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 319 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  She then had me untied, but I had to get down on my knees and thank her for the punishment and kiss her hand. [Footnote 2: A woman’s jacket.] “Now you understand the supersensual fool! Under the lash of a beautiful woman my senses first realized the meaning of woman. In her fur-jacket she seemed to me like a wrathful queen, and from then on my aunt became the most desirable woman on God’s earth. “My Cato-like austerity, my shyness before woman, was nothing but an excessive feeling for beauty. In my imagination sensuality became a sort of cult. I took an oath to myself that I would not squander its holy wealth upon any ordinary person, but I would reserve it for an ideal woman, if possible for the goddess of love herself. “I went to the university at a very early age. It was in the capital where my aunt lived. My room looked at that time like Doctor Faustus’s. Everything in it was in a wild confusion. There were huge closets stuffed full of books, which I bought for a song from a Jewish dealer on the Servanica; 3 there were globes, atlases, flasks, charts of the heavens, skeletons of animals, skulls, the busts of eminent men. It looked as though Mephistopheles might have stepped out from behind the huge green store as a wandering scholiast at any moment. [Footnote 3: The street of the Jews in Lemberg.] “I studied everything in a jumble without system, without selection: chemistry, alchemy, history, astronomy, philosophy, law, anatomy, and literature; I read Homer, Virgil, Ossian, Schiller, Goethe, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Voltaire, Molière, the Koran, the Kosmos, Casanova’s Memoirs. I grew more confused each day, more fantastical, more supersensual. All the time a beautiful ideal woman hovered in my imagination. Every so and so often she appeared before me like a vision among my leather-bound books and dead bones, lying on a bed of roses, surrounded by cupids. Sometimes she appeared gowned like the Olympians with the stern white face of the plaster Venus; sometimes in braids of a rich brown, blue-eyes, in my aunt’s red velvet kazabaika, trimmed with ermine. “One morning when she had again risen out of the golden mist of my imagination in all her smiling beauty, I went to see Countess Sobol, who received me in a friendly, even cordial manner. She gave me a kiss of welcome, which put all my senses in a turmoil. She was probably about forty years old, but like most well-preserved women of the world, still very attractive.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  In passing, Frederico also touches on the role of the two remaining cornerstones in boosting his affection for Audrey: searching for power and overcoming ambivalence. He doesn’t like the fact that she controls how often they see each other. Yet her position of power keeps him, quite literally, in hot pursuit. More often than not, the desire to be close is felt most keenly by whichever partner is less secure—Frederico in this case. Nor is it unusual for someone in Frederico’s position to have bouts of ambivalence about the relationship. He naturally wants to avoid being hurt again if this affair is doomed, yet each time he reaffirms that Audrey is worth the risks, his ambivalence is overpowered by his need to be close. CLOSENESS AS AN ANTIAPHRODISIACHardly anyone needs to be convinced that feeling close to someone can be a turn-on. Yet it’s equally important to realize two ways that emotional connections can dampen rather than stimulate desire: (1) when closeness becomes an obligation or demand and (2) when it threatens to dissolve the separateness that is the basis of all attraction. In Frederico’s story, it’s impossible to ignore the contrast between his role as a closed, nonintimate male with his old girlfriend and his eagerness for total involvement with Audrey. We know practically nothing about his old relationship. But in his own analysis of why he felt so much closer to Audrey, Frederico writes, “Nancy [his old girlfriend] made me feel like intimacy was a chore—something to get out of. I also felt completely inadequate to satisfy her. Proving to Nancy that I loved her had become a test I was destined to fail.” Of this I am sure: whenever closeness feels like a requirement—something owed rather than inherently gratifying—it inevitably switches from an aphrodisiac to an antiaphrodisiac. The erotic mind may enthusiastically gravitate toward the risks of intimate self-disclosure. But once you become convinced that you cannot meet that challenge, your enthusiasm changes into avoidance. Many long-term partners set each other up for a similar fate by allowing their closeness to become a “should” rather than a choice. Even couples who manage to avoid making intimacy an obligation will eventually face its paradoxical nature. In early romance the urge to merge magnetically draws the lovers to each other. Yet once they are doing everything together, developing feelings and opinions as a unit rather than as two individuals, they undermine the sense of otherness that was the original basis of their mutual appeal.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  From the moment I saw him, it was like the beginning of our relationship all over again. Sexual sparks were flying everywhere. He knew the right places to touch me and the perfect words to say. And he used all his tricks until I was like jelly. Incredible! Joyce’s explosive encounter is defined and energized by the push-pull of ambivalence. Her desire to avoid him only intensifies the magnetism of his “tricks.” Yet by the end of the story, her ambivalence is nowhere to be seen. In a burst of passion, ambivalence is transformed. THE CORNERSTONES IN ACTIONNone of the cornerstones is required for sexual arousal. A strong mutual attraction combined with a vital sensuality can, by themselves, create a very satisfying turn-on. But as you have seen, the cornerstones are extremely effective arousal intensifiers. And because excitement is notably heightened in the peak moment, all the features that contribute to our arousal, including any of the cornerstones, are especially visible. You’ve probably noticed that many of The Group’s encounters and fantasies include more than one cornerstone—even though I’ve deliberately selected stories that are relatively pure examples of whichever cornerstone I’m discussing at the time. Three-quarters of The Group’s memorable encounters and fantasies contain at least one cornerstone, and about 40 percent mention two or more. Zack alludes to all cornerstones except ambivalence: There was this girl that I wanted for a year and had often used her as a model during masturbation sessions [longing]. When we finally had sex for the first time it was great. I enjoyed being the aggressor, since I had always been the passive one in my previous sexual relationships. I enjoyed having her submit to me and let me do as I pleased [power]. What really turned me on was seeing her naked and hearing her breathe deeply. We were also in a place that was risky to be fooling around in [naughtiness factor]. I had just about come by the time I had her clothes off. It was extremely arousing when she started touching me. I had always imagined what it would be like and it turned out to be even better. Many people have a particular affinity for just one or two of the cornerstones, while the others are of little interest. In general, those cornerstones that were most consistently a part of your earliest experiences of arousal are likely to be the ones you respond to today. Sometimes, although not always, it is essential to become aware of which cornerstone or cornerstones excite you. I learned this when Alice entered therapy with me because she was tired of acquiescing to sex with Hugh, her husband of nineteen years. Rarely had she felt genuine desire during her marriage. But now an undeniable revulsion was forcing her to stop going through the motions and discover why she was so turned off.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Wanda asked quickly. “For me, too.” “And if I should give you that pleasure,” Wanda exclaimed mockingly. “I shall suffer terrible agonies, but I shall adore you the more,” I replied. “But you would never deceive me, you would have the daemonic greatness of saying to me: I shall love no one but you, but I shall make happy whoever pleases me.” Wanda shook her head. “I don’t like deception, I am honest, but what man exists who can support the burden of truth. Were I say to you: this serene, sensual life, this paganism is my ideal, would you be strong enough to bear it?” “Certainly. I could endure anything so as not to lose you. I feel how little I really mean to you.” “But Severin—” “But it is so,” said I, “and just for that reason—” “For that reason you would—” she smiled roguishly—“have I guessed it?” “Be your slave!” I exclaimed. “Be your unrestricted property, without a will of my own, of which you could dispose as you wished, and which would therefore never be a burden to you. While you drink life at its fullness, while surrounded by luxury, you enjoy the serene happiness and Olympian love, I want to be your servant, put on and take off your shoes.” “You really aren’t so far from wrong,” replied Wanda, “for only as my slave could you endure my loving others. Furthermore the freedom of enjoyment of the ancient world is unthinkable without slavery. It must give one a feeling of like unto a god to see a man kneel before one and tremble. I want a slave, do you hear, Severin?” “Am I not your slave?” “Then listen to me,” said Wanda excitedly, seizing my hand. “I want to be yours, as long as I love you.” “A month?” “Perhaps, even two.” “And then?” “Then you become my slave.” “And you?” “I? Why do you ask? I am a goddess and sometimes I descend from my Olympian heights to you, softly, very softly, and secretly. “But what does all this mean,” said Wanda, resting her head in both hands with her gaze lost in the distance, “a golden fancy which never can become true.” An uncanny brooding melancholy seemed shed over her entire being; I have never seen her like that. “Why unachievable?” I began. “Because slavery doesn’t exist any longer.” “Then we will go to a country where it still exists, to the Orient, to Turkey,” I said eagerly. “You would—Severin—in all seriousness,” Wanda replied. Her eyes burned. “Yes, in all seriousness, I want to be your slave,” I continued. “I want your power over me to be sanctified by law; I want my life to be in your hands, I want nothing that could protect or save me from you. Oh, what a voluptuous joy when once I feel myself entirely dependent upon your absolute will, your whim, at your beck and call.

• From Sister Outsider (1984)

  The aim of each thing which we do is to make our lives and the lives of our children richer and more possible. Within the celebration of the erotic in all our endeavors, my work becomes a conscious decision — a longed-for bed which I enter gratefully and from which I rise up empowered. Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic demand from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. And the lack of concern for the erotic root and satisfactions of our work is felt in our disaffection from so much of what we do. For instance, how often do we truly love our work even at its most difficult? The principal horror of any system which defines the good in terms of profit rather than in terms of human need, or which defines human need to the exclusion of the psychic and emotional components of that need — the principal horror of such a system is that it robs our work of its erotic value, its erotic power and life appeal and fulfillment. Such a system reduces work to a travesty of necessities, a duty by which we earn bread or oblivion for ourselves and those we love. But this is tantamount to blinding a painter and then telling her to improve her work, and to enjoy the act of painting. It is not only next to impossible, it is also profoundly cruel. As women, we need to examine the ways in which our world can be truly different. I am speaking here of the necessity for reassessing the quality of all the aspects of our lives and of our work, and of how we move toward and through them. The very word erotic comes from the Greek word eros , the personification of love in all its aspects — born of Chaos, and personifying creative power and harmony. When I speak of the erotic, then, I speak of it as an assertion of the lifeforce of women; of that creative energy empowered, the knowledge and use of which we are now reclaiming in our language, our history, our dancing, our loving, our work, our lives. There are frequent attempts to equate pornography and eroticism, two diametrically opposed uses of the sexual. Because of these attempts, it has become fashionable to separate the spiritual ( psychic and emotional) from the political, to see them as contradictory or antithetical. “What do you mean, a poetic revolutionary, a meditating gunrunner?” In the same way, we have attempted to separate the spiritual and the erotic, thereby reducing the spiritual to a world of flattened affect, a world of the ascetic who aspires to feel nothing. But nothing is farther from the truth. For the ascetic position is one of the highest fear, the gravest immobility. The severe abstinence of the ascetic becomes the ruling obsession.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  All the sanguinary tyrants that ever occupied a throne; the inquisitors who had the heretics tortured, roasted, and butchered; all the woman whom the pages of history have recorded as lustful, beautiful, and violent women like Libussa, Lucretia Borgia, Agnes of Hungary, Queen Margot, Isabeau, the Sultana Roxolane, the Russian Czarinas of last century—all these I saw in furs or in robes bordered with ermine.” “And so furs now rouse strange imaginings in you,” said Wanda, and simultaneously she began to drape her magnificent fur-cloak coquettishly about her, so that the dark shining sable played beautifully around her bust and arms. “Well, how do you feel now, half broken on the wheel?” Her piercing green eyes rested on me with a peculiar mocking satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I flung myself down before her, and threw my arms about her. “Yes—you have awakened my dearest dream,” I cried. “It has slept long enough.” “And this is?” She put her hand on my neck. I was seized with a sweet intoxication under the influence of this warm little hand and of her regard, which, tenderly searching, fell upon me through her half-closed lids. “To be the slave of a woman, a beautiful woman, whom I love, whom I worship.” “And who on that account maltreats you,” interrupted Wanda, laughing. “Yes, who fetters me and whips me, treads me underfoot, the while she gives herself to another.” “And who in her wantonness will go so far as to make a present of you to your successful rival when driven insane by jealousy you must meet him face to face, who will turn you over to his absolute mercy. Why not? This final tableau doesn’t please you so well?” I looked at Wanda frightened. “You surpass my dreams.” “Yes, we women are inventive,” she said, “take heed, when you find your ideal, it might easily happen, that she will treat you more cruelly than you anticipate.” “I am afraid that I have already found my ideal!” I exclaimed, burying my burning face in her lap. “Not I?” exclaimed Wanda, throwing off her furs and moving about the room laughing. She was still laughing as I went downstairs, and when I stood musing in the yard, I still heard her peals of laughter above. * * * * * “Do you really then expect me to embody your ideal?” Wanda asked archly, when we met in the park to-day. At first I could find no answer.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  She contracted her forehead. “Ah! You are afraid already, or perhaps you regret, but it is too late now. You have sworn, I have your word of honor. But let me hear them.” “First of all I should like to have it included in our contract, that you will never completely leave me, and then that you will never give me over to the mercies of any of your admirers—” “But Severin,” exclaimed Wanda with her voice full of emotion and with tears in her eyes, “how can you imagine that I—and you, a man who loves me so absolutely, who puts himself so entirely in my power—” She halted. “No, no!” I said, covering her hands with kisses. “I don’t fear anything from you that might dishonor me. Forgive me the ugly thought.” Wanda smiled happily, leaned her cheek against mine, and seemed to reflect. “You have forgotten something,” she whispered coquettishly, “the most important thing!” “A condition?” “Yes, that I must always wear my furs,” exclaimed Wanda. “But I promise you I’ll do that anyhow because they give me a despotic feeling. And I shall be very cruel to you, do you understand?” “Shall I sign the contract?” I asked. “Not yet,” said Wanda. “I shall first add your conditions, and the actual signing won’t occur until the proper time and place.” “In Constantinople?” “No. I have thought things over. What special value would there be in owning a slave where everyone owns slaves. What I want is to have a slave, I alone, here in our civilized sober, Philistine world, and a slave who submits helplessly to my power solely on account of my beauty and personality, not because of law, of property rights, or compulsions. This attracts me. But at any rate we will go to a country where we are not known and where you can appear before the world as my servant without embarrassment. Perhaps to Italy, to Rome or Naples.” * * * * * We were sitting on Wanda’s ottoman. She wore her ermine jacket, her hair was loose and fell like a lion’s mane down her back. She clung to my lips, drawing my soul from my body. My head whirled, my blood began to seethe, my heart beat violently against hers. “I want to be absolutely in your power, Wanda,” I exclaimed suddenly, seized by that frenzy of passion when I can scarcely think clearly or decide freely. “I want to put myself absolutely at your mercy for good or evil without any condition, without any limit to your power.” While saying this I had slipped from the ottoman, and lay at her feet looking up at her with drunken eyes. “How beautiful you now are,” she exclaimed, “your eyes half-broken in ecstacy fill me with joy, carry me away. How wonderful your look would be if you were being beaten to death, in the extreme agony.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  One day that we had dined at an acquaintance over the way, together with a gentlewoman-lodger that occupied the first floor of our house, there started an indispensable necessity for my mother’s going down to Greenwich to accompany her: the party was settled, when I do not know what genius whispered me to plead a headache, which I certainly had not, against my being included in a jaunt that I had not the least relish for. The pretext, however, passed, and my mother, with much reluctance, prevailed with herself to go without me; but took particular care to see me safe home, where she consigned me into the hands of an old trusty maidservants, who served in the shop, for we had not a male creature in the house. “As soon as she was gone, I told the maid I would go up and lie down on our lodger’s bed, mine not being made, with a charge to her at the same time not to disturb me, as it was only rest I wanted. This injunction probably proved of eminent service to me. As soon as I was got into the bedchamber, I unlaced my stays, and threw myself on the outside of the bedclothes, in all the loosest undress.

• From How to Be a Great Lover (1999)

  Getting in SyncAt no other time is there more intention while kissing than during a romantic prelude. The key, as we discussed in Chapter 2, is to make that intention yours. Kissing is the beginning, middle, and end of incredible lovemaking. For that reason, its power should never be underestimated. If you and your lover are not connected to one another’s kisses, there will always be limits to your passion. In order for your sexual spirits to be set free, it is absolutely essential that you kiss and be kissed in a manner that creates heat. An advertising executive from Chicago put it this way: “My boyfriend is a hot, hot kisser. A few minutes of that and I am ready. When he’s on top of me and deeply inside, I feel his breath, his hot chest, and we’re kissing—I feel loved, lusted for, and safe.” Kissing, like so many elements of romance, is subjective. What one person likes isn’t necessarily going to have the same effect on somebody else. That’s very often the root of the trouble. A kiss that may have driven a previous lover crazy with desire could be turning your current lover off completely. It isn’t that he doesn’t like to kiss, he just may not like to be kissed that way. Obviously, the same applies to you. If his kisses are turning you off, or leaving you less than turned on, it’s a problem. The solution, however, is not as difficult as it seems. What doesn’t work is to tell him his kisses don’t do it for you. Need I mention the fragility of the male ego? What also doesn’t work is to say and do nothing about the problem. If you don’t let him know you need something different, he’s not likely to give it to you. Secret from Lou’s Archives The most important thing you can do for your lips is to keep them soft and clean. A makeup artist I know recommends eye cream, as it absorbs better than regular lip salve. SHOW HIM HOW The way to address the so-called “kissing problem” is to show him how you like to be kissed. By following these four steps, you could have your perfect kiss as early as tonight: 1. Tell him how much you love to kiss. 2. Kiss him the way you love to be kissed so he knows exactly what that feels like. 3. Stop, pull back, and say to him, “Will you show me how it feels to be kissed by me?” 4. If he kisses you right, make sure he knows how much you enjoyed it and show him how very stimulated you feel. Men tend not to forget what gets them results. (If he didn’t do it right, repeat steps 1–3 as many times as necessary.)

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  What is the meaning of the special appeal that multiple-partner fantasies hold for so many men and women? The ubiquitous imagery of two eager women in male pornography undoubtedly reflects and reinforces men’s interest in three-ways. But what about women? Their most popular form of erotica—the romance novel—virtually never includes multiple partners. With rare exceptions, such as when three people fall in love with one another, multiple partners do not easily fit the romantic ideal. Fantasies involving more than one partner typically have a purely lustful quality. Many factors contribute to the popularity of multiple partners—especially three-ways—among The Group’s fantasies. The fantasizer is virtually always the focal point of such scenarios. The role of both partners is to respond to every whim of the fantasizer and in doing so to affirm his or her irresistability. In addition, the fantasizer is always in control, whether he or she chooses to dominate, to submit, or prefers to watch the partners put on a show as they have sex with each other. I believe the most important attraction of three-ways is their ability to amplify whichever characteristics turn the fantasizer on. Typically, both partners are of the same gender and thus provide a double dose of maleness or femaleness. Consequently, straight women and gay men usually imagine two or more men, whereas straight men and lesbians gravitate toward two women. Not surprisingly, bisexuals sometimes enjoy the presence of both genders, but many prefer to take advantage of the amplification effect by fantasizing about two men or two women, depending on their inclination at the moment. Second only to the popularity of multiple partners in favorite fantasies are very casual or anonymous partners. Among most of the subgroups, regardless of gender, 20 to 24 percent of their favorite fantasies involve sexy strangers or casual, chance meetings. Bisexual men have the most fantasies of anonymous sex (40 percent) and lesbians have the fewest (17 percent). In real-life encounters most women want some link between sex and feelings of emotional connection, as compared with a significant number of men who do not necessarily require or even want such a connection. However, this distinction almost completely disappears in fantasy. It is a dramatic reminder that in the realm of the erotic imagination we are frequently exempt from the values and preferences that guide our actual behavior. In only 12 percent of cases does The Group select fantasy partners with whom they have any real involvement beyond their fantasies, whether as dates, boyfriends or girlfriends, or primary partners. Women, however, are more likely than men to fantasize about partners with whom they’re involved (14 percent and 9 percent respectively). An even greater gender difference appears in regard to being infatuated or in love with their fantasy partners. Women mention feelings of love more than three times more frequently than men (14 percent and 4 percent respectively). And once again, lesbians are the most likely (17 percent) to mention loving their fantasy partners.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Like most aspects of erotic life, lusty objectification isn’t so simple. At its best it is an effective source of validation and approval. Having a desired partner perceive you as the object of desire can be flattering and exhilarating. Both men and women—although by no means all—crave opportunities to be responded to as sex objects, and more than a few bemoan the fact that it happens too rarely. And as a society we spend billions of dollars and untold hours trying to make ourselves attractive sexual objects. To objectify is also to externalize, to recognize the desired one as the other—that is, to see clearly that he or she is outside oneself. This quality of otherness is absolutely essential for attraction. Not only is the object separated from the self, but that person is invested with sufficient value to make him or her worthy of pursuit. One of the most beneficial features of lusty objectification is how it facilitates selective perceptions and idealizations. When you lust after someone, you naturally emphasize the qualities you find most appealing. Because lust focuses exclusively on turn-ons and screens out everything else, it’s an extremely effective attraction booster. Even in an established relationship, in which you know and care for your partner as a whole person, look closely, and you’ll probably notice how selectively attending to particular characteristics helps stir your passions when you’re in a sexy mood. Sonya, a thirty-eight-year-old member of The Group, describes how her fantasy life revolves around lusty objectification: I hardly ever have complete fantasy stories like the ones in books. When I want to get hot I just imagine a beautiful set of male buns. I love to scan my eyes from the wide, muscular shoulders, down the v-shaped back, to that sloping transition from back to butt. The very top of the crack thrills me, especially when I catch a glimpse of it at the beach when a hot guy is wearing a skimpy swim suit. A gorgeous set of buns calls out to be caressed by my eyes or fingers. I go nuts over ones with dimple indentations on the sides. At the moment I can’t get enough of my boyfriend’s buns. Like him, they’re perfect! I’m always grabbing him there which he seems to like. When I’m alone and horny I just think of him slowly peeling off his shorts while I watch from behind. Whereas men have always readily described themselves as “tit men,” “leg men,” or the like, only recently have women, like Sonya, allowed themselves to admit to having a focused appreciation for specific physical attributes.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  Even as I come across pages of Knotted and hand them to Isaac, it is the nameless book that catches my attention. Each page has a line that pulls at my eyes. I read them, re-read them. No one I know writes this way, yet it is so familiar. I feel a lust for this author’s words. A jealousy at being able to string such rich sentences together. The first line keeps coming back to me with each subsequent line I read. The punishment for her peace was upon him, and he gave her rest. I don’t notice when Isaac disappears from the room to make us food. I smell it when he comes back and hands me a bowl of soup. I set it aside, intent on finishing my work, but he picks it up and places it back in my hands. “Eat it,” he instructs me. I don’t realize how hungry I am until I reluctantly place the spoon in my mouth, sucking the salty brown broth. I set the spoon aside and drink from the bowl, my eyes still scanning the piles set neatly around me. My leg is aching, as is my back, but I don’t want to stop. If I ask Isaac to help me move he will guess at my discomfort and force me to rest. I rub the small of my back when he’s not looking, and press on. “I know what you’re doing,” he says, as he leans over his pile of pages. I look up in surprise. “What?” “When you think I’m not looking, I am.” I flush, and my hand automatically reaches for my aching muscles. I pull back at the last minute and curl my hand into a fist instead. Isaac snickers and shakes his head, turning back to his work. I’m glad he doesn’t press the issue. I pick up another page. It’s my own. The story I wrote for Nick. Instead of putting it on its pile, I read it. True and trite. It was my call to him. The first line of the book went like this: Every time you want to remember what love feels like, you look for me. That line grabbed every woman who had ever offered their throbbing little heart to a man. Because we all have someone who reminds us of what love stings like. That unreliquished love that slips between our fingers like sand. The second line of the book confused them a little. It’s why their eyes kept following my trail of words. I was dropping breadcrumbs for the disaster that was to come. Stay the fuck away from me.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  *Lead-in (Morin):* Jana’s curiosity about which encounters to list reveals a thread she hadn’t seen—being pursued. **Voice — Jana:** I had trouble picking just two exciting encounters so I made a list of them all. It dawned on me that in virtually every case I’m being aggressively pursued by a handsome and determined man. My role is to act rather coy and passive, as if I want them to prove their interest in me through sheer persistence. I had never seen this so clearly before because I’m usually obsessed with how handsome the man is or how big or strong. I’ve never stopped to question what I’m feeling. But once I saw my taste for being pursued I couldn’t stop thinking about it and even brought the subject up with my therapist. I remember the desire to be pursued in sexual fantasies as far back as age eight or nine, maybe before. I use feminine poses to attract a rich and famous man. But because I’m so shy and reserved he’s “forced” to seduce me. Once I surrender he whisks me away on his yacht or horse and I feel chosen and very special. In all my fantasies today, and my best encounters too, I feel exactly the same way. The imperative of feeling desirable stands out for me because in reality I’ve never seen myself as attractive. On the contrary, I’ve always wished I were as pretty and sophisticated as my older sister. She got all the attention from guys, teachers—everyone. I was an awkward “tomboy” and I believed my parents liked her better. I remember crying myself to sleep over my fate. Now I know intellectually that I’m not ugly, but I still think of myself that way. I’m always trying to fix this by getting men to want me. If I surrender too quickly it’s not nearly so exciting as when I get the full seduction treatment. It makes me feel feminine and beguiling to be chased. I imagine they can’t resist me. Now that I live with a wonderful man I’m still always waiting for him to initiate sex (which he complains about a lot). It’s hard to admit, but when he comes on to me forcefully it’s almost like getting even with my sister who I both loved and hated for being so damned perfect. When it all works—which it always does in fantasy and occasionally in reality—I’m getting the attention I’ve craved all my life.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  My vicious PLN army/gang, I love you! Sundae Coletti, Jennifer Stiltner, Robin Stranahan, Dyann Tufts, Robin Segnitz, Amy Holloway, Krystle Zion, Sandra Cortez, Nelly Martinez de Iraheta, Monica Martinez, Sarah Kaiser, Chelsea Peden McCrory, Dawnita Kiefer, Miranda Howard, Courtney Mazal, Yoss, Kristin McNally, Tre Hathaway, Shelly Ford, Maribel Zamora, Maria Milano, Fizza Hussain, Brooke Higgins, Paula Roper, Joanna Hoffman Dursi, Marivett Villafane, Amy Miller Sayler, and my favorite Kristy Garner. I wish I could list you all. Since publishing my first book, I have met so many people who made me view the world differently. There is none more rare and precious than Colleen Hoover. She is a light shining in darkness. Thank you for loving Mud Vein, and for recognizing our red thread. You have no heart, and you have the biggest heart. And finally, to the God who says: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” I live for you, mud vein and all. [image file=image0_1.jpg] I packed, drove, and showered quickly so I could make the morning meeting on time. I wondered if April would be there now that she seemed close to being brought on as a full-time teacher. Hopefully she would be. I’d have to decide whether to sit next to her and breathe in her intoxicating floral scent or if I wanted to sit on the opposite side of the room so I could simply look. Or stare. Let’s face it—I would probably stare. The room was half-full when I arrived with five minutes to spare. A few of the teachers looked up when I came in. Their faces registered surprise, clearly not expecting to see me back so soon. I got a few nods in my direction, but no one spoke. Teachers aren’t usually morning people unless they’ve had their cup or two or six of coffee. Their silence made it evident that the liquid brown drug was not yet coursing through their bodies. Or that seeing me was a little awkward, considering the state I was in when they last saw me. I tugged on the collar of my shirt and ducked my head. April was seated on the second row and seemed to be lost in a pile of paper on her lap. She was wearing a long-sleeve white button-up shirt, with the sleeves folded halfway up her forearm. Her skirt was black, and her hair was back in a ponytail. Her outfit brought to mind just about every teacher fantasy I had ever allowed myself to indulge in while growing up. Because her hair was pulled back, the pearly white skin of her neck was exposed. God, I was starting to have serious vampire thoughts. I will kiss that neck, I told myself. More than once. I will.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  Nick looks confused, then it comes. He sees his replacement, the guy locked in a house with his ex-muse. “The doctor?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “Isaac. His name is Isaac.” “I’m your soulmate. I wrote that book for you.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself, bobbing Adam’s apple and all. “You don’t know the first thing about what it is to have a soulmate.” I feel such a pull toward Isaac I wonder if he’s having this same fight with Daphne. “It’s time for you to leave,” I say. It feels so good to say it. Because this time, I’m not even going to cry. [image file=image44.jpg] Before I shower, before I eat, before I crawl into bed and sleep off my fourteen-month nightmare, I call a cab. I have him pull into my garage, then I stand next to his window and check him out. Small guy, early twenties, bald by choice. I can see the shadows of where his hair should be. He’s fighting that receding hairline with a shaved head. Defiant and a little ballsy, because we can all see why he’s doing it. His eyes are wide and shifty; either the news vans freaked him out, or he’s having withdrawals. He’ll do, I think. I climb into the front seat. “Do you mind?” I ask. But I don’t really care if he says no. I buckle my seatbelt. “Take me to one of those stores with the lumber and the tools.” He spits out a couple options and I shrug. “Whatever.” We pull past the news vans and I smile at them. I don’t know why except that it’s kind of funny. I used to be famous for my books, now I’m famous for something else. It kind of constipates your mind; being famous for something that someone else did to you. I make my cabbie wait while I run into the home fix-it store he chose. The building is expansive. I walk quickly past the lighting and the doorknobs until I find what I am looking for. I am there for thirty-five minutes while two employees see to my order. I have no purse or credit cards, just the wad of hundred dollar bills I shoved into my back pocket before I left the house. I kept them in an old cookie tin in my pantry for one day; a rainy day, a needy day, a day I just felt like blowing a wad of cash. Now there were only a few days left, so I figured it was time to spend. I toss three of the bills at the cashier and wheel my purchases out to the cab. I won’t let him help me. I stack everything in the trunk, and climb back into the front seat.

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  1 . 3 1) . Lock e thinks of desire as a kind o f uneasiness. "All pain of the b od y, of w hat sort soever, and disq u i et of the mind, is uneasiness" (ibid.). D e s i r e for so methin g is then seen as a spec i es of this genus. It is an uneasiness a r o u s e d , by the absence of some good. B ut not all things which are good for u s p ro vo ke unea siness i n their absence, not ev en all the things which we know ar e g o od for us. The greate r good in view doesn't always move us. If it did, ar g u e s L ock e, we wo uld clea r l y spend the greater part o f our efforts ensuring o u r e t ern al salvati on (2..2.1 .38 ) . W hat must happen f or a good t o motivate us is that it must come to a � o u s e a n u neasi ness in u s. It mo ves us only through its connection with this disqu i e t . "G ood and evil, pres ent and absent, i t i s true, work upon the mind. B u t t h at w hich immediate l y d eter mi nes the will, from time to time, to every x70 • INWARDNESS voluntary action, is the uneasiness of desire" (2..2.1.33, emphasis in orig in a l) . Locke characteristically shows how lhis must be so by in voking a qu a si mech anical argument: "Another reason why it is uneasiness alone determi n e s the will, is this: because it alone is present and, it i s agains t the natu r e of t hings that what is absent should operate where it is not" (2..2.1.37). H i s t heory is grounded on the well-known mechanical principle excluding acti o n at a distance. Thus Locke carries disengagement to unprecedented lengths: even o u r motivated action to what brings us pleasure is not ro ck bottom in the o rd e r of assembly. It has to aris e through a c onnection bein g established with an inner state, which is itsel f without any intrinsic object. We see the re m o t e origins .of modem reductiv e psychology and the theory of reinforc emen t. Where twentieth-century psychologists speak of 'habits', Locke speaks of th e association that each of us makes betwee n inner unease an d certain g oods a s our 'relish' (2..21.5 6 ). Thi s can be and has been the basis of a purely determinist the o ry o f motivation, which sees people as invariabl y impelled by their strongest desires.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  He kisses me. Hard at first—like he’s angry—but when I touch his face he softens. It’s when his lips drag slowly across mine, his tongue darting in and out of my mouth that I relax. My legs lift off of the table and my feet cradle his waist. Heat; heat on the arches of my feet, heat on my mouth, heat pressed between my legs. He reaches down and pulls my robe open all the way. I lift my arms out of the robe and wrap them around him. Then he rolls me until I’m on top of him. I sit up and he lifts me at the waist until I’m hovering above his erection. He’s right there; the tip is touching me. All I have to do is push down and he will be inside of me. And I want him to be. Because I need to touch and be touched. But Isaac is hesitating. He doesn’t want to let go of my waist. He’s thinking of his wife; I’m thinking of his wife. I’m about to tell him, forget it, when he abruptly releases his hold on my waist. Without him suspending me, and with no warning I slide onto him. I suck air loudly. It’s a gasp if I’ve ever heard one. One minute I’m empty, the next I’m full. A deep, slow panic. He does not belong to me. What am I doing? I try to climb off him, but he grabs my wrists and rolls on top of me, pinning me down. He kisses me slowly with both hands pressed against the sides of my face, all the while moving slowly in and out of me. “I want to be with you,” he says into my mouth. “Stop it.” So I stop it. I let him kiss and stroke and touch and I don’t fight him. We’ve only had sex once; in the rain, on the carousel, with me on top. Now, it doesn’t feel so much like sex. It feels intimate. I’ve never done what we are doing. Not with anyone. Not even with Nick. I’ve never laced my hands in a man’s hair and breathed into his mouth with abandon, and wanted him to be as deeply inside of me as he could—because it felt more real that way. And a man has never buried his face into my neck and moaned, like every movement inside of me is worth a reaction.

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  Certain of the things Baudelaire says make it sound familia r enough. Behind the fallen natural world stands a spiritual world, an d art can bring this to epiphany. Nature is ugly, but the imagination of th e artist allows him "de saisir les parcelles du beau egarees sur la terre, de suivre le beau a l a piste partout ou ii a p u glisser a travers les trivialites de la nature dechue" ("t o seize upon the bits of beauty sca tt ered about the earth, to follow beauty's trail wherever it has managed to slip in admist the trivialities of fallen nature"). 47 Baudelaire often refers to this spiritual world whose fragments the artist thus g athe rs in the traditional terms of Renaissance n eo -Platonism, in terms o f 'correspondences', as though things had a spiritual significance which linked them in chains of equivalence: La Nature est un temple ou de vivan t s piliers Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles; L'homme y passe a travers des for-ets de sy m boles Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers. Nature is a temple whose living colonnades Breathe fort h a mystic s p eech in fitfu l sighs; Man wanders among symbo ls in those glades Where all things w a tch him with familiar eyes. 4 8 Visions of the Post-Romantic Age · 437 Bu t other things that Baudelaire says, and much of his poetry, don't fit very well with this picture of the poet g athering shards and hints of s upernatural beauty. There are q uite o ther k ind s of epiphany , in which we are thrown he a dlong into evil and ugliness and decay. In part this reflects Baudelaire's ambivalent stance towards the Manic h aean universe he sees: Sat anism, to plu n ge into evil to the point of intoxication, of releasing a "f risson galvanique", seems as valid a response a s askesis-perhaps even an alternative route to the same goal. What must be avoided at all cost s is banality and the dead, inert time of ordinary ugliness . II faut toujours etre ivre. Tout est l a: c'est l'unique question. Pour ne pas sentir ('horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos epaules et vous penche vers la ter re , ii faut vous enivrer sans tre v e. Mais de quoi? De vin, de p oesie ou de venu, a votre guise. Mais enivrez-vous. One should alway be drunk. Thaf s the great thing; the only question. Not to f eel the horrible burden of Time weighing o n your shoulders and bowing you to the eanh, you should be drunk without respite. Drunk with w hat? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  INTERACTIONS OF LIMERENCE AND LUSTAlthough it’s obvious that sex can and does exist without love and that lust often cares nothing about romance, it’s not so easy to assert that romance can exist without sex. Although it is relatively rare, some limerent attachments are never consummated in overt sexual behavior. In some cases the emotional risks of romance are so enormous that fear disrupts the physiological mechanisms of arousal or orgasm. Some emotionally intense relationships—most common among women but occasionally seen in male friendships too—have all of the hallmarks of limerence except no apparent sexual desire. Aside from such situations, however, the limerent object is almost always seen as at least a potential sexual partner. But because limerent attractions seek much more than physical gratification, they often pull the desirer in unexpected directions. I’ve known of several instances in which a person fell in love with someone of the “wrong” sex—that is, not the gender the person normally found erotically appealing.10 Most commonly, however, the lure of the limerent attraction involves a steamy matching of lusty desire with a profound need for emotional attachment. ENTER THE OBSTACLESStrong attractions, whether lusty or romantic or both, are difficult or impossible to ignore. By its nature, attraction is a primary sexual activator. But the erotic equation tells us that we will have a far stronger response to our attractions if they are made more difficult, challenging, or uncertain by having one or more obstacles to overcome. Some arousal-enhancing obstacles work their magic by blocking access to the object of desire—either before or during a sexual interaction. Notice how multiple obstacles between Grace, a middle-aged divorcee, and her younger lover accentuate their desire and launch them into an incredibly sensuous exchange: I had just come out of a very bad marriage and had sworn off guys. Then I met a wonderful man six years my junior. He was very attractive but I was afraid to have sex with him. He seemed so young and I so jaded. And besides, neither of us had enough privacy. One night after we had gone out to dinner, we came back to my apartment (which I had to myself for a change!) and we did some heavy petting. I began to let my guard down. He was so sweet; he kept saying that he loved me and wanted to show me how much if I’d let him. He said that he didn’t have to go home and we could spend the whole weekend together.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  *Lead-in (Morin):* A deep reluctance joins longing—Joyce hadn’t seen her husband in months. **Voice — Joyce:** He called me at work to say he needed to see me. I was hesitant because in the past these encounters have led to either fights or outrageous sex. At the time I didn’t want either from him. Yet he was very persuasive so I agreed to meet him in spite of my better judgment. From the moment I saw him, it was like the beginning of our relationship all over again. Sexual sparks were flying everywhere. He knew the right places to touch me and the perfect words to say. And he used all his tricks until I was like jelly. Incredible! *Wind-down (Morin):* Joyce’s explosive encounter ends with ambivalence consumed—in one burst, desire wins.