Paul put his head on the pillow next to hers. His face had a look of mortification mixed with pain. After months of gentle cultivation, he was shocked to discover this aggressive madwoman. Was she always repressing this abandoned sexuality? Or had his patient courting driven her to frenzied carnality? Maybe there was another man. His face contorted with jealousy.
They lay next to each other, not touching, in heavy silence. He thought she was sleeping, but when he looked over at her, he found her lying flat on her back, her eyes opened wide to the ceiling. She had an expression of entranced agony.
" Gloria," he said. " Gloria, what is it?"
Her face showed she had not heard him. He leaned over and took her shoulders, feeling her shudder.
" Gloria, are you sick?"
She turned on him, repeating his question mockingly. " Am I sick?"
" I can' t tell," he said hopelessly, " if you love or hate me."
" Neither," she sighed. " You don' t even exist for me, really." She turned heavy, feverish eyes on him.
" I do know I would never want to make love again like we just did. I guess I' m rather old- fashioned, but I like to lead the woman. I don' t like to feel drawn up into her emotion."
" I guess you are old- fashioned," she agreed with distant disinterest.
" I think," he countered, " that you' ll find most men are like me."
She laughed hollowly. " Then maybe I will take your suggestion of yesterday. Maybe I will try women."
His face grew grim with the insult. A woman had never rejected him with such scrupulous and utter detachment.
" What you want is some kind of animal fury. Not love."
" No, I just want you to kill the bug in me."
He got up on his elbows and looked down at her breasts. The sweater and brassiere still pulled below her armpits. Her breasts were forced into taunt points by the pressure above, the nipples erect and pebble- hard. He felt the blood rushing to his penis, pressing it authoritatively through the slit in his drawers. He was horrified that his body desired this crude woman. He pressed his penis up against his leg, zipping his pants with nervous speed. Gloria watched with a smile on her face.
" Don' t worry, Paul," she giggled contemptuously. " You won' t get in me again. You don' t even get near my bug. You don' t even flutter its wings."
" What are you talking about?" he said, embarrassed that she had seen his fear. " You talk like there' s a mosquito eating at your…"
" Cunt? Pussy? Snatch?" she laughed again.
" Gloria!"
" That' s all it is," she screamed. " Stop reading your fancy psychology books. Stop turning women into goddamn monuments or the Virgin Mary. There' s only one Virgin Mary, and she had a mighty rough time. I don' t want God in my cunt. I just want a man. Are there any? Do you know any?" The white eyes floated before her and laughed into her blood- clotted face.
" I think," said Paul, " that you should see an analyst."
" Great, " she answered. " Do you know of one with white eyes?"
" What are you talking about?"
" I want an analyst with white eyes. I want him to fuck me back to sanity."
He leaned to look closely at her and his chest brushed the protruding breasts. Again his penis urgently pressed against his pants. Then his tongue was searching her closed, cool lips.
" Let me, " he cried. " What difference can it make to you?"
Gloria pulled her head back and said, " Try, just try to be a man for me."
" Yes, yes," he said, not hearing the accusation in her voice. " Let me try."
He pulled the sweater over her head. His fumbling fingers caught the snap on her brassiere and pulled the restraining cloth away from her mounds. He ran his hands eagerly over her soft, warm tits, pinching the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He didn' t dare look at her face. With a grunt, he pressed his mouth against the stiff pink knobs at the tip of her tits. He sucked at the pinpoint hole in her nipples, trying to drain milk from the breasts that had never suckled.
" You darling; you darling," he murmured against her softness, each sound and breath giving the warm breasts new sensations.
Then he levered himself up and stuck his cock eagerly between the valley of her tits. The channel was dry and he crushed the mounds of flesh tight against his shaft, feeling the pulsation, the separate heartbeat. His penis expanded, fatter and stiffer, pressed against her woman' s body. And still she didn' t move.
Blind with the heavy, throbbing need of his prick, he reached his hand under her skirt, pulling at the garters and fragile stockings. He lifted her body half into the air, and clumsily hauled the panties and stockings off in one long silky piece. He slid her skirt off last. Gloria lay flat on the bed, completely, ravishingly naked. He got on his knees beside her and ran his fingers up her delicate ankles, her thighs, her hips, her fragile waist. His tongue followed his fingers, tasting her cunt, her breasts, her belly, the fleshy inside of her thighs. He crushed himself against her smooth stomach to relieve the tormented steel rod growing out of him. He rubbed helplessly against her cool skin. Up and down, up and down, until he heard her even breath grow rapid and gasping. Only then did he look into her eyes, seeing them glitter at him from a terrible depth. Her mouth was closed, and she looked nearly unconscious with her beautiful head crushed into the pillow.
" I love you. I love you. I love you," he groaned, tenderness mixing ecstatically with his fierce love- hungry prick. Her eyes looked back at him with pure hate, turning his stomach cold. With rage and frustration, he pulled her passive legs apart, and rushed his blood- heavy prick into her pink and sensitive flesh.
Her pussy was almost dry, and its unconscious resistance to his penis made him grow harder and more enraged. He tore into her, forgetting the woman or thing beneath him. He knew only that he was dying in his tortured cock, and that the hot elastic channel of inner flesh was giving him back his life. He ground up and down, in and out of this hot path, hypnotized by the rhythm of his desire.
He clutched at her shoulder and whispered into her ear to the cascading of her body, " I love you. I am helpless in you. Love me."
Then he felt the passion imprisoned in his prick rush forward for freedom. From his muscled thighs, his knotted stomach, his prick grew rigid and leaden, and when it had to break from its own weight, it shot sperm deep inside her in convulsive spurts.
He fell exhausted against the pillow, his face mixing with her perfumed black hair.
" Darling. My darling," he gasped, catching his breath, his body buzzing into normalcy. But when he looked down at her face, he saw her eyes were cold.
" Leave now," she whispered, her voice dead.
" Gloria, my darling," he almost wept.
" Leave now, or I will kill you," she repeated.
Her white face wanted him dead.
He got up from the bed, zipping his trousers.
He bent to speak to her… to plead for communication, for time. And he heard her say, in a trancelike voice, " Leave quickly, Paul, or I promise I' ll kill you."