pearl with You're safe, safe, while the hand petting between her hips insists You're mine, mine.

Rose also acknowledges that another minute in these clothes might be her last on planet Earth.

Heated, humming, Rose speaks low into the kiss: "I need to move you back, hon. Just fot a minute." (Can't resist a little hard-candy nip.) "Can you do that for me?"