By the time Jess and Paul actually started rounding the bases, she had all sorts of obscene things flitting around in her adorable little head. What started off with a dirty talk ("Hello, weather service? There's a heat wave from Portsmouth to Port Kansas!") carried on as she flipped Paul over to slap his "caboose" while he riffed in Jimmy Stewart-speak. Somewhere along the way, her old time radio voice morphed into Mae West by way of a stuffy-nosed old school marm ("Young man! The things I'm gonna do to you! Don't take all day! I'm not getting any younger!"). This only flustered Paul -- still in Stewart voice -- who bumbled, "I understand, ma'am, but you're wearing chainmail... It's like an erotic rope course!" Then things got lumberjack-y ("I'm gonna split you like a log!"). Make. It. Stop. (But also, I could probably watch this forever...)
For a second, they kissed normally, and you thought -- hoped! -- the sextastrophe would normalize. Alas, Jess introduced a light choking into the mix, triggering Paul's fight-or-flight response. After spending the night alone, Jess was understandably disheartened. Winston gave her a pep talk, telling her to stop overthinking and be herself (Express the Jess!). Paul returned and admitted all Jess's (presumed) experience and kink intimidated him. He vowed to try anything she wanted -- except fire, handcuffs, felt, polyurethane, or bugs -- for the pleasure (and pain!) of her company. By setting their boundaries, the two dorks dispensed of their mutual nerves and finally they got frisky -- in the building elevator of all places. Best part? Paul had to unclip Jess's overalls to get her naked. Still less complicated than Starfish.
NEXT: Schmidt storms a baby shower