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 253 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Vox (1992)

  55 reation? No. I've never been to Rome. I spend my va cation money in more important ways." "Like this call." "That's right. Now tell me, though, really, when your mother pointed out that statue, was it faintly arousing?" "I don't think it really was," she said. "It was just interesting, an interesting sexual fact, like something in Ripley's. I'm not, by the way, to get back to your story for a second, I'm not wearing a black undershirt under my shirt." "What are you wearing under your shirt?" "A bra." "What kind of bra?" "A nothing bra. A normal, white bra bra." "Oooo!" "It's shrunk slightly in the wash but it was my last clean one." "It's always impressive to me that bras have to be washed like other clothes. Does it clip on the front or on the back?" "The back." "Shouldn't it come off?" "I don't think so," she said. "Oh, I can hear in your voice the sound of you frown ing and pulling in your chin to look down at them! Oh boy." "Hah hah!" "The idea of women looking down at their own breasts 56 drives me nutso. They do it while they're walking. Some walk with their arms sort of hovering in front of their breasts, or awkwardly crossed in front of them, or they pretend to hold the strap of their pocketbook so their hands are bent in front of them, or they pretend to be adjusting their watch, or their bracelets, and the fact that even fully clothed the helpless obviousness of their breasts is embarrassing to them drives me absolutely nutso." "They see you staring, with your eyes sproinging out of your skull, of course they're embarrassed." "No, I'm very discreet. And this is only in certain moods, of course. Once I got into a wild state just stand ing at a bus stop. It was rush hour, and there were all these women driving to work, and they would drive by, and I would get this flash, this briefest of glimpses, of the wide shoulder strap of their safety belt crossing their breasts. That thick, densely woven material, pulling itself tight right between them. That's all I could see, hun dreds of times, different colors of dresses, shirts, blouses, over and over, every bra size and Lycra-cotton balance imaginable, like frames of a movie. By the time the bus came, I was literally unsteady, I could barely get the fare in the machine. What's that noise?" "Nothing. I was just changing the phone to the other 77 ear. "Oh," he said. "Did you see that thing about the Chi nese kid who suffered an episode of spontaneous human combustion?"

• From Vox (1992)

  129 soaked, and so was Lawrence, who was also wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and so was everyone around us, including the performers. There was some Venezuelan act in which a woman spun hard balls around very fast on long strings while two men played percussion behind her, and the balls smacked against the floorboards in interesting rhythms around her legs, and she was stream ing with sweat, and quite beautiful, but in a way that I thought was vaguely like me, and suddenly the two men would stop hitting the drums and she would freeze and make this kind of trilling scream, a beautiful strange wild sound. She was just covered with sweat, she looked really wild, and the two men behind her were exceedingly good-looking, wearing wide-brimmed black hats with chin straps, and I momentarily wanted to be her, and while they were taking their bows I adapted my time- tested striptease fantasy, and I thought that I was this woman in the black spangles, and I was spinning these balls very fast, faster than she could, so they were a blur, so fast that somehow, like in a cartoon fight when it's just a blur from which things, pieces of clothing, fly outward, somehow my whole outfit was torn in pieces from my body, and flung out into the audience, so that when the drumming stopped and I froze suddenly and made my trilling scream, I was totally naked, and all these pieces of my costume were still floating aloft in all directions, and each man who caught some damp shred of costume was overpowered and took his place in line to fuck me, and

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  Only a retired English officer makes me get really hard.” Suddenly he turned sad, sat on his bed, and hugged his knees, again as an actress might, this time for a meditative head shot staring into the setting sun beside a lake. His speech rhythms were unpredictable and snagged deep into my mind. “You see, we were dirt poor, real white trash. River rats—that’s what they call people who live so far down the hill they’re washed out every time it floods. We were river rats. William … Everett … Hunton, what a hoot …” He buried his face between his knees for a second. “Some day when we’re sisters I’ll tell you my real name, but if you snitch on me I’ll pull your braids and dip them in the inkwell.” He was up and laughing again. “Champagne, I feel in the mood for champagne.” He twirled the two bottles ready and waiting in an ice bucket. “Where is that girl? Isn’t she fabulous! So glamorous! I can’t believe she likes me. I suppose you think it’s all frightfully lesbian, you horrid cynic!” And again he was back at my side, this time kissing me. His mouth was wet and sweet from the full red mouthwash he was always swigging. I felt a floral rapture springing up inside me, as though a huge sunflower were about to poke out of my mouth, my entrails about to turn into soft ropes of wisteria, my cock into a red-hot poker. Everything in me rose up to greet him, and Willy grabbed my pants and shook my erection as if it were a hand: “Average, as you say.” He bit my ear. “Sorry, doll, I don’t go for pencil meat. I’m a hopeless size queen.” He seemed delighted to have demonstrated his power over me. Buffeted by his own witticisms and sexual splashiness, he was smiling a really huge smile. I saw in him the wide-eyed boy I sometimes impersonated, which made me concede the field to him. He was so much better at it, so much more appealing. I could still feel in my palms the girth of his tight, muscled, turned waist as he’d wriggled out of my arms a minute ago, exactly as though he’d been a small but powerful fish, a rosy trout breaking through the ice with the thrust of his tail. Then Annie came in and she and William flattered each other about their appearance and kissed, standing, for a long time as I sat and looked on—crotch-height, child-height. They were certainly aware of me and were posing for me. I left the young lovers after they’d assured me how much they adored me. They had even laughingly asked me to be the best man. Outside, it was dark already although only four o’clock, and fresh snow was falling in the quadrangle. I could hear typewriters clattering and see genies of steam lifting off the heated shower windows in the dorms.

• From Vox (1992)

  136 that way. But the thing was, I kept a faint racy undertone going in the conversation. For instance, I'd say, 'What do you think those ham-radio buffs really talked about? Do you think some of them were secretly gay, and they left their wives asleep and crept down to their finished basements in the middle of the night to have long con versations with friends in New Zealand or wherever?' He said, 'I suppose it's a possibility.' And about the drive-ins I said things like, 'It must be much more comfortable and private in drive-ins now, because you can close the window completely, you don't have that metal thing hanging there with the tinny sound, covered with yellow chipped paint, like a chaperone, you're not attached to anything around you, it's much more like being in a car on the expressway.' He said he didn't know exactly how drive-ins supplied the FM sound, because he hadn't been to a drive-in since he was eight years old, but he said that technically speaking it was an easy problem to solve, for instance there was a thing advertised in the back of Pop ular Science that picks up any sound in the room and broadcasts it to FM radios within several hundred yards, it's called a Bionic Mike Transmitter. I said, 'Ooo, a Bionic Mike Transmitter!' He said, 'Oh sure, it's this device that you can leave in this room, for instance, and it will broadcast any sound in the room to any nearby FM radio, if it's correctly tuned.' He said, 'Of course it's advertised with a big warning about how it's not meant for illegal surveillance. But probably that's what it's used

• From The Decameron (1353)

  There was then, by chance, in the harbour of the city a vessel laden with merchandise and bound for Chiarenza[116] in Roumelia; whereof two young Genoese were masters, who had already hoisted sail to depart as soon as the wind should be fair. Marato, having agreed with them, took order how he should on the ensuing night be received aboard their ship with the lady; and this done, as soon as it was dark, having inwardly determined what he should do, he secretly betook himself, with certain of his trustiest friends, whom he had enlisted for the purpose, to the house of Pericone, who nowise mistrusted him. There he hid himself, according to the ordinance appointed between them, and after a part of the night had passed, he admitted his companions and repaired with them to the chamber where Pericone lay with the lady. Having opened the door, they slew Pericone, as he slept, and took the lady, who was now awake and in tears, threatening her with death, if she made any outcry; after which they made off, unobserved, with great part of Pericone's most precious things and betook themselves in haste to the sea-shore, where Marato and the lady embarked without delay on board the ship, whilst his companions returned whence they came. [Footnote 116: The modern Klarentza in the north-west of the Morea, which latter province formed part of Roumelia under the Turkish domination.] The sailors, having a fair wind and a fresh, made sail and set out on their voyage, whilst the princess sore and bitterly bewailed both her former and that her second misadventure; but Marato, with that Saint Waxeth-in-hand, which God hath given us [men,] proceeded to comfort her after such a fashion that she soon grew familiar with him and forgetting Pericone, began to feel at her ease, when fortune, as if not content with the past tribulations wherewith it had visited her, prepared her a new affliction; for that, she being, as we have already more than once said, exceeding fair of favour and of very engaging manners, the two young men, the masters of the ship, became so passionately enamoured of her that, forgetting all else, they studied only to serve and pleasure her, being still on their guard lest Marato should get wind of the cause. Each becoming aware of the other's passion, they privily took counsel together thereof, and agreed to join in getting the lady for themselves and enjoy her in common, as if love should suffer this, as do merchandise and gain.

• From Vox (1992)

  138 olive oil and he said, 'Now, where does this go?' I said, 'Well, where would you like it to go?' And he said, 'I don't know.' So I said, 'Well sometimes, after I get my legs waxed, the day after, they're still a little tender, and I've found that olive oil really helps them feel better.' Which wasn't true, they feel fine the day after, but any way." "Erotic license." "Exactly. He said, 'But that would be terribly messy!' I said, 'So I'll stand in the bathtub.' And he said, 'But won't it be cold and clammy?' So I turned the bottle of oil on its side and put it in the microwave for twenty seconds. He felt it and he shook his head and said, 'I think it needs a full minute.' So we leaned on the counter, looking at the microwave, while it heated the oil. When the five beeps beeped, Lawrence took it out, and we went to the bathroom together. I stood in the bathtub and pulled my shorts up high on my legs, and very solemnly he poured a little pool of olive oil on his fingers and rubbed it just above my knee." "He was kneeling himself?" "Yes. The bathtub wasn't really wet anymore—I mean it was still humid from both the showers, but we didn't have the water running or anything. He said, 'You're very smooth.' I said, 'Thank you.' A rather powerful smell of olive oil surrounded us, and I began to feel quite Mediterranean and Bacchic, and honestly somewhat like a mushroom being lightly sautéed. He stared at his

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  Lou reserved special scorn for boys who whispered to their lovers on the way to a midnight movie, “I’ve still got your babies inside me.” “Don’t they know those babies are dead spunk festering up their filthy bungholes!” A real boy, someone skinny and under twelve who walked around with his mouth open, sent Lou into raptures. One sweaty afternoon in Chicago we rode the elevated and sat behind a boy of eleven or so in shorts and T-shirt. The boy stared out the window and wagged his right leg against his stationary left leg, in a ceaseless, thoughtless way. A hard little erection could be seen pressed flat against his tummy in his white shorts. Unconsciously he kept batting at the erection with the back of his right hand, now to one side of it, now to the other, as though despite trial and error he had yet to find the exact spot. His skin had no pores, no bulges, and no sheen—it was as mat and consistent as face powder, except it looked cool, firm, and alive. It drank the light as soil drinks water. His shoulders and thin arms hung limply down with sublime inconsequence, though his shoulder blades looked too knotty under the cotton, as if they were about to hatch wings. The same fine, nearly invisible gold down that covered his cheeks, and had collected in a haze just below the line of his light brown hair, dusted his nape in a precise pattern, the shape of a cursive letter M, rising on either side and dipping in the center toward his spine. If the down had been molten it would have roared as it rose to descend that glistening chute. “Yes,” Lou insisted, “ if it made a sound.” He sank into a silence then sighed: “ If it were gold … just look at that nape.” Lou spoke as loudly as if we were conversing in a language all our own. I don’t mean to suggest, by the way, that I was or am dismissive or even critical of anything Lou was saying. His vision of sex, of boys, and of poetry, even (as I was to discover) of drugs, was my first and strongest encounter with a pure theory of beauty. I’d always heard sensible down-to-earth values praised, but they were the only kind I’d ever observed, and the repeated endorsements seemed redundant. Now at last I’d met the man everyone had warned me against. I realized he’d never love me. Not that there was anything so wrong with me, but we didn’t form a couple he would have considered sexy. We were companionable, but I was too big and educated to be the boy, and too much younger to be the man. For a week or ten days, Lou tried to turn me into the man, but I was too affectionate in a puppy-dog way.

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  He had an aesthetic of religion (Catholic orthodoxy over corny Protestant cultism), an aesthetic of psychoanalysis (Freud, not that seedy Jung), an aesthetic of drugs (the deadly nightshade of heroin rather than the “loco weed” of marijuana; “Pot’s for people who want to feel funny, like those cows that get high on loco weed and run into electric fences”). One night toward the end of August I was sleeping upstairs in my mother’s apartment. I’d waited for his call all evening and I’d called him several times without success. Now Lou wanted to see me. He breathed noisily and said with a thick tongue, “Bunny, I need—” and then the receiver must have fallen out of his grasp, since I could hear him still mumbling to himself. I hurried downstairs in the elevator. I rang his doorbell again and again, and even knocked, but I didn’t want to create a scene. His neighbors had already complained to the management. At last he opened the door. A centimeter of cigarette smoked in his hand. Behind him in shoals of faint light, the wreck of his furniture was heaped up. He walked with the floating gait of someone moved by tides, not the will. “Lou, honey, what’s wrong?” I asked him. I followed him into the bedroom. His black cat was gorging itself on an overturned carton of chop suey Lou must have ordered in. I watched the cat swallow lump after lump of glutinous vegetables pooling on the carpet. Its working throat was reflected by the mirror that had fallen off the hook. The mirror had cracked in half but stayed upright. Glasses of rum and Coke stood empty or half full on every flat surface. The impression was of a middle-class apartment where a tribe of bums had been squatting for weeks. The fluorescent tube in the bathroom and the television screen, empty picture rolling, provided the only light. “Bunny,” he said as he collapsed on the unmade bed, “you’ve got to get me—” static on the line, but for a moment I thought he actually said, “a high colonic irrigation.” At last I realized he had said a “high colonic irrigation,” whatever that meant. In pained snatches he explained that when he shot up (heroin? he didn’t say), his digestive tract would sometimes “stall” as a result of his having lost so many yards of gut. The only way to restore peristalsis was to find someone with the archaic equipment necessary (small smile) for this disagreeable therapy (still smaller). It was one in the morning, but in a controlled panic I strummed the Yellow Pages. The first two numbers didn’t respond but the third yielded a sleazy male voice filtered through Lord Calvert and Kools, a minor Mafia voice. Fortunately Gerald, the doorman, had gone off duty and the lobby was unattended. It was drizzling. Lou was as hard to get into a taxi as a colt—he was all stiff legs, melting torso, and sharp elbows.

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  “I’d change mine to yours.” We carried home bags of groceries, went for a ride in the suburbs, snuggled up to watch television. Maria enjoyed the world, the world’s charms, without paying the world’s price. She simply refused to see our homosexuality or age difference as a problem. She wouldn’t discuss it. She started with the idea that bohemians were exempt from the ordinary rules. We went to a lesbian bar together. Maria entered the Volley Ball arrayed in black: a black trench coat over black jeans and a man’s black shirt. Her delicate white skin looked as raunchy as Elvis Presley’s flickering image on television. We watched the women dancing together while three old Negro men in the band, faces petrified into indifference, tooted and banged. A butch entered squiring a blonde whore tottering along on spike heels under dairy whip hair, her chubby hand rising again and again to tuck a stray wisp back into the creamy dome. On the wall was a sign, flyblown and fading, that read: “Hard Times Party Tonight.” Maria explained that the sign suggested a costume party and was a dodge around the law that forbade women to wear more than three articles of men’s dress—jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, say. A few businessmen, whose fantasies ran to lesbian couples, sat around the bar, eyes glued to the dance floor. A bouncer kept them away from the women—look but don’t touch! The one toilet was unavailable for a whole half hour at a stretch. Two women had barricaded themselves inside and were necking. Most of the women addressed each other with names drawn from children’s books (“Piglet,” “Eeyore,” and “Pooh” were favorites) or by men’s nicknames (“Andy” and “Tony” seemed popular). Maria’s apartment smelled of oil paint and turpentine. Her father had carved a grandfather clock for her in his basement shop at home. The Salvation Army couch Maria had upholstered in crisp blue-and-white bed ticking. She would sit on a high stool, dressed in a white smock, a cigarette burning in her hand like incense before an idol. I posed for her, but she said I wasn’t a good model. She spent most of her time modeling in clay two nude female figures whose linking arms and legs formed the oval frame of a mirror. She clung to me when I left. She said, “You’ve spoiled me with your visit. How can I go back to my spinster’s life?” “I’ll write you every day and get back down here in a week or two, three at the most.” I wanted to marry Maria and avoid the solitude and suffering everyone had told me homosexuality would bring. I thought marriage would define my nebulous feelings toward her; if I were married, I’d be a husband. Yet something kept me from answering her letters. I resolved every morning to write her; but every night I went to bed without having mailed off a letter. Her letters dropped regularly into my box.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  20 My son, be guided by your father’s [God-given] commandment (instruction) And do not b reject the teaching of your mother; [Eph 6:1–3 ] 21 Bind them continually upon your heart (in your thoughts), And tie them around your neck. [Prov 3:3 ; 7:3 ] 22 When you walk about, they (the godly teachings of your parents) will guide you; When you sleep, they will keep watch over you; And when you awake, they will talk to you. 23 For the commandment is a lamp, and the teaching [of the law] is light, And reproofs (rebukes) for discipline are the way of life, [Ps 19:8 ; 119:105 ] 24 To keep you from the evil woman, From [the flattery of] the smooth tongue of an immoral woman. 25 Do not desire (lust after) her beauty in your heart, Nor let her capture you with her eyelashes. 26 For on account of a prostitute one is reduced to a piece of bread [to be eaten up], And the immoral woman hunts [with a hook] the precious life [of a man]. 27 Can a man take fire to his chest And his clothes not be burned? 28 Or can a man walk on hot coals And his feet not be scorched? 29 So is the one who goes in to his neighbor’s wife; Whoever touches her will not be found innocent or go unpunished. 30 People do not despise a thief if he steals To satisfy himself when he is hungry; 31 But when he is found, he must repay seven times [what he stole]; He must give all the property of his house [if necessary to meet his fine]. 32 But whoever commits adultery with a woman lacks common sense and sound judgment and an understanding [of moral principles]; He who would destroy his soul does it. 33 Wounds and disgrace he will find, And his reproach (blame) will not be blotted out. 34 For jealousy enrages the [wronged] husband; He will not spare [the guilty one] on the day of vengeance. 35 He will not accept any ransom [offered to buy him off from demanding full punishment]; Nor will he be satisfied though you offer him many gifts (bribes). Proverbs 7 The Wiles of the Prostitute 1 M Y SON , keep my words And treasure my commandments within you [so they are readily available to guide you]. 2 Keep my commandments and live, And keep my teaching and law as the apple of your eye. 3 Bind them [securely] on your fingers; Write them on the tablet of your heart. 4 Say to [skillful and godly] wisdom, “You are my sister,” And regard understanding and intelligent insight as your intimate friends; 5 That they may keep you from the immoral woman, From the foreigner [who does not observe God’s laws and] who flatters with her [smooth] words. 6 For at the window of my house I looked out through my lattice.

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  His things were all severely, unexceptionably masculine and patrician—his cologne from Panhelicon, his shoes from Church’s, his suits, shirts, and ties from Brooks, his black lisle stockings knee-high and held up by garters, his hat from Lock’s in London: exactly the wardrobe lots of money and no confidence would have selected in London or New York, but here in homey old Michigan, where mothers ran up their kids’ clothes on the sewing machine, or ordered them in bulk from J. C. Penney’s, such garments looked exaggerated, certainly conspicuous. He even had a monogrammed silver hairbrush set, an old Vuitton trunk, a cut-glass sherry bottle. “Such a hoot!” he shrieked when I teased him. “Mad for High WASP camp! Only a retired English officer makes me get really hard.” Suddenly he turned sad, sat on his bed, and hugged his knees, again as an actress might, this time for a meditative head shot staring into the setting sun beside a lake. His speech rhythms were unpredictable and snagged deep into my mind. “You see, we were dirt poor, real white trash. River rats—that’s what they call people who live so far down the hill they’re washed out every time it floods. We were river rats. William … Everett … Hunton, what a hoot …” He buried his face between his knees for a second. “Some day when we’re sisters I’ll tell you my real name, but if you snitch on me I’ll pull your braids and dip them in the inkwell.” He was up and laughing again. “Champagne, I feel in the mood for champagne.” He twirled the two bottles ready and waiting in an ice bucket. “Where is that girl? Isn’t she fabulous! So glamorous! I can’t believe she likes me. I suppose you think it’s all frightfully lesbian, you horrid cynic!” And again he was back at my side, this time kissing me. His mouth was wet and sweet from the full red mouthwash he was always swigging. I felt a floral rapture springing up inside me, as though a huge sunflower were about to poke out of my mouth, my entrails about to turn into soft ropes of wisteria, my cock into a red-hot poker. Everything in me rose up to greet him, and Willy grabbed my pants and shook my erection as if it were a hand: “Average, as you say.” He bit my ear. “Sorry, doll, I don’t go for pencil meat. I’m a hopeless size queen.”

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  His lips are lilies Dripping sweet-scented myrrh. 14 “His hands are rods of gold Set with beryl; His abdomen is a figure of carved ivory Inlaid with sapphires. 15 “His legs are [strong and steady] pillars of alabaster Set upon pedestals of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, Stately and choice as the cedars. 16 “His mouth is full of sweetness; Yes, he is altogether lovely and desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.” [Ps 92:15 ; Col 1:15 ] Song of Solomon 6 Mutual Delight in Each Other (The Chorus) 1 “W HERE HAS your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Where is your beloved hiding himself, That we may seek him with you?” (The Shulammite Bride) 2 “My beloved has gone down to his garden, To the beds of balsam, To feed his flock in the gardens And gather lilies. 3 “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine, He who feeds his flock among the lilies.” (The Bridegroom) 4 “You are as beautiful as a Tirzah, my darling, As lovely as Jerusalem, As majestic as an army with banners! 5 “Turn your [flashing] eyes away from me, For they have confused and overcome me; Your hair is like [the shimmering black fleece of] a flock of [Arabian] goats That have descended from Mount Gilead. 6 “Your teeth are like a flock of ewes Which have come up from their washing, All of which bear twins, And not one among them has lost her young. 7 “Your temples are like a slice of the pomegranate Behind your veil. 8 “There are sixty queens and eighty b concubines, And maidens without number; 9 But my dove, my perfect one, stands alone [above them all]; She is her mother’s only daughter; She is the pure child of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and called her blessed and happy, The queens and the concubines also, and they praised her, saying, [Col 2:8 , 9 ] 10 ‘Who is this that looks down like the dawn, Fair and beautiful as the full moon, Clear and pure as the sun, As majestic as an army with banners?’ 11 “I went down to the orchard of nut trees To see the flowers of the valley, To see whether the grapevine had budded And the pomegranates were in flower. 12 “Before I was aware [of what was happening], my desire had brought me Into the area of the princes of my people [the king’s retinue].” (The Chorus) 13 “Return, return, O Shulammite; Return, return, that we may gaze at you.” (The Bridegroom) “W hy should you gaze at the Shulammite, As at the dance of the two armies? Song of Solomon 7 Admiration by the Bridegroom 1 “H OW BEAUTIFUL are your feet in sandals, O prince’s daughter! The curves of your hips are like jewels, The work of the hands of an artist.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  10 “He made its posts of silver, Its back of gold, Its seat of purple cloth, The interior lovingly and intricately wrought By the daughters of Jerusalem. 11 “Go forth, O daughters of Zion, And gaze on King Solomon wearing the crown With which his mother [Bathsheba] has crowned him On the day of his wedding, On the day of his gladness of heart.” Song of Solomon 4 Solomon’s Love Expressed (The Bridegroom) 1 “H OW FAIR and beautiful you are, my darling, How very beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like those of a dove; Your hair is like [the shimmering black fleece of] a flock of [Arabian] goats That have descended from Mount Gilead [beyond the Jordan]. 2 “Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn ewes Which have come up from washing, All of which bear twins, And not one among them has lost her young. 3 “Your lips are like a ribbon of scarlet, And your mouth is lovely. Your temples are like a slice of the pomegranate Behind your veil. 4 “Your neck is like the tower of David, Built with rows of [glistening] stones, Whereon hang a thousand shields, All of them shields of warriors. 5 “Your two breasts are like two fawns, Twins of a gazelle Which feed among the lilies. 6 “Until the day breaks And the shadows flee away, [In my thoughts] I will go my way to the mountain of myrrh And to the hill of frankincense. 7 “O my love, you are altogether beautiful and fair. There is no flaw nor blemish in you! [John 14:18 ; Eph 5:27 ] 8 “Come away with me from Lebanon, my [promised] bride, May you come with me from Lebanon. Journey down from the top of Amana, From the summit of Senir and Hermon, From the dens of lions, From the mountains of leopards. [2 Cor 11:2 , 3 ] 9 “You have ravished my heart and given me courage, my sister, my [promised] bride; You have ravished my heart and given me courage with a single glance of your eyes, With one jewel of your necklace. 10 “How beautiful is your love, my sister, my [promised] bride! How much better is your love than wine, And the fragrance of your oils Than all kinds of balsam and spices. [John 15:9 ; Rom 8:35 ] 11 “Your lips, my [promised] bride, drip honey [as the honeycomb]; Honey and milk are under your tongue, And the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon. 12 “A garden enclosed is my sister, my [promised] bride— A rock garden locked, a spring sealed up. 13 “Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, [A paradise] with precious fruits, henna with fragrant plants, [John 15:5 ; Eph 5:9 ] 14 Fragrant plants and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, With all trees of frankincense, Myrrh and aloes, along with all the finest spices.

• From Vox (1992)

  153 apart on the bed, and I know that everything I'm doing is forward, is really inexcusable, but in a way you're curious, and I'm just relaying facts, and I sense your willingness to have this happen, and I push the Mmmm- Detector into the pillow and then reach under it and find your disintegrating copy of Forum, and I sit down on the bed and page through it slowly, holding the device to each page, until I reach a certain page, and I peer very closely at the sensor, and then I hold it close to the button on your pants, and I inspect it again, and I look up smiling, and I hold the magazine out to you, pointing at something on the page, and I say, Tou were reading this sentence, this phrase right here in this sentence, when I buzzed your apartment. "And," she said, "I take the Forum and read what you're pointing at, and you're pretty close, it's not exactly the right phrase, but you've found the right paragraph, anyway. And I don't know quite what to do. I probably should be calling the cops, because you seem to know all this stuff about me, but on the other hand, there you are, and I am still feeling all puffy down below, and you have a certain amount of charm, and an intriguing pocket watch, and so I offer you a, a what? A dry Vermouth on the rocks. And you accept." "I do, you're right," he said, "and now I'm sitting on an armchair when you come toward me with the drinks, a low sort of armchair, and I have my legs sprawled open in a fairly innocent way, and I just dust off the area of the

• From The Beautiful Room Is Empty (1988)

  crème de menthe. His hand had wormed its way down my trousers and was on my cock and I was thinking, We’ll become lovers we’ll live together forever I love him why were there no signs. He looked and acted like a ferret and now his hand became one; my hand stroked his stomach, so taut from all his sit- ups a dropped dime would have bounced on it and I thought, Does he love me too much, will he become a nuisance always underfoot in the fraternity house, this is probably a mistake. And then we’d half undressed each other, my cummerbund was cast on the floor, my studs had popped, and shifting streams of red and yellow light and heat flowed up from my legs through my chest and blazed across my closed eyes. “We’re crazy,” I whispered in his ear, “the other guys ...” He pulled back and looked at me quizzically and then his tongue, muscular as a snail’s foot, was washing my face, the tip probing my nostril, now licking inside the arch above my eyelids and a second later back on my tongue and I was grateful for the ferocity of his desire because I felt borne up by it, just as though I were flying on the back of a stork—yes, one of those babies the stork wings down to its parents. His hand, calloused from all his commando workouts, closed over mine and led me into the room he shared with three other guys. Not a tender squeeze, just the practical pressure of horniness. His roommates were asleep, snoring or groaning only a few feet away from us. We finished undressing in a flash. Mick was standing naked beside me, smooth torso, furry legs, as though he were still wearing hip-length black stockings but had peeled off the matching tops. Then he slid in bed beside me and took liberties, we took and took liberties touching each other all over in all those secret places our eyes had glanced at obliquely in the fraternity shower room. Now my fingertips found that long muscle that ran from the anus up to the base of the penis—this second submerged penis, the father penis, sheathed by the body itself. And his fingers were digging into my buttocks as though he hoped to push me into him, blend two willing but separate entities, less separate now that his mouth was on my ear, thundering breath into me. Certainly my thoughts were inflating and floating upward. Now he was straddling my chest and his cock was sliding over my lips. A second later he’d swung around and we were sucking each other, lying on our sides, Romulus and Remus before the wolf arrived to nurse them. In the hall light that came in through the open door I could see the red veins in his translucent scrotum, autumn leaf, and I looked up the crack of his ass.

• From Vox (1992)

  155 the third setting, because of shrinkage probably, and I take my fingers and I follow the upward curving edge of the bra as it rises toward your shoulders, and I ride this curve up a little way over your shoulders and then back down your back and in to the middle again. It's like driving over the Bay Bridge. Then I follow the bottom edge horizontally around, under your arms, until I just reach the seam where a cup begins, and you feel all this somewhat dimly, because it's through your shirt and through the bra, but you are more aware now of the shape of the bra that you're wearing, and then I go back to the fastener and I make that time-honored pinching move and release the hooks through your shirt, and each side pulls away, and now I feel that I have this perfect central stretch with no interruption, and I press my left palm between your shoulder blades and slide slowly down, moving your shirt, feeling wrinkles in it form and pass, and I can feel some slight bumps of your backbone—what a beautiful back, so warm. I want very much to feel your skin. So I put both hands on your hips and hook my two thumbs and index fingers under the bottom edge of your shirt, or no, I grab hold of it on either side and pull it, because it was tucked into your pants, and I pull it out, and then I hook my hands underneath, and I can feel your skin move slightly as my fingers first touch it, just above your hips, and I run my fingers back along the inside of your waistband, and I can feel the warmth of your ass, and then I flatten my hands

• From The Decameron (1353)

  There were, then, in Siena two young men of the people, whereof one was called Tingoccio Mini and the other Meuccio di Tura; they abode at Porta Salaja and consorted well nigh never save one with the other. To all appearance they loved each exceedingly and resorting, as men do, to churches and preachings, they had many a time heard tell of the happiness and of the misery that are, according to their deserts, allotted in the next world to the souls of those who die; of which things desiring to have certain news and finding no way thereto, they promised one another that whichever of them died first should, an he might, return to him who abode on life and give him tidings of that which he would fain know; and this they confirmed with an oath. Having come to this accord and companying still together, as hath been said, it chanced that Tingoccio became godfather to a child which one Ambruogio Anselmini, abiding at Campo Reggi, had had of his wife, Mistress Mita by name, and from time to time visiting, together with Meuccio, his gossip who was a very fair and lovesome lady, he became, notwithstanding the gossipship, enamoured of her. Meuccio, on like wise, hearing her mightily commended of his friend and being himself much pleased with her, fell in love with her, and each hid his love from the other, but not for one same reason. Tingoccio was careful not to discover it to Meuccio, on account of the naughty deed which himseemed he did to love his gossip and which he had been ashamed that any should know. Meuccio, on the other hand, kept himself therefrom,[358] for that he had already perceived that the lady pleased Tingoccio; whereupon he said in himself, 'If I discover this to him, he will wax jealous of me and being able, as her gossip, to bespeak her at his every pleasure, he will, inasmuch as he may, bring me in ill savour with her, and so I shall never have of her aught that may please me.' [Footnote 358: _i.e._ from discovering to his friend his liking for the lady.]

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  7 And among the naive [the inexperienced and gullible], I saw among the youths A young man lacking [good] sense, 8 Passing through the street near her corner; And he took the path to her house 9 In the twilight, in the evening; In the black and dark night. 10 And there a woman met him, Dressed as a prostitute and sly and cunning of heart. 11 She was boisterous and rebellious; a She would not stay at home. 12 At times she was in the streets, at times in the market places, Lurking and setting her ambush at every corner. 13 So she caught him and kissed him And with a brazen and impudent face she said to him: 14 “I have peace offerings with me; Today I have paid my vows. 15 “So I came out to meet you [that you might share with me the feast of my offering], Diligently I sought your face and I have found you. 16 “I have spread my couch with coverings and cushions of tapestry, With colored fine linen of Egypt. 17 “I have perfumed my bed With myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. 18 “Come, let us drink our fill of love until morning; Let us console and delight ourselves with love. 19 “For my husband is not at home. He has gone on a long journey; 20 He has taken a bag of money with him, And he will come home on the appointed day.” 21 With her many persuasions she caused him to yield; With her flattering lips she seduced him. 22 Suddenly he went after her, as an ox goes to the slaughter [not knowing the outcome], Or as one in stocks going to the correction [to be given] to a fool, 23 Until an arrow pierced his liver [with a mortal wound]; Like a bird fluttering straight into the net, He did not know that it would cost him his life. 24 Now therefore, my sons, listen to me, And pay attention to the words of my mouth. 25 Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, Do not stray into her [evil, immoral] paths. 26 For she has cast down many [mortally] wounded; Indeed, all who were killed by her were strong. [Neh 13:26 ] 27 Her house is the way to b Sheol, Descending to the chambers of death. [1 Cor 6:9 ] Proverbs 8 The Commendation of Wisdom 1 D OES NOT wisdom call, And understanding lift up her voice? 2 On the top of the heights beside the way, Where the paths meet, wisdom takes her stand; 3 Beside the gates, at the entrance to the city, At the entrance of the doors, she cries out: 4 “To you, O men, I call, And my voice is directed to the sons of men.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  You must know, then, that there was once in Lombardy a convent, very famous for sanctity and religion, wherein, amongst the other nuns who were there, was a young lady of noble birth and gifted with marvellous beauty, who was called Isabetta and who, coming one day to the grate to speak with a kinsman of hers, fell in love with a handsome young man who accompanied him. The latter, seeing her very fair and divining her wishes with his eyes, became on like wise enamoured of her, and this love they suffered a great while without fruit, to the no small unease of each. At last, each being solicited by a like desire, the young man hit upon a means of coming at his nun in all secrecy, and she consenting thereto, he visited her, not once, but many times, to the great contentment of both. But, this continuing, it chanced one night that he was, without the knowledge of himself or his mistress, seen of one of the ladies of the convent to take leave of Isabetta and go his ways. The nun communicated her discovery to divers others and they were minded at first to denounce Isabetta to the abbess, who was called Madam Usimbalda and who, in the opinion of the nuns and of whosoever knew her, was a good and pious lady; but, on consideration, they bethought themselves to seek to have the abbess take her with the young man, so there might be no room for denial. Accordingly, they held their peace and kept watch by turns in secret to surprise her.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Accordingly, without saying aught of the matter to any, he punctually repaired thither at the hour appointed him and found the bagnio taken by the lady; nor had he waited long ere there came two slave-girls laden with gear and bearing on their heads, the one a fine large mattress of cotton wool and the other a great basket full of gear. The mattress they set on a bedstead in one of the chambers of the bagnio and spread thereon a pair of very fine sheets, laced with silk, together with a counterpane of snow-white Cyprus buckram[415] and two pillows wonder-curiously wrought.[416] Then, putting off their clothes they entered the bath and swept it all and washed it excellent well. Nor was it long ere the lady herself came thither, with other two slave-girls, and accosted Salabaetto with the utmost joy; then, as first she had commodity, after she had both clipped and kissed him amain, heaving the heaviest sighs in the world, she said to him, 'I know not who could have brought me to this pass, other than thou; thou hast kindled a fire in my vitals, little dog of a Tuscan!' Then, at her instance, they entered the bath, both naked, and with them two of the slave-girls; and there, without letting any else lay a finger on him, she with her own hands washed Salabaetto all wonder-well with musk and clove-scented soap; after which she let herself be washed and rubbed of the slave-girls. This done, the latter brought two very white and fine sheets, whence came so great a scent of roses that everything there seemed roses, in one of which they wrapped Salabaetto and in the other the lady and taking them in their arms, carried them both to the bed prepared for them. There, whenas they had left sweating, the slave-girls did them loose from the sheets wherein they were wrapped and they abode naked in the others, whilst the girls brought out of the basket wonder-goodly casting-bottles of silver, full of sweet waters, rose and jessamine and orange and citron-flower scented, and sprinkled them all therewith; after which boxes of succades and wines of great price were produced and they refreshed themselves awhile. [Footnote 415: _Bucherame._ The word "buckram" was anciently applied to the finest linen cloth, as is apparently the case here; see Ducange, voce _Boquerannus_, and Florio, voce _Bucherame_.] [Footnote 416: _i.e._ in needlework.]