In Between the Sheets

I prefer silent women who take their pleasure with apparent indifference.My predilection is for pleasure unmitigated by the yappings and whinings of the soul.All the unhappiness of the past seemed now to have been necessary to make the present possible. It will come, you see, it will comeshe died, she came, she left this sublunary world... her first orgasmWith those other guests of mine I always felt conversation to be an obstacle course over ditches and fences of contradiction, competition, misunderstanding and so on. My ideal conversation is one which allows both participants to develop their thoughts to their fullest extent, uninhibitedly, without endlessly defining and refining premises and defending conclusions. Without ever reaching conclusions.Of my childhood, my father's death rattle, my mother's terror of sexuality, my own sexual initiation with an elder cousin;a lifetime talking on the phoneshe did not find it hard to conceal her feelingsIt is my belief that he never knew that I knew, and this at least gave me the illusion of power over him.I was locked in the miserable dungeon of my mind and the situation seemed utterly hopeless. It was all or nothing.I thought I saw my own soul recede from me across a vast black void till it was a pinprick of red light.I came as she died. That much I can say with pride. I know her death was a moment of intense pleasure to her.