Heva, naked Eve. She had no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.

He pulled himself close to her again, now resting a hand on her stomach, dipping an idle finger into her navel.

"Because if that isn't what you want, where's the enjoyment in it? I can do that any time I want. But it isn't what I always want."