The Pleasure of M (27 page)

“And
 you’d
 rather
 I
 not
 be
 a
 part
 of
 that…”
 

“Of
 course!
 I
 want
 to
 have
 sex
 with
 you,
 Catherine,
 I
 want
 to
 please
 you
 above
 all.
 I
 
don’t
 want
 to
 dictate
 what
 you
 do.
 I
 don’t
 even
 really
 want
 to
 imagine
 what
 you
 do.
 
And
 yes,
 maybe
 I
 want
 to
 protect
 you
 from
 being
 part
 of
 an
 expedient
 way
 to
 reach
 
an
 orgasm.
 When
 I
 think
 of
 you,
 I
 think
 of
 foreplay,
 delayed
 gratification,
 holding
 on
 
as
 long
 as
 I
 can.
 I
 don’t
 think
 of
 a
 quickie
 because
 my
 wife
 is
 getting
 impatient.”
 

“So
 do
 you
 resent
 that
 I
 fantasize
 about
 you
 during
 sex
 with
 my
 husband?”
 

“No,
 of
 course
 not”
 Michel
 answered
 laughing.
 “Things
 are
 so
 different
 in
 your
 case.
 
It
  seems
  that
  you
  are
  forgetting
  some
  of
  the
  big
  differences
  between
  a
  man
  and
  a
 
woman.”
 

“Which
 difference
 is
 this?
 We
 are
 both
 fantasizing
 to
 get
 some
 pleasure,
 aren’t
 we,
 I
 
mean
 in
 this
 case?”
 

“Well,
 yes
 and
 no:
 it
 is
 not
 the
 same
 pleasure
 we
 are
 seeking.
 Your
 fantasy
 is
 meant
 
to
 palliate
 your
 husband’s,
 shall
 we
 say,
 weaknesses?
 Mine
 is
 meant
 to
 bring
 about
 
orgasm,
  which
  is
  something
  that
  you
  yourself
  have
  said
  was
  too
  elusive
  to
  be
 
provoked
 in
 such
 a
 way.”
 

“Are
 you
 trying
 to
 argue
 that
 your
 fantasy
 is
 baser
 than
 mine
 and
 that
 this
 is
 why
 I
 
am
 not
 a
 prominent
 character
 in
 them?”
 

“Well,
 I…
 hmm.
 Sure.
 Well,
 aren’t
 they?”
 
“No!
 Why
 would
 they
 be?”
 

“Because
  as
  you
  said
  for
  men
  it
  is
  often
  about
  sex
  pure
  and
  simple.
  Not
  so
  for
 
women,
  or
  at
  least
  not
  so
  for
  you.
  I
  mean
  my
  fantasies
  don’t
  involved
  getting
 
whisked
 away
 into
 a
 harem,
 nor
 in
 fact
 whisking
 anyone
 into
 my
 harem
 either.”
 
“So
  what
  do
  they
  involve?”
  asked
  Catherine
  as
  she
  wondered
  if
  he
  realized
  how
 
often
 she
 did
 in
 fact
 visualize
 herself
 in
 a
 harem.
 

“Well,
 look,
 it’s
 not
 like
 I’m
 proud
 of
 it
 or
 anything,
 but
 you
 have
 to
 understand,
 once
 
again,
 this
 is
 usually
 a
 means
 to
 reach
 orgasm,
 not
 to
 increase
 the
 pleasure
 of
 the
 act.
 
I
 mean
 let
 us
 be
 quite
 clear:
 when
 I
 am
 giving
 myself
 pleasure,
 it
 is
 you
 I
 fantasize
 
about.”
 

“Really?”
 
“Oh
 yes.
 Since
 we’ve
 met.”
 
And
 with
 that
 she
 understood
 what
 he
 meant
 by
 ‘not
 graceful’.
 

“So
  what
  you
  mean
  to
  say
  is
  that
  you
  fantasize
  about
  having
  pig-‐sex
  while
  you’re
 
having
 sex
 with
 your
 wife,
 but
 about
 me
 when
 you
 masturbate?”
 

 

She
 could
 hear
 him
 blush
 as
 he
 responded.
 

 

“Well,
  if
  pig-‐sex
  means
  what
  I
  think
  it
  is
  supposed
  to
  mean,
  then…
  yes.
  Have
  you
 
ever
 watched
 a
 porno
 movie
 with
 your
 husband?”
 

The
  question
  surprised
  her
  but
  she
  was
  frank:
  “Yes,
  we’ve
  done
  that.
  Sometimes
 
when
 we
 travel
 we
 find
 that
 the
 television
 in
 the
 room
 has
 interesting
 programming
 
choices.”
 

“You
 mean
 you’ve
 done
 it
 more
 than
 once?”
 It
 was
 his
 turn
 to
 be
 surprised.
 

“Yes,”
 she
 admitted,
 “though
 I
 don’t
 really
 care
 for
 it
 much.
 Well,
 I
 shouldn’t
 say
 that,
 
exactly,
 it’s
 just
 a
 bit
 of
 a
 double-‐edged
 sword.
 For
 one,
 I’m
 never
 the
 one
 to
 propose
 
it.“
 

“So
 which
 edge
 of
 the
 sword
 is
 the
 good
 one?
 And
 why
 did
 you
 agree
 to
 it
 the
 first
 
time?”
 

“The
 first
 time
 I
 said
 yes
 because
 I’d
 never
 seen
 a
 porno
 before.
 I
 guess
 the
 voyeur
 in
 
me
 was
 intrigued.
 I
 didn’t
 really
 know
 what
 to
 expect
 and
 the
 idea
 of
 watching
 other
 
people
 having
 sex
 did
 excite
 me
 somewhat.
 Maybe
 I
 thought
 it
 would
 lengthen
 the
 
foreplay,
 which
 it
 did.”
 

“And
 the
 voyeur
 in
 you…?”
 

“Was
 intrigued
 and
 annoyed
 at
 the
 same
 time,
 maybe.
 It’s
 probably
 very
 cliché,
 but
 I
 
had
 no
 idea
 that
 you
 could
 do
 some
 of
 the
 things
 that
 they
 do.
 At
 the
 same
 time,
 I
 
couldn’t
  see
  myself
  doing
  most
  of
  this
  and
  it
  all
  seems
  so
  contrived
  that
  it
  left
  me
 
wondering.”
 

“Wondering
 what?”
 he
 asked.
 
“Well
 what
 do
 men
 get
 out
 of
 this?”
 

“Ooh!
 Well
 that
 would
 depend
 on
 the
 man,
 to
 begin
 with.
 I
 can’t
 pretend
 that
 I
 know
 
all
  the
  answers
  to
  that
  one,
  but
  I
  do
  possess
  some
  of
  them.
  First
  and
  foremost,
  it
 
provides
  some
  of
  us
  with
  the
  opportunity
  to
  see
  beautiful
  women
  showing
  their
 
beauty
  in
  accessible
  ways
  without
  any
  interaction.
  It
  is
  the
  satisfaction
  of
  a
  very
 
primal
  pleasure
  without
  interference
  of
  it
  into
  our
  lives.
  There
  is
  a
  universality
  to
 
this
  that
  is
  striking.
  Believe
  it
  or
  not,
  many
  men
  will
  satisfy
  themselves
  entirely
  of
 
such
 vicarious
 forms
 of
 entertainment
 without
 feeling
 the
 need
 for
 anything
 more.
 
Consider
 that
 in
 Japan,
 the
 basic
 cultural
 tenet
 is
 that
 as
 long
 as
 a
 man
 is
 paying
 for
 
what
 he
 is
 seeing
 and
 hearing
 and
 tasting
 and
 feeling
 (no
 touching
 allowed)
 then
 it
 
is
 not
 a
 betrayal
 of
 the
 marital
 vows.”
 

“You
  mean
  its
  OK
  as
  long
  as
  it’s
  prostitution?”
  said
  Catherine
  with
  slightly
  feigned
 
indignation.
 

“We
 are
 not
 at
 all
 talking
 about
 prostitution,
 only
 about
 adult
 entertainment.
 About
 
fantasy,
 ultimately
 and
 about
 how
 men
 need
 a
 tangible
 connection
 to
 their
 fantasy
 
where
 women
 seem
 to
 seek
 an
 intangible
 dimension
 to
 it.”
 

“Now
 you’re
 losing
 me.”
 

“Well,
  where
  I
  end
  up
  with
  all
  this
  is
  that
  what
  the
  man
  seeks
  is
  a
  physical
 
manifestation
 in
 his
 fantasy:
 the
 act,
 the
 contact,
 the
 basic
 sex
 itself
 is
 what
 we
 seek
 
in
 the
 fantasy.
 For
 you
 it
 is
 the
 element
 of
 narrative
 that
 is
 paramount
 in
 the
 fantasy,
 
the
 dreamscape
 of
 the
 romantic
 tryst
 on
 board
 the
 pirate
 ship,
 the
 harem,
 the
 slopes
 
of
  some
  Austrian
  ski
  resort.
  But
  isn’t
  the
  backdrop
  always
  something
  that
  is
  by
 
construction
 not
 attainable?”
 

“You
 mean
 I’ll
 never
 get
 whisked
 away
 to
 a
 harem?”
 
“Exactly!”
 

“I
  suppose
  there
  might
  be
  an
  element
  of
  truth
  to
  that.
  The
  fantasy
  does
  seem
  to
 
always
 be
 a
 bit
 outlandish.
 But
 that
 makes
 it
 safe.”
 

“Safe
 because
 it
 cant’
 happen?”
 
“Yes.”
 She
 answered
 after
 a
 brief
 pause.
 
“So
 your
 rationalization
 is
 that
 it’s
 OK
 as
 long
 as
 it
 can’t
 happen.”
 
“Yes.”
 She
 said
 again,
 though
 this
 time
 the
 pause
 was
 longer.
 
“Like
 us?”
 he
 asked.
 
When
 she
 said
 nothing
 he
 continued.
 

“You
  see,
  this
  affair
  embodies
  both
  aspects:
  it
  is
  palpably
  vivid
  and
  yet
  we
  are
 
figments
 of
 each
 other’s
 desires.
 That’s
 why
 it
 is
 so
 perfect.”
 

“Nothing
 is
 ever
 perfect,
 Michel.”
 
“Of
 course
 not,
 Catherine,
 but
 that
 is
 not
 a
 reason
 to
 lose
 our
 sense
 of
 humor.”
 

He
  followed
  that
  up
  with
  a
  witty
  remark
  and
  moved
  back
  to
  discussing
  adult
 
entertainment
 and
 the
 role
 it
 played
 in
 their
 sexual
 fantasies.
 

 
 
Intermezzo
 

Their
 affair
 could
 have
 ended
 here,
 just
 as
 it
 could
 have
 a
 half
 a
 dozen
 times
 before,
 
and
  again
  half
  a
  dozen
  times
  after,
  but
  did
  not.
  It
  was
  ended
  several
  moths
  later,
 
abruptly,
 by
 one
 of
 them
 of
 course,
 as
 all
 affairs
 must.
 Tales
 are
 born
 when
 people
 
follow
 a
 different
 path
 than
 is
 usual
 for
 them
 or
 for
 others.
 Tales
 are
 told
 for
 a
 rupee
 
or
 a
 kopek
 but
 lies
 are
 spun
 in
 the
 ear
 of
 the
 payer
 when
 tales
 are
 retold,
 the
 first
 of
 
which
 is
 that
 the
 tale
 is
 true,
 for
 at
 the
 very
 least
 it
 changes
 every
 time
 it
 is
 heard
 
anew.
 The
 second
 lie
 is
 that
 the
 listener
 is
 the
 main
 character,
 for
 in
 truth
 no
 one
 is
 
whisked
  into
  harems,
  pirates
  do
  not
  fall
  in
  love
  and
  there
  is
  no
  perfect
  lover.
  But
 
these
  are
  little
  lies,
  lies
  told
  to
  make
  the
  magic
  seem
  real,
  if
  only
  for
  a
  little
  while.
 
One
 of
 them
 would
 eventually
 end
 the
 affair,
 on
 his
 or
 her
 terms,
 and
 regardless
 of
 
whom
  it
  would
  be,
  some
  things
  were
  inevitable.
  And
  so
  there
  was
  pain,
  of
  course,
 
but
 a
 very
 small
 price
 to
 pay
 for
 what
 they
 had
 had
 together,
 nothing
 more
 than
 the
 
pain
  one
  might
  feel
  at
  turning
  the
  last
  page
  of
  a
  book
  that
  has
  touched
  one’s
  soul,
 
which
 one
 might
 think
 would
 not
 be
 enough
 to
 douse
 any
 desire
 to
 ever
 read
 again.
 
There
 was
 self-‐questioning
 on
 many
 topics
 of
 the
 future
 and
 the
 past.
 Had
 the
 affair
 
gone
 on
 would
 they
 eventually
 have
 met
 and
 had
 passionate
 sex?
 That
 surely
 would
 
have
  been
  the
  paroxysm
  from
  whose
  descent
  would
  have
  been
  sown
  a
  different
 
ending.
  In
  time
  all
  evidence
  would
  eventually
  be
  effaced
  and
  no-‐one
  would
  ever
 
know
 what
 had
 transpired,
 and
 that
 was
 just
 as
 should
 be,
 just
 as
 had
 silently
 never
 
been
  promised…
  But
  before
  proceeding
  to
  what
  some
  might
  choose
  to
  see
  as
  an
 
homage
 a
 metaphor
 is
 in
 order,
 in
 lieu
 of
 explanation.
 Consider,
 dear
 reader,
 that
 a
 
violin
  sonata
  when
  played
  to
  an
  audience
  of
  one
  will
  have
  three
  endings
  because
 
neither
  the
  pianist
  nor
  the
  violinist
  can
  hear
  what
  the
  listener
  hears,
  just
  as
  the
 
listener
  cannot
  feel
  the
  instruments
  vibrating
  against
  her
  skin,
  under
  his
  fingers.
 
And
 since
 in
 life
 there
 is
 no
 score,
 how
 could
 two
 lives
 be
 expected
 to
 tell
 the
 same
 
story?