Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 189 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Fragments (7)

  First her hairs, which downward flow. Paint thou soft, dark-brown, unbraided; If thy wax so much can show, Let them be with perfume sated. 'Twixt her cheek and ebony hair Paint like ivory her forehead; 'Twixt her eyes paint not too rare Of her brows the hair nor florid. J25 Lyric Songs of the Greeks Let thy picture just as she Show her eye-brows well united; Only let this hidden be, Near the eye-lids barely sighted. Paint her glance like fiery flame, Like Athena's brightly gleaming; Winsome be it all the same. Just like Cytherea*s seeming. Paint her cheeks and paint her nose, Roses with white milk commingling; Lips so each like Pitho's shows E'er itself with kisses tingling. O'er her chin and marble neck Let all Graces seem to hover. For the rest, her body deck And with purplish garments cover. Yet a little let appear, Of her beauteous form a token. 'Tis enough: I herself see here. Soon, O wax, thou wilt have spoken. TO THE YOUNGER BATHYLLUS (i6) My friend Bathyllus, I beseech, Paint just as I thee now shall teach. Give to his hair a glossy sheen. And let it be all black within, 126 Anacreontea But at its edges sunny white. His noble locks do not bind tight: Though gathering each disordered curl, To flow at random them unfurl. Below his forehead soft as dew Be eye-brows dark like serpents blue. His eyes with black shall brightly glow, And yet complacent calmness show: A mixture of Ares, battle-lord, And Cytherea thus afford. The former shall inspire with fear, With kindly hope the latter cheer. His downy cheek paint thou like rose. So that it like red apples glows; A blush as though of modesty — I see thou canst — put on for me. As to his lips, I scarcely know What mould thou shouldst on them bestow. Well, let them soft and tender be. On them may we Persuasion see. Thus showing all these charms, the wax Doth speak aloud, yet voice it lacks. An ivory throat paint 'neath his face. More than Adonis full of grace. His hands, his breast, let them suggest The hands of Hermes and his chest. His abdomen like Dionys, Like Polydeuces paint his thighs; And then the parts that lie above Depict so that they challenge love. But how thy art is niggardly! I fain his back would also see: 127 Lyric Songs of the Greeks 'Twere better far to show that too, And not, begrudging, hide from view. Why of his feet shall aught I say? Whatever thou wilt receive as pay. Apollo, whom thou seest, take down. And with Bathyllus win renown. If e'er in Samos thou appear, Paint Phoebus like Bathyllus here. A LOVE SONG (17-18) Give me to drink, to drink give me, Of Bromius, women, ceaselessly: Already now I am moaning, .Overcome with heat, and groaning. To deck my head bring flowery wreaths Of vine; my forehead bums and seethes.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  I turned my head and gave a meaningless sigh. At that instant my unusually fevered breath became mingled with hers. My lips were covered by something heavy and greasy. Our teeth crashed together noisily. I was afraid to open my eyes and look. Then she grasped my cheeks firmly between her two cold hands. After a moment Chieko pulled away and I partially raised myself. There we were glaring at each other in the gloom. It was common knowledge that Chieko's sisters were loose women. Now I realized clearly that she must have the same blood in her veins. But there was an inexplicable and singular feeling of affinity between the passion that was blazing in her and the fever of my illness. I sat up straight and said: "Once more!" In this way we continued our endless kisses until the houseboy returned. She kept saying: "Only kissing, only kissing. . . ." I did not know whether or not I had experienced any sexual desire during those kisses. However that may be, since what is called a first experience is a kind of sexual feeling in itself, it would probably be useless to draw a distinction in this case. It was no use to try to single out from the drunken emotions of that moment the usual sexual element of the kiss. The important thing was that I had become a "man who knows kisses." And all the time that we were embracing each other I had thought of nothing but Sonoko, exactly like a boy who is served some delicious sweet away from home and immediately wishes he could give some to his younger sister. From then on all my daydreams were focused on the idea of kissing Sonoko. This was my initial and also my most serious miscalculation. At any rate, as I continued thinking of Sonoko, this first experience gradually became ugly in my eyes. When Chieko called me on the telephone the next day I lied and told her I was returning immediately to the arsenal. I did not even keep our promised rendezvous. I blinded myself to the reality of the fact that I felt unnaturally cold toward her simply because I had derived no pleasure from those kisses, and assured myself instead that they seemed ugly only because I was in love with Sonoko. This was the first time I used my love for Sonoko as a justification for my true feelings. Sonoko and I exchanged photographs like any boy and girl in their first love affair. She wrote saying she had put mine in a locket and hung it over her breast.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Snow White was positively trembling with shock and delight. “Choose your prince,” she heard one of them whisper close to her ear. But she remained silent, for she could not bear the thought of losing so much as one of the magnificent princes that stood before her. The princes did not question her silence. Instead, they knowingly removed their clothes, which had been all but torn to shreds in their transformation. Next, they set out to remove Snow White’s nightdress, and it quickly disappeared as a flurry of fourteen agile hands set to action. Relieved of the impediment of her gown, the hands were now free to caress her flushed, trembling body thoroughly, seeking out every curve and dimple and peak, and finding all her hidden places. The hands explored her fully, lingering here and there, but leaving no single part of her untouched. Meanwhile their lips devoured hers in turn. But the hungry mouths grew too impatient to wait idly for a turn at Snow White’s lips, so they sought out other places to kiss. Feverishly Snow White moaned and writhed as the hands and lips of the seven princes consumed every part of her. She shivered as she felt the sharp teeth of one prince nip carefully at her breast, while another prince gently suckled at the other. One tongue slid down the length of her belly as another wriggled its way into her body at the juncture between her legs. Another set of lips took hers in a deep and lingering kiss. Snow White was so overcome with excitement and desire that it was a struggle to keep breathing, and for a moment she feared she might lose consciousness. She floundered near delirium as she anxiously waited for what would come next. Perceiving her quandary and the remedy for it, the princes gently positioned Snow White’s body so that she could receive her first prince, a beautiful man with golden hair and eyes of the deepest blue. He kissed her tenderly as he slowly came into her. Snow White cried out in irrepressible ecstasy, utterly beside herself with the pleasure she felt. You mustn’t think that the other princes remained idle in the meantime. One prince held up her right leg while another prince held up her left. A third prince kissed her lips while two more kissed and licked her breasts. They all watched the fair prince take Snow White, patiently waiting for their own turn, and she had to close her eyes for a moment just to catch her breath. Just as Snow White was approaching the height of her pleasure with the gentle blond prince, the men who held her legs opened them wider and higher so that the prince could thrust himself deeper within her. This maneuver quickly had its effect, and all eyes watched the pair as they submitted to the last rushes of pleasure.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  But suddenly Cinderella desired her husband to join her in this pleasure. In her mind she had conjured an image and she wanted to experience it with her other faculties. So she took the prince by the hand and led him to their bed. Without a word she removed his clothing, leisurely enjoying his hard muscular form as she did, and then finally pushing him gently down on the bed. His body was hard and straining as he willingly complied with her will. She positioned herself beside him in an arrangement that left him no doubt what she intended. She rolled to one side and bent one leg enough to open herself to him, even as she took his entire hardness into her mouth. He clutched her buttocks in his hands and pulled her into his face, as his tongue easily found her tender pleasure spot and resumed its stroking. Cinderella had never enjoyed having the prince in her mouth quite so much. It had been tiresome, in the past, working over him, trying to please without knowing if she should go faster or slower, or when it was enough. Now she simply relished the feel of him in her mouth, and didn’t worry about how she performed, because she suddenly realized that it was all so much easier for him to enjoy. So she simply let herself get pleasure from him now, caressing him with her tongue and lips as she marveled at his male hardness. It made her feel exceedingly erotic, to simply suckle and leave it to him to move in and out of her mouth as he pleased. It sent thrills through her when his thrusts forced her mouth to open wider, or when she felt him pressing into her throat. And all the while he never stopped working her with his tongue, so she quite thoroughly lost herself in the sensations of having her mouth and throat opened wide and filled by him, while he kept feeding upon her private parts. Further and further Cinderella sank into herself, even as she experienced the most intimate joining she had ever shared with her husband. She simply lost consciousness of anything unrelated to her own sensual pleasure. Lips and tongues were for licking and sucking. Legs were for opening wide, so eager eyes could look inside. Skin was for touching; every part, every cell seemed to be screaming with a mounting pressure to reach that tingling release. This was, at that moment, what she was living for. It rushed toward her and enveloped her. Then in the next instant it was gone again. And yet there was a milder pleasure that lingered.

• From Fragments (7)

  Gently like a frightened fawn Newly born, a suckling tender. Through the forest which doth wander, When its homed mother is gone. 100 Anacreon TO A SWALLOW (69) Charming swallow, let thy sound Of sweet melody rebound. HIDDEN REEFS (70) O'er reefs beneath the waters buried By the swift wind my ship is carried. MIDST LAUREL AND OLIVE (71) A waving back and forth there is seen Midst dark-leaved laurel and olive green. THE COTTABUS GAME (72) In the Sicilian cottabus he dashes Out from his wrist the wine-drops with loud splashes. - GOOD AT QUOITS (73) Targelius says adroit Art thou to pitch the quoit. lOI Lyric Songs of the Greeks AT THE THALYSIA (74) In ofiering first-fruits of the harvest-yields He mocks again those with the dark-blue shields. PERSUASION (75) Nor had Persuasion, silver-gleaming, Ever before on earth been beaming. FEARLESS (76) Though with no bolt the double door he closes, Yet he in peace and quietude reposes. UNRELENTING (77) Unrelentingly Didst thou act toward me. A CHALLENGE (78) The one who likes to fight May fight — it is his right. 102 Anacreon DECEITFUL (79) A base deceiver he Of us would gladly be. STUNNED (80) And now my mind Is stunned and blind. DESPONDENCY (81) Would that I die: no other way I see That ever might me from these troubles free. DISHONORABLE (82) Dishonorable thus It is nor like to us. DEFAMED AMONG NEIGHBORS (83) Thou wilt give me an evil name, And midst my neighbors me defame. 103 Lyric Songs of the Greeks THE MISCHIEVOUS AND THE PORTER (84) With the porter at the door The mischievous are at war. MODEST STRANGERS (85) Ye seem like modest strangers who desire No more than shelter and hospitable fire. RETURNING FROM THE WASH (86) Up from the river everything Gleaming and shining- white I bring. LIKE A SPARTAN MAID (87) She, like a Spartan maid, Aside her tunic laid. MULES (88) Mules first by Mysian men, 'tis said, Were from mare-covering asses bred. 104 Anacreon ELEGIES NOT MINE IS LOVE OF STRIFE OR BATTLE (89) Him do I love not, who, at the wine-bowl sitting and drinking. Speaks of naught but strife, ever of tearful war speaks. But much more the one who mingles with gifts of the Muses Aphrodite's glad gifts, ever inspiring good cheer, IN SPITE OF MYSELF (90) 'Tis in no way to my liking, yet doubt I not to await thee. NO MORE VISITS (91) To that Thracian maid now no more visits I pay. EPIGRAMS AGATHON (92) « Agathon, terribly mighty, who died for his city Ab- dera, 105 Lyric Songs of the Greeks All his townsmen bewailed, when they his body did bum; For no other young man like him by blood-thirsty Ares Ever yet has been slain ih the dread eddies of war. TIMOCRITUS (93) This is the tomb of the warrior Timocritus, mighty in battle: Ares the best never spared, but spared the cow- ards far more.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  But this transference of my love to persons in a different a ge group was also related to a more fundamental change in the nature of my love. Just as before, I kept this new feeling hidden in my heart, but to my love for the savage there had now been added a love for the graceful and gentle. Along with my natural growth there was developing in me something like a guardian's love, something akin to boy-love. Hirschfeld divides inverts into two categories : androphils, who are attracted only by adults; and ephebophils, who are fond of youths between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one. I was coming to understand the feelings of the ephebophils. In ancient Greece a young man was called an ephebe from the age of eighteen to twenty, while receiving military training; the term is derived from the same Greek word appearing in the name of Hebe, daughter of Zeus and Hera, cupbearer to the gods on Olympus, wife of the immortal Hercules, and symbol of the springtime of life. There was a beautiful boy, not yet seventeen, who had just entered higher school. He had a light complexion, gentle lips, and perfectly curved eyebrows. I had learned that his name was Yakumo. His features appealed to me greatly. Without his being aware of it, he began presenting me with a series of gifts, each consisting of a full week of pleasure. The section monitors of the senior class, of whom I was one, gave commands by weekly turns at morning assembly, morning calisthenics, and afternoon drill. (This latter, as required in higher school in those days, consisted of about thirty minutes of naval gymnastics, after which we would shoulder tools and go to dig air-raid trenches or to mow grass.) My turn for giving commands came around every fourth week. Even our school, for all its fastidious ways, appeared to be succumbing to the rude fashions of the times, and with the arrival of summer we were ordered to strip to the waist both for morning exercises and for naval gymnastics in the afternoon. The order of events was for the monitor first to give the commands for morning assembly from the platform. Then when assembly was over he would give the command "Jackets off!"

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  She realized suddenly that she had paused in her own attack while trying to defend herself from his. She struggled desperately to gather her senses and concentrate on what had to be done. She grasped him with her lips, licking and sucking him furiously in an attempt to match the pleasure he was showering on her. He was taken aback by her vigorous assault, and his tongue paused as he tried to regain control, but only for a moment. They both shuddered and moaned from the pleasure they suffered at the hands of the other. But neither would allow the other to be satisfied, for that would render them powerless. Instead, they repeatedly brought each other to the very precipice of release and then stopped short, hoping that the other one would make the plea that would end their torment. Cat was so aroused that Mouse could taste his pleasure, which had been seeping out in small salty drops, the excess from that which had been building up within him and was now bursting to get out. Cat, too, when pulling away from Mouse’s tiny, aching membrane, would pause to submerse his tongue in her wetness, reveling in the effect he was having on her. She was so close, he knew. If he could hold out a little longer, he could enjoy these pleasures with her forever. But he realized he had to do something quick if he was going to win. He could feel himself losing control. Stopping abruptly to change his course of action, he raised himself up over her and spread her legs wide. Her cry, when he thrust himself into her, delighted him nearly to the point of surrendering to her then and there and confessing his desire to have her. He knew it was extremely dangerous, to take her this way when he himself was so excited, but it was his only chance. He was still physically stronger than her, even if she was his sexual equal. With that in mind he bit his lip and took the upper hand in the contest, forcing her excitement to grow. He placed his hand on the spot he had previously held with his tongue and rubbed gently as he drove himself relentlessly into her. Mouse was so close. Her face was flushed, and she was panting for air. Every muscle in Cat’s body strained as he struggled to maintain control, and all the while he watched her every motion with rigor. “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. The moment had come. He saw the vulnerability in her face as she approached her weakest point, and he hated himself for doing it, even as he abruptly stopped the motions that she now wanted more than ever and pulled himself all the way out of her.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  It took her body a few minutes to recover from the shock of the day’s upheaval, but finally, she began to lose herself in the princess’s softness. Pretty soon the two were just as engrossed in each other as they had been that night by the stream. Unable to endure being only a spectator for another moment, the prince gently pushed his wife away from her lover and knelt between the goose girl’s legs. He stared into his wife’s face. “Touch her.” His wife reached down and touched the goose girl uncertainly with her fingers. The prince watched her fingers play along her opening, and he pressed against them gently, forcing her to be more intimate. He bent over to kiss his wife’s lips as he did so. With his lips still touching hers, he whispered, “Tell me what she feels like.” She shuddered as a myriad of overpowering emotions clamored within her. Seemingly of their own accord, her lips whispered the true response to his question. “Soft, wet,” and after a short pause, she added, “warm.” He pulled himself away from his wife so that he was once again facing the goose girl, but his eyes never left hers. The goose girl watched them both with interest, opening her legs wide and moaning lightly. He said to his wife, “Open her for me.” The maid felt a momentary pang of jealousy. But in the next instant she thought, What right have I to be jealous, when I have taken all of this and more from the princess already? Furthermore, how can I feel jealous for one that which I love? For she realized that she still loved the princess, and silently vowed that she would never betray her again. Without further delay, the maid readied the goose girl for her husband’s entry. She trembled under the influence of the many sensations mingling within her, and at length she was aware of her own throbbing need as she watched her husband slowly take the goose girl to mate. The goose girl moaned as she accepted from the prince the same pleasure he had given his wife so many times before. The prince watched his wife’s face as she watched him, and it enhanced his pleasure. The maid could not take her eyes from the image before her. When she saw the goose girl’s flushed face she understood perfectly the pleasure she was feeling. And at last she was aware of how the goose girl had suffered because of her. Without realizing her action, the maid reached out her hand and touched the goose girl’s face, running her finger across her lips. Her hand slowly moved down, tracing the curve of her jaw and lower still, to caress a soft breast.

• From Post Office (1971)

  “Crazy bitch!” I said. She laughed and then we kissed, our heads moving back and forth. She began to sob again. I pulled back and said, “DON’T!” We kissed again. Then I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, placed her on the bed, got my pants and shorts and shoes off fast, pulled her pants down over her shoes, got one of the shoes off, and then with one shoe off and one on, I gave her the best ride in months. Every geranium plant shook off the boards. When I finished, I nursed her back slowly, playing with her long hair, telling her things. She purred. Finally she got up and went to the bathroom. She didn’t come back. She went into the kitchen and began washing dishes and singing. For Christ’s sake, Steve McQueen couldn’t have done better. I had two Picassos on my hands. 16 After dinner or lunch or whatever it was—with my crazy 12-hour night I was no longer sure what was what—I said, “Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me crazy? Look, let’s give it up. Let’s just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little. Let’s go to the zoo. Let’s look at animals. Let’s drive down and look at the ocean. It’s only 45 minutes. Let’s play games in the arcades. Let’s go to the races, the Art Museum, the boxing matches. Let’s have friends. Let’s laugh. This kind of life is like everybody else’s kind of life: it’s killing us. “ “No, Hank, we’ve got to show them, we’ve got to show them ...” It was the little small-town Texas girl speaking. I gave it up. 17 Each night as I got ready to go on in, Joyce had my clothing laid out on the bed. Everything was the most expensive money could buy. I never wore the same pair of pants, the same shirt, the same shoes two nights in a row. There were dozens of different outfits. I put on whatever she laid out for me. Just like mama used to do. I haven’t come very far, I thought, and then I’d put the stuff on.

• From Fragments (7)

  His golden quiver he did show. And challenged me to battle. With breast-plate like Achilles I My shoulders then defended. My spear and ox-hide shield to try, With Eros I contended. He shot, I fled, and, in his heart Ferocious anger feeling. His arrows gone, he threw a dart. Himself in it concealing. He touched my heart, he laid me low No arms can now protect me. Without why should I missiles throw? Within strife doth affect me. 122 Anacreontea TO HIS LOVES (13) If thou the leaves of every tree Wouldst understand to count for me, If thou couldst find the billows all, Which on the Ocean rise and fall, rU grant thee then and then alone That all my loves by thee arc known. In Athens first do I adore Full twenty loves, then fifteen more. Next Corinth with whole chains of loves My heart e*cn more than Athens moves; For Corinth by Achaea is claimed. Which is for women's beauty famed. From Lesbos and Ionia, From Rhodos and from Caria Two thousand loves put down for me. What sayest thou ? Do I pallor see ? Still of the Syrians must thou learn, Canobians for whom I yearn. Who dwell in Egypt's sultry heat, And those from all-resourceful Crete, Where Eros orgies celebrates Throughout its populous city-states. Why shall I name those who me please Beyond the pillars of Hercules, The Bactrians and Hindoos too, Whose Orient charms my heart doth woo ? 123 Lyric Songs of the Greeks TO A DOVE (14) " Lovely dove, pray whither, whither Do thy wings thee bear, As thou bravest wind and weather, Speeding through the air? Why so fragrant are thy wings? Pray, what care thee hither brings? " ** To Bathyllus I am going. By Anacreon sent. To the boy whom all are wooing. King of all and friend. Venus sold me for the price Of a song of smallest size. " With Anacreon now I tarry Ever lovingly. Him I serve, his letters carry, As thou well mayest see. He declares not long he'll wait Till he me will liberate. " Yet rU serve him still — with shudder Freedom's thought me fills; For why should I sadly flutter Over fields and hills? Why should I alight on trees. Some coarse rustic food to seize? 124 Anacreontea " Now my bread I have been snatching From Anacreon's hands ; He the wine he has used for pledging Me to drink commands; Him, when to his lute he sings, Shade I with my dancing wings. " Then my feathered wings droop slowly. As to sleep I go On his very lyre. Now wholly Thou my tale dost know. Sir, depart; to thee I owe That I have chattered like a crow." TO A MAIDEN (15) Master of the Rhodian art. Best of painters, I implore thee, Paint the mistress of my heart As I say, as though before thee.

• From Post Office (1971)

  He took my blood pressure. “No, no, your blood pressure is all right.” Then he put the stethoscope to me and weighed me. “I can find nothing wrong.” Then he gave me a special blood test. He took blood from my arm three times at intervals, each time lapse longer than the last. “Do you care to wait in the other room?” “No, no. I’ll go out and walk around and come back in time.” “All right but come back in time.” I was on time for the second blood extraction. Then there was a longer wait for the third one, 20 or 25 minutes. I walked out on the street. Nothing much was happening. I went into a drugstore and read a magazine. I put it down, looked at the clock and went outside. I saw this woman sitting at the bus stop. She was one of those rare ones. She was showing plenty of leg. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I crossed the street and stood about 20 yards away. Then she got up. I had to follow her. That big ass beckoned me. I was hypnotized. She walked into a post office and I walked in behind her. She stood in a long line and I stood behind her. She got two postcards. I bought 12 airmail postcards and two dollars worth of stamps. When I came out she was getting on the bus. I saw the last of that delicious leg and ass get on the bus and the bus carried her away. The doctor was waiting. “What happened? You’re five minutes late!” “I don’t know. The clock must have been wrong.” “THIS THING MUST BE EXACT!” “Go ahead. Take the blood anyhow.” He stuck the needle into me … A couple of days later, the tests said there was nothing wrong with me. I didn’t know if it was the five minutes difference or what. But the dizzy spells got worse. I began to clock out after four hours work without filling out the proper forms. I‘d walk in around 11 p.m. and there would be Fay. Poor pregnant Fay. “What happened?” “I couldn’t take any more,” I‘d say, “too sensitive…” 11The boys on Dorsey station didn’t know my problems. I’d enter through the back way each night, hide my sweater in a tray and walk in to get my timecard: “Brothers and sisters!” I’d say. “Brother, Hank!” “Hello, Brother Hank!” We had a game going, the black-white game and they liked to play it. Boyer would walk up to me, touch me on the arm and say, “Man, if I had your paint job I’d be a millionaire!” “Sure you would, Boyer. That’s all it takes: a white skin.” Then round little Hadley would walk up to us. “There used to be this black cook on this ship. He was the only black man aboard. He cooked tapioca pudding two or three times a week and then jacked-off into it.

• From Post Office (1971)

  4 One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits are too small, and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can’t control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs ... But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress ... a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all. I looked up and there she was, down at the end of the bar. She was about drunk and the bartender wouldn’t serve her and she began to bitch and they called one of the track cops and the track cop had her by the arm, leading her off, and they were talking. I finished my drink and followed them. “Officer! Officer!” He stopped and looked at me. “Has my wife done something wrong?” I asked. “We believe that she is intoxicated, sir. I was going to escort her to the gate.” “The starting gate?” He laughed. “No, sir. The exit gate.” “I’ll take over here, officer.” “All right, sir. But see that she doesn’t drink anymore.” I didn’t answer. I took her by the arm and led her back in. “Thank god, you saved my life,” she said. Her flank bumped against me. “It’s all right. My name’s Hank.” “I’m Mary Lou,” she said. “Mary Lou,” I said, “I love you.” She laughed. “By the way, you don’t hide behind pillars at the opera house, do you?” “I don’t hide behind anything,” she said, sticking her breasts out. “Want another drink?” “Sure, but he won’t serve me.” “There’s more than one bar at this track, Mary Lou. Let’s take a run upstairs.

• From Fragments (7)

  And armor it doeth duty. For she whose beauty we admire Doth conquer iron and gleaming fire. TO A SWALLOW (25) Thou, dear swallow, as before, Coming every year, For the summer-time once more Build 'st thy dwelling here. When 'tis cold. As of old. On the Nile thou playest. And in Egypt stayest. Love his dwelling e'er doth build Right within my heart. And with young Loves it is filled. Some whose wings just start, Some eggs, some Out would come. E'er the nestlings clamor, Ope their mouths and stammer. Then the little Loves beget Others as they grow, ^32 Anacreontea And by these again are bred Others even so. Help I see None for me, OfiF these Loves to frighten, And my load to lighten. A LOVE SONG (26a) Thou sing'st of Thebe's glory, Of Phrygian war-cries he; But I shall tell the story Of my captivity. No foot or horse did harm me, I was not by navies caught. Far stranger was this army — By eyes I have been shot. LOVE'S BRAND (26b) Its branded hip e'er showeth Us where a horse is bred; The Parthian men one knoweth By tiaras on their head. Whene'er I see a lover, At once I understand — 'Tis easy to discover Love's spiritual subtle brand. 133 Lyric Songs of the Greeks A LOVE SONG (29) Violently did Eros smite me With his hyacinthine rod. To a run did he invite me; So o*er swollen streams I trod, And through glens and thickets ran, Till I to perspire began. To my throat my heart was aching, Almost, almost did I choke; But, his forehead at me shaking, And his pinions, Eros spoke: " Wonder not thou canst not run : Ne'er hast thou to love begun." A LOVE SONG (30) On tender myrtle branches I Desire my limbs to stretch. As on a clover lawn I lie, I wish to drink a pledge. May Eros pour my wine for me, While, o'er his shoulders wound, A tunic, fastened carefully, Be with papyrus bound. For life like chariot wheels rolls by; Not long will death delay. 136 Anacreontea Naught but a little dust we lie, When once our bones decay. Why anoint a stone? Why offerings give To those who long are dead? Anoint me rather while I live ; With roses crown my head. And, Eros, call the best of maids. Ere Death me downward bears Where e'en the dancers all are shades — I want to drown my cares. TO EROS (31) The midnight hour was passing. The Bear was about to set, And Bootes his course was tracing Behind him with noiseless tread. And all the mortals unnumbered Were asleep, with labor sore. Then Eros came as I slumbered, And knocked and knocked at my door. " Who is pounding my door? " I demanded, " My dreams dost thou make disappear " ;

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  There was much excitement as the travelers set out, and the princess and her maid passed the first hours of their journey merrily. But soon they grew weary of the pace that was kept by the others, preferring to travel in a much more leisurely manner. In truth, the princess did not look forward to being married, and more particularly to marrying a prince whom she had never even met. That is not to say that she entertained hopes of somehow avoiding the marriage, for she was obedient and loyal, with that intractable conformity to duty that is characteristic of those with royal blood flowing through their veins. Still, it was her intention to enjoy her last moments of freedom for as long as possible. Determined, therefore, not to be hurried into her inevitable destiny, she convinced her entourage to ride on ahead, allowing her and her maid to follow at their own pace. It was only a few days’ ride on the princess’s own royal lands, after all, and besides, no one in the procession was of the mind to deny the princess anything that she wished. That first day of their journey was especially warm and, having taken many stops to rest, the princess and her companion soon fell far behind the rest of the group. Just as it was reaching late afternoon, the two came upon a clear stream and, delighting in the prospect of having a bath after such a long and tedious ride, agreed it was a perfect place to set up camp for the night. Eagerly the ladies dismounted their horses, stripped off their dusty clothes and rushed headlong into the water. It felt wonderful to wash away the dust from the road. But the princess was not used to attending to herself and in no time her hair was tangled in knots all around her. Seeing the princess’s difficulty, her maid rushed to her side to lend assistance. The luxuriously cool water caressed their weary limbs, and as the maid tenderly washed the princess’s hair, the gentle rocking of the current brought their flesh repeatedly into contact. Before long, the subtle coercion of the waves had its effect, and the women were becoming increasingly enchanted by each other. Once the princess’s hair was washed and rinsed, she immediately set out to return the favor, so that the same process was repeated with the princess washing the hair of her maid. Meanwhile, both women became bolder, allowing their bodies to linger when the water brought them together, as if by accident, but really growing more and more aroused by the exquisite touch of the other’s soft, womanly flesh. Their clean hair sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

• From Post Office (1971)

  “You remember me, eh?” I asked. “Oh yes, I know you’ve had some real sick nights.” “Yeh,” I said. “Do you still have women up at your apartment?” she asked. “Yeh. Do you still have men up at yours?” “All right, Mr. Chinaski, now what’s your problem?” “I burned my hands.” “Come over here. How did you burn your hands?” “Does it matter? They’re burned.” She was dabbing my hands with something. One of her breasts brushed me. “How did it happen, Henry?” “Cigar. I was standing next to a truck of third-class. Ash must have gotten in there. Flames came up.” The breast was up against me again. “Hold your hands still, please!” Then she laid her whole flank against me as she spread some ointment on my hands. I was sitting on a stool. “What’s the matter, Henry? You seem nervous.” “Well … you know how it is, Martha.” “My name is not Martha. It’s Helen.” “Let’s get married, Helen.” “What?” “I mean, how soon will I be able to use my hands again?” “You can use them right now if you feel like it.” “What?” “I mean, on the work floor.” She wrapped on some gauze. “It does feel better,” I told her. “You mustn’t burn the mails.” “It was junk.” “All mail is important.” “All right, Helen.” She walked over to her desk and I followed her. She filled out the travel form. She looked very cute in her little white hat. I’d have to find a way to get back there. She saw me looking at her body. “All right, Mr. Chinaski, I think you better leave now. “ “Oh yes … Well, thanks for everything.” “It’s just part of the job.” “Sure.” A week later there were NO SMOKING IN THIS AREA signs all around. The clerks were not allowed to smoke unless they used ashtrays. Somebody had been contracted to manufacture all these ashtrays. They were nice. And said PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT. The clerks stole most of them. NO SMOKING. I had all by myself, Henry Chinaski, revolutionized the postal system. 4Then some men came around and ripped out every other water fountain. “Hey, look, what the hell are they doing?” I asked. Nobody seemed interested. I was in the third-class flat section. I walked over to another clerk. “Look!” I said. “They are taking away our water!” He glanced at the water fountain, then went back to sticking his third-class. I tried other clerks. They showed the same disinterest. I couldn’t understand it. I asked to have my union representative paged to my area. After a long delay, here he came—Parker Anderson. Parker used to sleep in an old used car and freshen up and shave and shit at gas stations that didn’t lock their restrooms. Parker had tried to be a hustler but had failed. And had come to the central post office, joined the union, and went to the union meetings where he became sarge-at-arms.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  So then, what kind of desire was it that made me want to meet her so? Might it not be only self-deception again, this passion that so obviously was not sexual desire? In the first place, can there be such a thing as love that has no basis whatsoever in sexual desire? Isn't that a clear and obvious absurdity? But then another thought occurred to me: if we grant that human passion has the power to rise above all absurdity, how can it be argued that it does not have the power to rise above the absurdities of passion itself? Since that decisive night I had cleverly managed to avoid women. Since that night I had not touched the lips of a single woman—much less the ephebic lips that so genuinely called to my desire—not even if I found myself in a situation in which it was rude not to do so. . . . So then, the advent of summer threatened my solitude even more than the spring had done. And full summer lashed the galloping horses of my sexual desire. It consumed and tortured my flesh. To endure it I had to resort to my bad habit sometimes as much as five times in one day. My ignorance had been enlightened by reading the theories of Hirschfeld, who explains inversion as a perfectly simple biological phenomenon. I realized now that even that decisive night had been a natural consequence and that there was no cause for shame. My imaginative lust for the ephebe, although never once turning to pederasty, had taken a well-defined form, which the investigators have shown to be almost equally prevalent. It is said that the same impulse as this I was feeling is not uncommon among Germans. The diary of Count von Platen provides a most representative example. Winckelmann also was the same. And, turning to Renaissance Italy, it is clear that Michelangelo was the possessor of impulses in the same category as mine.But this does not mean that my emotional life was set to rights by my intellectual understanding of these scientific theories. It was difficult for inversion to become an actuality in my case simply because in me the impulse went no further than sexuality, went no further than being a dark impulse crying out in vain, struggling helplessly, blindly. Even the excitement aroused in me by an attractive ephebe stopped short at mere sexual desire. To give a superficial explanation, my soul still belonged to Sonoko. Although it does not mean that I accept the concept outright, I can conveniently use the medieval diagram of the struggle between soul and body to make my meaning clear: in me there was a cleavage, pure and simple, between spirit and flesh. To me Sonoko appeared the incarnation of my love of normality itself, my love of things of the spirit, my love of everlasting things. But such a simple explanation does not dispose of the problem.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But, things going thus and somewhat farther than was expedient, the young lady on the one hand and Gerbino on the other burning with desire, it befell that the King of Tunis gave her in marriage to the King of Granada, whereat she was beyond measure chagrined, bethinking herself that not only should she be separated from her lover by long distance, but was like to be altogether parted from him; and had she seen a means thereto, she would gladly, so this might not betide, have fled from her father and betaken herself to Gerbino. Gerbino, in like manner, hearing of this marriage, was beyond measure sorrowful therefor and often bethought himself to take her by force, if it should chance that she went to her husband by sea. The King of Tunis, getting some inkling of Gerbino's love and purpose and fearing his valour and prowess, sent to King Guglielmo, whenas the time came for despatching her to Granada, advising him of that which he was minded to do and that, having assurance from him that he should not be hindered therein by Gerbino or others, he purposed to do it. The King of Sicily, who was an old man and had heard nothing of Gerbino's passion and consequently suspected not that it was for this that such an assurance was demanded, freely granted it and in token thereof, sent the King of Tunis a glove of his. The latter, having gotten the desired assurance, caused equip a very great and goodly ship in the port of Carthage and furnish it with what was needful for those who were to sail therein and having fitted and adorned it for the sending of his daughter into Granada, awaited nought but weather. The young lady, who saw and knew all this, despatched one of her servants secretly to Palermo, bidding him salute the gallant Gerbino on her part and tell him that she was to sail in a few days for Granada, wherefore it would now appear if he were as valiant a man as was said and if he loved her as much as he had sundry times declared to her. Her messenger did his errand excellent well and returned to Tunis, whilst Gerbino, hearing this and knowing that his grandfather had given the King of Tunis assurance, knew not what to do. However, urged by love and that he might not appear a craven, he betook himself to Messina, where he hastily armed two light galleys and manning them with men of approved valour, set sail with them for the coast of Sardinia, looking for the lady's ship to pass there. Nor was he far out in his reckoning, for he had been there but a few days when the ship hove in sight with a light wind not far from the place where he lay expecting it.

• From Post Office (1971)

  God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits are too small, and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can’t control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs … But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress … a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all. I looked up and there she was, down at the end of the bar. She was about drunk and the bartender wouldn’t serve her and she began to bitch and they called one of the track cops and the track cop had her by the arm, leading her off, and they were talking. I finished my drink and followed them. “Officer! Officer!” He stopped and looked at me. “Has my wife done something wrong?” I asked. “We believe that she is intoxicated, sir. I was going to escort her to the gate.” “The starting gate?” He laughed. “No, sir. The exit gate.” “I’ll take over here, officer.” “All right, sir. But see that she doesn’t drink anymore.” I didn’t answer. I took her by the arm and led her back in. “Thank god, you saved my life,” she said. Her flank bumped against me. “It’s all right. My name’s Hank.” “I’m Mary Lou,” she said. “Mary Lou,” I said, “I love you.” She laughed. “By the way, you don’t hide behind pillars at the opera house, do you?” “I don’t hide behind anything,” she said, sticking her breasts out. “Want another drink?” “Sure, but he won’t serve me.” “There’s more than one bar at this track, Mary Lou. Let’s take a run upstairs. And keep quiet. Stand back and I will bring your drink to you. What’re you drinking?” “Anything,” she said. “Scotch and water do?” “Sure.” We drank the rest of the card. She brought me luck. I hit two of the last three. “Did you bring a car?” I asked her. “I came with some damn fool,” she said. “Forget him.” “If you can, I can,” I told her. We wrapped up in the car and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth like a tiny lost snake. We unwrapped and I drove down the coast. It was a lucky night. I got a table overlooking the ocean and we ordered drinks and waited for the steaks. Everybody in the place looked at her. I leaned forward and lit her cigarette, thinking, this one’s going to be a good one. Everybody in the place knew what I was thinking and Mary Lou knew what I was thinking, and I smiled at her over the flame. “The ocean,” I said, “look at it out there, battering, crawling up and down.

• From Post Office (1971)

  “Yes, she is nice, really.” Vi put the photo back and went into the kitchen. The eternal photo! Women with their photos. It was the same over and over and over again. Vi stood in the kitchen doorway. “Don’t drink too much now! You know what we have to do!” “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have something for you. Meanwhile, bring me a drink! I’ve had a hard day. Half scotch, half water.” “Get your own drink, bigshot.” I turned my chair around, flicked on the t.v. “You want another good day at the track, woman, you’d better bring Mr. Bigshot a drink. And I mean now!” Vi had finally bet my horse in the last race. It was a 5/1 shot who hadn’t shown a decent race in two years. I bet it merely because it was 5/1 when it should have been 20. The horse had won by six lengths, eased up. They had that baby fixed from asshole to nostril. I looked up and here was a hand with a drink reaching over my shoulder. “Thanks, baby.” “Yes, master,” she laughed. 13 In bed I had something in front of me but I couldn’t do anything with it. I whaled and I whaled and I whaled. Vi was very patient. I kept striving and banging but I’d had too much to drink. “Sorry, baby,” I said. Then I rolled off. And went to sleep. Then something awakened me. It was Vi. She had stoked me up and was riding topside. “Go, baby, go!” I told her. I arched my back now and then. She looked down at me with little greedy eyes. I was being raped by a high yellow enchantress! For a moment, it excited me. Then I told her. “Shit. Get down, baby. It’s been a long hard day. There will be a better time.” She climbed off. The thing went down like an express elevator.

• From Fragments (7)

  I care my beard to wet; Fresh wreaths of roses I prefer To place upon my head. Today means everything to me, Tomorrow hidden lies. As long as it fair weather be, Do drink and throw the dice. And also to Lyaeus pour Libations; for, I fear, Disease will say, "Pray, drink no more," Whene'er it will appear. TO HIMSELF WHEN INTOXICATED (8) By the gods, by the gods I conjure, Let me drink, let me drink evermore. For madly to rave do I crave, As Alcmaeon before did rave. And barefoot Orestes too, Who in frenzy their own mothers slew. But no one would I want to kill, But my cup e'er with red wine fill. Thus madly to rave do I crave, As Heracles too did rave. When his terrible quiver he shook, And his bow from Iphitus took. So formerly Ajax raved. Who the corpse of Achilles had saved, 119 Lyric Songs of the Greeks Who the sword of Hector did wield, And brandished his terrible shield. But I for a cup only care, And a wreath to put on my hair. No bow and no sword will I have: Thus madly to rave do I crave. TO A SWALLOW (9) Come, what shall I do to thee, Noisy, chattering swallow ? Wouldst thou after thee have me With my scissors follow? Shall I clip thy airy wings. So thou ceasest flying, Or thy tongue which ever sings, With famed Tereus vying? Why from me, not yet awake, With thy noisy chatter. Didst thou my Bathyllus take From my dreams, O prater? TO A WAXEN EROS (lo) I met a youth who on his hand A waxen Eros had. And right beside him I did stand. And then to him I said: J 20 Anacreontea " This figure which was made by thee For how much wilt thou sell to me? " And, answering, he turned about, With Doric accents broad: " Pay what thou wilt, thou wilt find him out ■ My skill I do not laud. But I no longer with me now The villain Eros will allow." " Give quickly, quickly give to me ; A drachma will I pay. Eros, my fair companion be; Inflame me e'en today. But if thou canst not me inspire, I'll melt thee in the gleaming fire." TO ATTIS (II) With fair Cybebe once, they say, Attis became enamoured: Half woman, raving, far away, He on the mountains clamored. Some, shouting loud on Clarus' shore, In frenzied madness totter. Where laurelled Phoebus men adore, They drink the babbling water. But rather I with cheering wine And ointment would be sated, lai Lyric SotiffS of the Greeks Through thee, dear maid, companion mine, I'll madly be elated. TO EROS (12) I wish to love, to love desire — So Eros would persuade me; But not so soon did I take fire; My stubborn mind delayed me. And then at once he raised his bow.