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Subject: The Lotus Eaters (Martine Glowinski f/m 1/1)
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This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
from: Martine Glowinski: POINT OF VIEW
Copyright (c) 1993 Spectrum Press Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Published by Spectrum Press Inc.
ISBN 1-57138-225-9
The Lotus Eaters
I'm alone in this great ravaged bed.
George has left with our guests, courageous enough to put on
his clothes and go out. Not me. Naked, I lie extended on the
crumpled sheets. Already I feel languid, and after this thrilling
evening I know sleep will soon overcome me. I struggle a bit. I
want to remain lucid until his return. Without any will, my
spirit in an unconscious haze, I recall again the fantastic
events that brought me here. Despite my half-sleep, I remember
every detail perfectly...
* * *
It began on the 11th of April. Three days earlier I had left
my husband. Weary of a conjugal life filled with disappointments,
incomprehensions and disputes, I packed a suitcase and installed
myself in a hotel. Thanks to the friendship of some people who
approved of my decision, I overcame the crisis of desperation
that had caused my flight. These friends, who were also my office
colleagues, knew everything about my disastrous marital
situation, and they encouraged me to regain a taste for life.
In the beginning, George wasn't really a friend, he was
merely a very good colleague. Of course, like some other men in
the office, he hadn't left me indifferent: the familiarity of the
men in the office always provoked certain erotic fantasies. We
were a close group working for one of the national radio
stations, and most of my colleagues were both creative and
interesting. But since I had a tendency to treat all men alike,
George hadn't noticed that he was one of my favorites. Perhaps it
was my fault, since I never revealed my feelings during our
professional contacts, and I did not behave any differently
towards him than to the others during the occasional foolery that
always occurs in a crowded office. I misbehaved sometimes, but
always because I enjoyed it. I liked the easy banter, the games,
the pranks, and so on. I even enjoyed the physical contact when
it happened. When someone squeezed or shook me, I always felt an
undeniable pleasure, and if George affected me more than the
other men, I concealed it. I ought to have made him understand
it, instead of allowing him to believe I was reacting to him
merely as another male. And then perhaps he believed his chances
with me were compromised. Perhaps he imagined I was unavailable
because I often left the office to go to lunch with a young man
who courted me openly. Nothing serious ever occurred with this
young man, but that didn't matter.
And so it was on the 11th of April, despite a stormy
argument with my husband whose effects I carried with me to the
office, I regained somewhat the amiable and gay personality so
appreciated by my co-workers.
In one afternoon, my outlook changed completely.
Today, again, I'm grateful to George for instigating my
reconciliation with life.
What happened was that on that afternoon George asked me if
I wanted to have lunch with him . . .
* * *
In the restaurant, we spoke briefly about the recent events
that had upset the balance of my spirit and my enjoyment of life.
He listened to me attentively and seemed interested in my
concerns, and that gave me pleasure. He approved when I explained
that I had posed my conditions to my husband, and that since my
husband had accepted them, I had decided to resume our marriage.
George offered some firm advice to make the days to come
more acceptable to me. This revealed to me that he was not a
typical male egoist. He disdained the prerogatives that most men
impose, and I gathered that in his eyes a woman had as many
rights as a man, that in all areas she must feel equal, equally
able to propose, accept, imagine. In his mind, the sentimental,
and particularly sexual, sphere was at the forefront of rights he
granted to the so-called weaker sex.
I gladly confess that on that day he bewitched me. What a
contrast with the uncontrolled egoism of my husband!
It was only during dessert that George spoke again of the
equality of the sexes. I always enjoyed discussions about
sexuality, and I encouraged him to continue. I decided to adopt a
tone that would make him think I accepted the usual division of
privileges between men and women. I would question him frankly. I
did not want to appear prudish, since that has always been
foreign to me---my femininity and my sensuality save me from that
hypocrisy.
His view was that a woman, according to her own dictates,
had also to imagine, accept, and propose in the erotic life of
the couple.
I sensed that he was waiting for me to disagree with him,
and I made a face and did not disappoint him.
I can hear my retort now:
"You're a bachelor. Maybe you wouldn't talk like that if you
were married."
"You're deceiving yourself. I would respect her convictions,
surprising her, certainly, because women in general are
submissive to men."
"Not me! Since I've left my husband!"
"But you're going back to him."
"Oh, it's only provisional. I don't want to reproach myself
for not having tried everything." I pointed an accusing finger at
George. "You said before you approved of it."
"I don't deny that. But it's necessary that you be strong,
that you preserve what you've acquired. Don't give up! Get him to
accept your point of view from time to time. That makes you a bit
more his female and a bit less his servant."
I smiled at the expression. "His female!"
"Yes, his female. It's a crude word, but it's very precise
in its connotation."
"I don't like that word. You ought to find another one.
Wait---wouldn't 'partner' be more appropriate to your views?"
"Yes, if you like it." He looked at me and our eyes locked.
"Do you have orgasms with him? Does he make you come?"
The question was brutal, but I had provoked it. I knew the
character of our discussion would depend on my reply. I did not
want to move to a more banal subject, as some women might have.
As I hesitated, George put his hand on mine and said:
"Don't think your answer will make me judge you badly. Why
shouldn't you have needs in this area?" He smiled at me.
"Equality! Always equality!"
I smiled back at him. "Yes, he makes me come. But hardly.
Does that make me too demanding?"
I diverted my eyes from George. He took my chin and made me
look at him again.
"You must learn to get what you need. But are you sure none
of it is your fault?"
This was becoming a distinct confession, and that pleased
me. I was persuaded of George's discretion, and I did not
hesitate to respond.
"Certainly not. But while he gets what he wants, I can only
wish I had as much. For my part, I've made enough attempts and
they've all failed."
"Maybe you haven't tried hard enough."
Annoyed, I sat up in my chair.
George insisted that I too had responsibilities.
I immediately regretted my gesture of irritation, and to
make him forgive me, and to avoid thwarting the direction of our
conversation, I pleaded:
"You don't know me! I'm... I'm very passionate when I'm
intimate."
He smiled at me. He seemed quite satisfied with my bold
confession. "Yes, you're passionate. That's what gives you the
desire to orgasm. But allow me tell you it's not enough. It's
necessary to also provoke desire in order to have complete sex. A
woman must not only want pleasure, but she must make it known to
her partner. That flatters his pride and makes him want to please
her even more."
"But I don't hide my pleasure. When I have it. And I get
there more easily than you seem to think. But he's afraid of
making me pregnant, and that spoils it when we're doing it."
George gave a start. "What? Am I to understand that he
doesn't finish..."
"No! Never! Never there where it's necessary."
"The imbecile! He therefore doesn't know there's nothing
more agreeable to a woman than to feel her conqueror rendered
helpless in her depths..."
I smiled at him again. "My God, the way you talk about it!"
"I can talk about it another way, but maybe the words will
offend you."
I laughed. "I'm not a child, you know."
"But some women are offended."
"Perhaps."
"Do you speak to your husband about sex?"
I understood George was not happy with my confidences, and
that he wanted to probe further, to know if I really understood
that for him the woman had to use the same words as the man.
"I never tell him anything, never the reality."
"Tell him this evening what you want."
"Do you think that will make a joyful occasion out of our
reunion?"
"Don't argue with him again. Just be direct about it. Be
firm. It's important that he..."
George stopped. He made a gesture to indicate I should
finish the sentence myself, and I did what he wanted. I had often
told myself the same thing and I felt no inhibitions about it. I
had also asked my old lovers not to withdraw, to finish inside
me, but only in the euphoria of the act. George, I felt, wanted
to hear it from my mouth, to hear it coldly pronounced in this
restaurant that was fortunately almost empty.
I discovered suddenly that he must be very perverse. This
revelation produced a clutch in my belly, and I felt an
undeniable pleasure. To conceal my turmoil, I said:
"I'll ask him to finish inside me, tell him to stay there
until he discharges."
George's hand, which had not left mine, squeezed my fingers
as I rose and left him.
* * *
I continually looked at George during our work in the
afternoon, and I believe I can say he did the same. Our rapport
seemed different after our lunch. We looked at each other
differently, the glances more meaningful, more penetrating. I
avoided bantering with anyone that afternoon; I had no desire for
it, and I rebuffed several attempts with a pretext of urgent work
to be done. In reality I wanted to think. What impression had I
made? How did George think of me now? Had I been too free or not
free enough? Was he encouraging me to give myself more totally to
my husband, or did he simply want to know if I enjoyed making
love?
I should think he now understood that. And what next? Would
he attempt a seduction out of curiosity?
About six o'clock my first answer arrived. He asked me if I
would like him to accompany me to the station where I took my
train to the suburbs. He had the discretion not to show his
satisfaction with the promptness of my agreement. Perhaps I
should have been less eager to accept, but he seemed honest, and
hadn't he told me he liked women who knew how to say yes?
* * *
He made me climb first into the taxi. I placed myself in the
center of the seat in order that he would not be too far from me.
He put his arm on the high back of the seat, and I cleverly
waited for the first jolt of the brakes to allow my head to rest
against his arm.
He turned toward me when he felt the contact. My head
inclined, I smiled at him. It was he who approached first, but I
did not wait and I moved toward his lips. As soon as our mouths
touched, I was electrified. As in the restaurant, I became wet
immediately. I opened my mouth without his urging, and he
embraced me and pressed against me before our tongues were in
contact.
Our kisses was rarely interrupted. Hardly enough to matter.
Mine were languorous and deep, his penetrating, and to my great
satisfaction as lecherous as what I'd been led to expect in the
restaurant.
When we were almost at our destination, he stopped the taxi,
and I followed him without protest into a tiny quiet cafe.
We were barely seated before our bodies and our heads were
together. Our kisses resumed, more violent and more suave. The
waiter then disturbed us, and we had to wait for him to serve
what we'd ordered.
George held my hands while we waited alone. When the waiter
was gone, I pulled my hands away to pass my arms around his neck.
I looked into my companion's eyes and smiled at him.
"Are you thinking you've never met such an easy woman?"
He put his hand on my thigh where it was uncovered by my
short skirt. "You know what I think about that. I don't know if
you're easy at all. In any case, I like women who aren't hampered
by prejudices."
"Mmm. To imagine, accept, and propose!"
"Exactly. You need to make that your motto."
I pressed against him and separated my legs by putting a
thigh on one of his knees. It was a bold gesture, but I had an
urge to abandon myself with him. I offered my mouth, opened it,
and stuck the point of my tongue like a fang against his lips.
He did not dally while caressing my thigh. His hand
immediately concentrated on my crotch, and I felt his fingers
seek an opening. I moved a bit to allow him to slip inside my
panties. He was there at once, his fingers exciting my clitoris.
I wetted myself, thrilled by the caress. I felt no shame in
revealing the drenched state of my sex. I groaned under his lips
as he masturbated me.
But he stopped before I finished, saying it was not the
proper place for it. I pleaded, but he insisted it would be
unwise.
"Not here and not now," he said.
"Then I'll finish it alone when I get home."
"Do you do that often?"
"What do you think!"
It was late. I had promised my husband I would be with him,
and I did not want to go back on my word. Anyway, now I had a
great hope that I'd found consolation, and I resolved to give my
marriage a serious new trial.
George did not attempt to detain me, but he asked me to meet
him the next morning in the small cafe we now occupied.
"I'll wait for you at nine o'clock."
I accepted with a nod, because there was no question that I
wanted to be alone with him.
Then I said: "Don't you want to be informal with me. Don't I
deserve it?"
"If you want, but we'll need to be careful in the office."
"I swear I'll be careful."
"Prudent, yes. And you can be wild when we're alone."
"I hope that will be often! I know it's not possible to hide
anything in an office."
"Hold on! You know that by experience?"
I replied by nailing his nose with a kiss, and I rose
immediately afterward.
"Remember my advice this evening," George reminded me.
I looked at him, surprised he was thinking of my evening
with my husband when he had just refused to make me come with his
fingers. I would rather he think of my husband perhaps finishing
what he'd started and be upset by the idea of it. This was a
contradiction to my conclusion that George was basically
lecherous. Nevertheless, I followed him on this terrain.
"That's not going to be so easy. Just a few moments ago you
showed me another aspect of my position as a woman. You left me
deprived."
"The deprivation will be good for you this evening."
"Your too kind," I said with sarcasm.
"It needs to be good this evening. For both of you! And
don't try to provoke me into saying something untrue. If you make
love, it should be for pleasure only!"
I looked at him one last time, feeling more lecherous than
ever, and my eyes no doubt showing it. "And you want me to tell
you tomorrow if he made me come?"
"Yes, of course."
I walked out happy...
------------------------------
End Extract
This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
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