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.

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• From The Annotated Lolita (1991)

  Borges in “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote ,” an essential text on the subject ( Labyrinths , p. 44); and cinematic equivalents are readily available in the work of the directors who reintroduced silent film techniques (notably François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, and Richard Lester) in the 1950s and 1960s. 31 The pun is also pointed out by Page Stegner in Escape into Aesthetics: The Art of Vladimir Nabokov (New York, 1966), p. 104. 32 Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (Boston, 1955 [1st ed. 1944]), p. 11. An excellent introduction to Nabokov, even if he is not mentioned. 33 This aspect of Lolita is nicely visualized in Tenniel’s drawing of a landscaped chessboard (or chessbored landscape) for Chapter Two of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass , in which a chess game is literally woven into the narrative. For more on Carroll and Nabokov, see Note A breeze from wonderland . 34 Mary McCarthy, “Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire,” Encounter , XIX (October 1962), p. 76. 1 It was then that began our extensive travels all over the States. To any other type of tourist accommodation I soon grew to prefer the Functional Motel—clean, neat, safe nooks, ideal places for sleep, argument, reconciliation, insatiable illicit love. At first, in my dread of arousing suspicion, I would eagerly pay for both sections of one double unit, each containing a double bed. I wondered what type of foursome this arrangement was ever intended for, since only a pharisaic parody of privacy could be attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twinbed cabin, a prison cell of paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know— nous connûmes , to use a Flaubertian intonation—the stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco court, on what the Tour Book of the Automobile Association describes as “shaded” or “spacious” or “landscaped” grounds. The log kind, finished in knotty pine, reminded Lo, by its golden-brown glaze, of fried-chicken bones. We held in contempt the plain whitewashed clapboard Kabins, with their faint sewerish smell or some other gloomy self-conscious stench and nothing to boast of (except “good beds”), and an unsmiling landlady always prepared to have her gift (“… well, I could give you …”) turned down.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  was actually quite masculine drew both men and women to him. that his Blancheflor was his enemy he faltered and A potent variation on this theme is the blending of physical heat and sought to escape: but at emotional coldness. Dandies like Beau Brummel and Andy Warhol com-once came hope, bringing bine striking physical appearances with a kind of coldness of manner, a dis-him her love, and a fond tance from everything and everyone. They are both enticing and elusive, aspiration, and so perforce he remained. In the face of and people spend lifetimes chasing after such men, trying to shatter their such discord he did not unattainability. (The power of apparently unattainable people is devilishly know where to turn: no-seductive; we want to be the one to break them down.) They also wrap where could he go forward. The more he strove to flee, themselves in ambiguity and mystery, either talking very little or talking the more firmly love forced only of surface matters, hinting at a depth of character you can never reach. him back. The harder he When Marlene Dietrich entered a room, or arrived at a party, all eyes in-struggled to escape, love drew him back more firmly. evitably turned to her. First there were her startling clothes, chosen to make heads turn. Then there was her air of nonchalant indifference. Men, and — G O T T F R I E D VON STRASSBURG, TRISTAN, TRANSLATED BY A . T . women too, became obsessed with her, thinking of her long after other HATTO memories of the evening had faded. Remember: that first impression, that Send Mixed Signals • 193 entrance, is critical. To show too much desire for attention is to signal insecurity, and will often drive people away; play it too cold and disinterested, on the other hand, and no one will bother coming near. The trick is to combine the two attitudes at the same moment. It is the essence of coquetry. Perhaps you have a reputation for a particular quality, which immediately comes to mind when people see you. You will better hold their attention by suggesting that behind this reputation some other quality lies lurking. No one had a darker, more sinful reputation than Lord Byron.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  talked the matter over presenting yourself as a masculine woman or a feminine man. For others between themselves, they at you play the Lolita, or the daddd—someone they are not supposed to have, first decided to report the the dark side of their personality. Keep the connection vague—you want pair to the abbess. But then them to reach for something elusive, something that comes out of their they changed their minds, and by common agreement own mind. with the other two, they In London in 1769, Casanova met a young woman named Charpillon. took up shares in Masetto 's She was much younger than he, as beautiful a woman as he had ever holding. And because of various indiscretions, these known, and with a reputation for destroying men. In one of their first enfive were subsequently counters she told him straight out that he would fall for her and she would joined by the remaining ruin him. To everyone's disbelief, Casanova pursued her. In each encounter three, one after the other. • Finally, the abbess, who she hinted she might give in—perhaps the next time, if he was nice to her. was still unaware of all She inflamed his curiosity—what pleasure she would yield; he would be this, was taking a stroll one the first, he would tame her. "The venom of desire penetrated my whole very hot day in the garden, all by herself when she being so completely," he later wrote, "that had she so wished it, she could came across Masetto have despoiled me of everything I possessed. I would have beggared myself stretched out fast asleep in for one little kiss." This "affair" indeed proved his ruin; she humiliated him. the shade of an almond Charpillon had rightly gauged that Casanova's primary weakness was his Create Temptation • 237 need for conquest, to overcome challenge, to taste what no other man had tree. Too much riding by tasted. Beneath this was a kind of masochism, a pleasure in the pain a night had left him with very little strength for the woman could give him. Playing the impossible woman, enticing and then day's labors, and so there frustrating him, she offered the ultimate temptation. What will often do the he lay, with his clothes trick is to give the target the sense that you are a challenge, a prize to be ruffled up in front by the won. In possessing you they will get what no other has had. They may even wind, leaving him all exposed. Finding herself get pain; but pain is close to pleasure, and offers its own temptations. alone, the lady stood with In the Old Testament we read that "David arose from his couch and her eyes riveted to this was walking upon the roof of the king's house . . . [and] he saw from the spectacle, and she was seized by the same craving

• From The Annotated Lolita (1991)

  I learned, however, what they looked like, those lovely, maddening, thin-armed nymphets, when they grew up. I remember walking along an animated street on a gray spring afternoon somewhere near the Madeleine. A short slim girl passed me at a rapid, high-heeled, tripping step, we glanced back at the same moment, she stopped and I accosted her. She came hardly up to my chest hair and had the kind of dimpled round little face French girls so often have, and I liked her long lashes and tight-fitting tailored dress sheathing in pearl-gray her young body which still retained—and that was the nymphic echo, the chill of delight, the leap in my loins—a childish something mingling with the professional frétillement of her small agile rump. I asked her price, and she promptly replied with melodious silvery precision (a bird, a very bird!) “Cent.” I tried to haggle but she saw the awful lone longing in my lowered eyes, directed so far down at her round forehead and rudimentary hat (a band, a posy); and with one beat of her lashes: “Tant pis,” she said, and made as if to move away. Perhaps only three years earlier I might have seen her coming home from school! That evocation settled the matter. She led me up the usual steep stairs, with the usual bell clearing the way for the monsieur who might not care to meet another monsieur, on the mournful climb to the abject room, all bed and bidet. As usual, she asked at once for her petit cadeau, and as usual I asked her name (Monique) and her age (eighteen). I was pretty well acquainted with the banal way of streetwalkers. They all answer “dix-huit”—a trim twitter, a note of finality and wistful deceit which they emit up to ten times per day, the poor little creatures. But in Monique’s case there could be no doubt she was, if anything, adding one or two years to her age. This I deduced from many details of her compact, neat, curiously immature body. Having shed her clothes with fascinating rapidity, she stood for a moment partly wrapped in the dingy gauze of the window curtain listening with infantile pleasure, as pat as pat could be, to an organ-grinder in the dust-brimming courtyard below. When I examined her small hands and drew her attention to their grubby fingernails, she said with a naïve frown “Oui, ce n’est pas bien,” and went to the washbasin, but I said it did not matter, did not matter at all. With her brown bobbed hair, luminous gray eyes and pale skin, she looked perfectly charming. Her hips were no bigger than those of a squatting lad; in fact, I do not hesitate to say (and indeed this is the reason why I linger gratefully in that gauze-gray room of memory with little Monique) that among the eighty or so grues I had had operate upon me, she was the only one that gave me a pang of genuine pleasure. “Il était malin, celui qui a inventé ce truc-là,” she commented amiably, and got back into her clothes with the same high-style speed.

• From My Year of Rest and Relaxation (2018)

  Still, a romantic urge surfaced now and then with Trevor, a recurring ex-boyfriend, my first and only. I was only eighteen, a freshman, when I met him at a Halloween party in a loft near Battery Park. I went with a dozen girls from the sorority I was rushing. Like most Halloween costumes, mine was an excuse to go around town dressed like a whore. I went as Detective Rizzoli, Whoopi Goldberg’s character in Fatal Beauty. In the first scene of the movie, she’s undercover and disguised as a hooker, so to copy her, I’d teased out my hair, wore a tight dress, high heels, gold lamé jacket, and white cat-eye sunglasses. Trevor had on an Andy Warhol costume: blond bobbed wig, thick black glasses, tight striped shirt. My first impression of him was that he was free spirited, clever, funny. That proved to be completely inaccurate. We left the party together and walked around for hours, lied to each other about our happy lives, ate pizza at midnight, took the Staten Island Ferry back and forth and watched the sun rise. I gave him my phone number at the dorm. By the time he finally called me, two weeks later, I’d become obsessed with him. He kept me on a long, tight leash for months—expensive meals, the occasional opera or ballet. He took my virginity at a ski lodge in Vermont on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience, but I trusted he knew more about sex than I did, so when he rolled off and said, “That was amazing,” I believed him. He was thirty-three, worked for Fuji Bank at the World Trade Center, wore tailored suits, sent cars to pick me up at my dorm, then the sorority house sophomore year, wined and dined me, and asked for head with no shame in the back of cabs he charged to the company account. I took this as proof of his masculine value. My “sisters” all agreed; he was “suave.” And I was impressed by how much he liked talking about his emotions, something I’d never seen a man do. “My mom’s a pothead now, and that’s why I have this deep sadness.” He took frequent trips to Tokyo for work and to San Francisco to visit his twin sister. I suspected she discouraged him from dating me.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  "You don't realize what a great advantage it is. To be taught to feel such pleasure is very difficult, and far more humiliating. And your passion gives a bloom to you that cannot be achieved otherwise." Beauty cried softly. The little plaster between her legs made her all the more conscious of her feelings there. Yet Leon's hands and voice were soothing her. Finally he told her she must lie down in the bath and he must wash her long beautiful hair for her. She let the warm water close over her and thought for a moment that she was covered by it and that felt extremely good to her. As soon as she had been rinsed and dried, Beauty was put down on one of the beds nearby, and arranged on her face so that Leon could rub an aromatic oil into her skin. It felt delicious to her. "Now, surely," he said as he was massaging her shoulders, "there must be questions that you should like to ask me. You may do that if you like. It is not good for you to be confused about things unnecessarily. There is enough for you to fear without fears that are imaginary." "I may...talk to you then?" Beauty asked. "Yes," he said. "I'm your groom. In a way, I belong to you. Each slave, no matter how he or she ranks or pleases or displeases, has a groom, and that groom is devoted to that slave, to that slave's needs and wishes, as well as preparing the slave for the master. Now, of course, there will be times when I shall have to punish you, not because I take pleasure in it, though I can't imagine punishing a more beautiful slave than you, but because your master may order it. He may order you punished for disobedience, or merely readied for him with some blows. But I will be doing it only because I have to..." "But do you...do you take pleasure in it?" Beauty asked timidly. "It is difficult to resist beauty such as yours," he said, rubbing the oil into the backs of her arms and into the crevices of her elbows. "But I should much rather groom you and care for you." He put down the oil and gave her hair another brisk rub with the towel, adjusting the pillow under her face. It felt so good to be lying here, with his hands working on her. "But as I was saying before, you may ask me questions when I give you leave. Remember, when I give you leave, and I have just given it." "I don't know what to ask," she whispered. "There is so much to ask..." "Well, surely you must know already that all punishments here are for the pleasure of your masters and mistresses..." "Yes." "And that nothing shall ever be done which truly harms you.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  She felt almost as if Lady Juliana were on her side, though she had little doubt that she would now be punished by her. Lady Juliana's paddle had been too diligent on the Bridle Path for Beauty to have any doubt of that. Yet she felt almost as if this were a girlhood friend of great confidence and strength, coming to embrace her. Lady Juliana was beaming at her. "Ah, Beauty, sweet Beauty, is the Queen pleased?" And as she stroked Beauty's hair and pushed her back to sit on her heels, Lady Juliana glanced at the Queen politely. "She is all that you said she would be," answered the Queen. "But I wish to see more of her to judge properly. Use your imagination, lovely one. Do as you please, for me." At once Lady Juliana motioned to the Page. He opened the door to admit yet another young man who carried a great flower basket filled with pink roses. Lady Juliana took the basket over her arm, and the two Pages retired to the shadows. They stood as still as guards, and Beauty wondered that their presence meant so little to her. For all she cared, there might have been a row of them there. It did not matter. "Look up, precious, with those beautiful blue eyes of yours," said Lady Juliana, "and see what I have prepared to amuse the Queen, and further demonstrate your lovliness." She lifted a rose which had a rather short stem, no more than eight inches. "No thorns, my pet, and this I show you so you fear only what you should fear, and not carelessness or blunders." Beauty could see the basket was heaped with such carefully prepared flowers. The Queen gave a cheerful laugh and shifted in her chair. "Wine, Alexi," she said, "sweet wine, this room is rather permeated with sweetness." Lady Juliana burst into soft laughter as though this were a wonderful compliment, and she danced about the room, twirling her rose-colored skirts, her braids swinging. Beauty watched her in wonder, her vision still unclear from her crying, and the woman seemed, like the Queen, immense and powerful. She turned her smiling face on Beauty like a light. And the glare of the torches flashed in the deep red brooch she wore at her throat, and in the jewels sewn skillfully into her heavy girdle. Her pink satin slippers had silver heels and she danced up to Beauty and kissed the top of her head lovingly. "But you look so forlorn and that is not good.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  roe Joe DiMaggio. But never imagine that these are the only types the on a straight course, lie so Siren can affect. Julius Caesar was a writer and thinker, who had transferred often in unsure havens, pitching and tossing and his intellectual abilities onto the battlefield and into the political arena; the heaving to and fro. Just so, playwright Arthur Miller fell as deeply under Monroe's spell as DiMaggio. in the same way, do The intellectual is often the one most susceptible to the Siren call of pure aimless desire and random love-longing drift like an physical pleasure, because his life so lacks it. The Siren does not have to anchorless ship. This worry about finding the right victim. Her magic works on one and all. charming young princess, First and foremost, a Siren must distinguish herself from other women. discreet and courteous Isolde, drew thoughts from She is by nature a rare thing, mythic, only one to a group; she is also a valu-the hearts that enshrined able prize to be wrested away from other men. Cleopatra made herself dif-them as a lodestone draws ferent through her sense of high drama; the Empress Josephine Bonaparte's in ships to the sound of the device was her extreme languorousness; Marilyn Monroe's was her little-Sirens' song. She sang openly and secretly, in girl quality. Physicality offers the best opportunities here, since a Siren is through ears and eyes to preeminently a sight to behold. A highly feminine and sexual presence, where many a heart was even to the point of caricature, will quickly differentiate you, since most stirred. The song which she sang openly in this and women lack the confidence to project such an image. other places was her own Once the Siren has made herself stand out from others, she must have sweet singing and soft two other critical qualities: the ability to get the male to pursue her so sounding of strings that echoed for all to hear feverishly that he loses control; and a touch of the dangerous. Danger is through the kingdom of the surprisingly seductive. To get the male to pursue you is relatively simple: a ears deep down into the highly sexual presence will do this quite well. But you must not resemble a heart. But her secret song courtesan or whore, whom the male may pursue only to quickly lose interwas her wondrous beauty that stole with its rapturous est in her. Instead, you are slightly elusive and distant, a fantasy come to life. music hidden and unseen During the Renaissance, the great Sirens, such as Tullia d'Aragona, would through the windows of the act and look like Grecian goddesses—the fantasy of the day. Today you eyes into many noble hearts and smoothed on the might model yourself on a film goddess—anything that seems larger than magic which took thoughts life, even awe inspiring. These qualities will make a man chase you vehe-prisoner suddenly, and,

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  literary academy devoted to ideas of freethinking. She called herself a muse Achilles sulks for Briseis— and, as in Rome, a group of young men collected around her. They would \ Quick, Trojans, smash follow her around the city, carving her name in trees, writing sonnets in her through the Argive wall! \ Hector went into battle honor, and singing them to anyone who would listen. from Andromache's One young nobleman was driven to distraction by this cult of adora- embraces \ Helmeted by his tion: it seemed that everyone loved Tullia but no one received her love in wife. \ Agamemnon return. Determined to steal her away and marry her, this young man himself, the Supremo, was struck into raptures \ At tricked her into allowing him to visit her at night. He proclaimed his undy- the sight of Cassandra's ing devotion, showered her with jewels and presents, and asked for her tumbled hair; \ Even Mars hand. She refused. He pulled out a knife, she still refused, and so he stabbed was caught on the job, felt the blacksmith's meshes— himself. He lived, but now Tullia's reputation was even greater than before: \ Heaven's best scandal in not even money could buy her favors, or so it seemed. As the years went years. Then take \ My own by and her beauty faded, some poet or intellectual would always come to case. I was idle, born to leisure en deshabille, \ her defense and protect her. Few of them ever pondered the reality: that Mind softened by lazy Tullia was indeed a courtesan, one of the most popular and well paid in the scribbling in the shade. \ profession. But love for a pretty girl soon drove the sluggard \ To action, made him join up. \And just look at me Interpretation. All of us have defects of some sort. Some of these we are now—f ighting fit, dead born with, and cannot help. Tullia had many such defects. Physically she keen on night exercises: \ If you want a cure for was not the Renaissance ideal. Also, her mother had been a courtesan, and slackness, fall in love! she was illegitimate. Yet the men who fell under her spell did not care. —OVID, THE AMORES, They were too distracted by her image—the image of an elevated woman, TRANSLATED BY PETER GREEN a woman you would have to fight over to win. Her pose came straight out of the Middle Ages, the days of knights and troubadours. Then, a woman, most often married, was able to control the power dynamic between the sexes by withholding her favors until the knight somehow proved his worth 332 • The Art of Seduction and the sincerity of his sentiments. He could be sent on a quest, or made to live among lepers, or compete in a possibly fatal joust for her honor.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  At the soiree he felt totally out of his element. All of the city's great surrender, she let herself be writers and wits were there, as well as the few of the nobility who had conquered. Had she been more tender, more survived—Josephine herself was a vicomtesse, and had narrowly escaped attentive, more loving, the guillotine. The women were dazzling, some of them more beautiful perhaps Bonaparte would than the hostess, but all the men congregated around Josephine, drawn by have loved her less. her graceful presence and queenly manner. Several times she left the men —IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND, QUOTED IN THE EMPRESS behind and went to Napoleon's side; nothing could have flattered his inse- JOSEPHINE: NAPOLEON'S cure ego more than such attention. E N C H A N T R E S S , PHILIP W . He began to pay her visits. Sometimes she would ignore him, and he SERGEANT would leave in a fit of anger. Yet the next day a passionate letter would arrive from Josephine, and he would rush to see her. Soon he was spending most of his time with her. Her occasional shows of sadness, her bouts of Coquettes know how to please; not how to love, anger or of tears, only deepened his attachment. In March of 1796, Napo- which is why men love leon married Josephine. them so much. Two days after his wedding, Napoleon left to lead a campaign in northern —PIERRE MARIVAUX Italy against the Austrians. "You are the constant object of my thoughts," he wrote to his wife from abroad. "My imagination exhausts itself in guessing what you are doing." His generals saw him distracted: he would leave meetings early, spend hours writing letters, or stare at the miniature of Josephine he wore around his neck. He had been driven to this state by the unbearable distance between them and by a slight coldness he now detected 69 70 • The Art of Seduction An absence, the declining in her—she wrote infrequently, and her letters lacked passion; nor did she of an invitation to dinner, join him in Italy. He had to finish his war fast, so that he could return to an unintentional, her side. Engaging the enemy with unusual zeal, he began to make mis-unconscious harshness are of more service than all takes. "To live for Josephine!" he wrote to her. "I work to get near you; I the cosmetics and fine kill myself to reach you." His letters became more passionate and erotic; a clothes in the world. friend of Josephine's who saw them wrote, "The handwriting [was] almost — M A R C E L PROUST indecipherable, the spelling shaky, the style bizarre and confused . . . . What a position for a woman to find herself in—being the motivating force behind the triumphal march of an entire army." There's also nightly, to the Months went by in which Napoleon begged Josephine to come to Italy unintiated, \ A peril— not

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  himself unobserved and fop, a much more effeminate role than he normally played, and without his alone, strolled this way and usual hint of dangerousness. The film was a flop. Women did not respond that on the grassy sward, to Valentino as a swish. They were thrilled by the ambiguity of a man who and dipped his toes in the lapping water—t hen his shared many of their own feminine traits, yet remained a man. Valentino feet, up to the ankles. dressed and played with his physicality like a woman, but his image was Then, tempted by the masculine. He wooed as a woman would woo if she were a man—slowly, enticing coolness of the attentively, paying attention to details, setting a rhythm instead of hurrying waters, he quickly stripped his young body of its soft to a conclusion. Yet when the time came for boldness and conquest, his garments. At the sight, timing was impeccable, overwhelming his victim and giving her no chance Salmacis was spell-bound. to protest. In his movies, Valentino practiced the same gigolo's art of leading She was on fire with passion to possess his a woman on that he had mastered as a teenager on the dance floor— naked beauty, and her very chatting, flirting, pleasing, but always in control. eyes flamed with a Valentino remains an enigma to this day. His private life and his charac-brilliance like that of the dazzling sun, when his ter are wrapped in mystery; his image continues to seduce as it did during bright disc is reflected in a his lifetime. He served as the model for Elvis Presley, who was obsessed mirror. . . . She longed to with this star of the silents, and also for the modern male dandy who plays embrace him then, and with difficulty restrained with gender but retains an edge of danger and cruelty. her frenzy. Seduction was and will always remain the female form of power and Hermaphroditus, clapping warfare. It was originally the antidote to rape and violence. The man who his hollow palms against uses this form of power on a woman is in essence turning the game around, The Dandy • 45 employing feminine weapons against her; without losing his masculine his body, dived quickly into identity, the more subtly feminine he becomes the more effective the se- the stream. As he raised first one arm and then the duction. Do not be one of those who believe that what is most seductive is other, his body gleamed in being devastatingly masculine. The Feminine Dandy has a much more sin- the clear water, as if ister effect. He lures the woman in with exactly what she wants—a familiar, someone had encased pleasing, graceful presence. Mirroring feminine psychology, he displays at- anivory statue or white lilies in transparent glass. tention to his appearance, sensitivity to detail, a slight coquettishness—but "I have won! He is

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  438 • Appendix A: Seductive Environment/Seductive Time show. Keep everything light and playful, full of distractions, noise, color, and a bit of chaos. No weight, responsibilities, or judgments. A place to lose yourself in. 3. In 1746, a seventeen-year-old girl named Cristina had come to the city of Venice, Italy, with her uncle, a priest, in search of a husband. Cristina was from a small village but had a substantial dowry to offer. The Venetian men who were willing to marry her, however, did not please her. So after two weeks of futile searching, she and her uncle prepared to return to their village. They were seated in their gondola, about to leave the city, when Cristina saw an elegantly dressed young man walking toward them. "There's a handsome fellow!" she said to her uncle. "I wish he was in the boat with us." The gentleman could not have heard this, yet he approached, handed the gondolier some money, and sat down beside Cristina, much to her delight. He introduced himself as Jacques Casanova. When the priest complimented him on his friendly manners, Casanova replied, "Perhaps I should not have been so friendly, my reverend father, if I had not been attracted by the beauty of your niece." Cristina told him why they had come to Venice and why they were leaving. Casanova laughed and chided her—a man cannot decide to marry a girl after seeing her for a few days. He must know more about her character; it would take at least six months. He himself was looking for a wife, and he explained to her why he had been as disappointed by the girls he had met as she had been disappointed by the men. Casanova seemed to have no destination; he simply accompanied them, entertaining Cristina the whole way with witty conversation. When the gondola arrived at the edge of Venice, Casanova hired a carriage to the nearby city of Treviso and invited them to join him. From there they could catch a chaise to their village. The uncle accepted, and on the way to their carriage, Casanova offered his arm to Cristina. What would his mistress say if she saw them, she asked. "I have no mistress," he answered, "and I shall never have one again, for I shall never find such a pretty girl as you—no, not in Venice." His words went to her head, filling it with all kinds of strange thoughts, and she began to talk and act in a manner that was new to her, becoming almost brazen. What a pity she could not stay in Venice for the six months he needed to get to know a girl, she told Casanova. Without hesitation he offered to pay her expenses in Venice for that period while he courted her.

• From My Year of Rest and Relaxation (2018)

  I called Trevor again. “It’s me,” is all he let me say before he started talking. It was the same speech he’d given me a dozen times: he’s involved now and can’t see me anymore. “Not even as just friends,” he said. “Claudia doesn’t believe in platonic relationships between the sexes, and I’m starting to see that she’s right. And she’s going through a divorce, so it’s a sensitive time. And I really like this woman. She’s incredible. Her son is autistic.” “I was just calling to ask if I could borrow some money,” I told him. “My VCR just broke. And I’m horny.” I knew I sounded crazy. I could picture Trevor leaning back in his chair, loosening his tie, cock twitching in his lap despite his better judgment. I heard him sigh. “You need money? That’s why you’re calling?” “I’m sick and can’t leave my apartment. Can you buy me a new VCR and bring it over? I really need it. I’m on all this medication. I can barely make it to the corner. I can hardly get out of bed.” I knew Trevor. He couldn’t resist me when I was weak. That was the fascinating irony about him. Most men were turned off by neediness, but in Trevor, lust and pity went hand in hand. “Look, I can’t deal with you now. I’ve got to go,” he said and hung up. That was fair. He could keep his flabby old vagina lady and her retarded kid. I knew how this new affair would play out for him. He’d win her over with a few months of honorable declarations—“I want to be there for you. Please, lean on me. I love you!”—but when something actually difficult happened—her ex-husband sued her for custody, for example—Trevor would start to have doubts. “You’re asking me to sacrifice my own needs for yours—don’t you see how selfish that is?” They’d argue. He’d bolt. He might even call me to apologize for “being cold on the phone the last time we talked. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. I hope we can move past it. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’d hate to lose you.” If he didn’t come over now, I thought, it was just a matter of days. I got up and took a few trazodones and lay back down. I called Trevor again. This time when he answered, I didn’t let him say a word. “If you’re not over here fucking me in the next forty-five minutes then you can call an ambulance because I’ll be here bleeding to death and I’m not gonna slit my wrists in the tub like a normal person. If you’re not here in forty-five minutes, I’m gonna slit my throat right here on the sofa. And in the meantime, I’m going to call my lawyer and tell him I’m leaving everything in the apartment to you, especially the sofa.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  And then Prince Alexi removed her ornate mantle of white silk to show the Queen's black hair hanging loose in ripples over her shoulders. He took the garments away. Then he came back to remove with his teeth the Queen's slippers. He kissed her naked feet before he took the shoes out of sight, and then he brought back to the Queen a sheer nightgown trimmed in white lace, the fabric a lustrous cream color. It was very full and pressed into a thousand pleats. And as the Queen rose, Prince Alexi pulled down the chemise that she wore, and rising to his full height put the nightgown over the Queen's shoulders. She slipped her arms into the deep pleated bag sleeves, and the garment fell about her like a bell. And then with his back to Beauty, Prince Alexi on his knees again tied a dozen little bows of white ribbon to close the front of the gown to its hem above the Queen's naked insteps. As he bent over for the last of these, the Queen's hands played idly with his auburn hair, and Beauty found herself staring at his reddened buttocks where he had obviously been recently punished. His thighs, his tight, hard calves, all of this enflamed her. "Pull back the curtains of the bed," the Queen said. "And bring her to me." Beauty's pulse deafened her. It seemed there was a pressure in her ears, in her throat. Yet she heard the tapestries being drawn back. She saw the Queen recline on the coverlet amid a nest of silk pillows. The Queen looked younger now that her hair was free, and her face was without a trace of age as she stared at Beauty. Those eyes were as placid as if they had been painted in her face with enamel. Then with a shock of unwelcome pleasure, Beauty saw Prince Alexi before her. He obliterated the vision of the menacing Queen. He bent to untie her ankles and she felt his fingers deliberately caress her. When he rose in front of her again, his hands up to free her wrists, she smelled the perfume of his hair and skin, and there seemed something utterly lush about him. For all his hardness, the squareness of his build, he seemed some great spicy delicacy to her, and she found herself staring right into his eyes. He smiled and let his lips touch her forehead. And they stayed secretly pressed to her forehead until her wrists were entirely free and he was holding them. Then he pushed her gently down on her knees and gestured to the bed. "No, simply bring her," said the Queen. And Prince Alexi lifted Beauty and threw her over his shoulder as easily as a Page might have done, or the Prince himself when he took her from her father's castle.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  I must weep if I must weep, but I must do all she commanded, even if to think of it sent my heart to thudding in my wrists and temples. "Finally everyone was ready. A handful of exquisite little Princesses had served the wine, swinging their pretty little hips and showing me some delightful sights as they bent over to fill the cups. And they too were to see me punished. "All the Court, for the first time, was to see it. "Then with a clap of her hands, the Queen ordered that her pet, Prince Alexi be brought in and that Princess Lynette 'tame' me and 'train' me before their very eyes. "Lord Gregory gave me the usual quick smacks with the paddle. "At once I was in the circle of light, my eyes hurt by it for the moment, and then I saw my trainer's high-heeled boots coming nearer. In a moment of impetuousness, I rushed to her and kissed both her shoes at once. The Court gave a loud murmur of approval. "I continued to shower her with kisses, and I thought, 'My evil Lynette, my strong, cruel Lynette, you are my Queen now.' It was as if my passion were a fluid that coursed through all my limbs, not only my swollen cock. I arched my back and spread my legs every so slightly without even being told to do so. "At once the spanks commenced. But clever little demon that she was, she said, 'Prince Alexi, you will show your Queen that you are a very quick-witted pet, and you shall answer all my commands with your compliance. And you shall answer all my questions, too, with perfect courtesy.' "So I would have to speak. I felt the blood rush to my face. But she gave no time for my terror, and I said with a quick nod of the head, 'Yes, my Princess,' to a murmur of the audience's approval. "She was strong as I have told you. She could spank much harder than the Queen, and as hard as ever the kitchen boys of the stable boys had spanked me. I knew she meant to leave me sore if nothing else, because immediately she gave me several loud cracks, and she had that knack which some of our punishers have of lifting the buttocks with the paddle as she spanked them. "'To that stool, there,' she commanded at once, 'at a squat with your knees wide apart and your hands behind your neck, now!' And she drove me at once to obey as I hopped up on the stool and with a great but quick effort managed to secure my balance.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  Beauty stared at the captive Princes and Princesses, who though they could no longer beg with groans and cries, still bowed before the Prince who seemed indifferent to them. "It is perhaps the loveliest village of the realm," the Prince went on, "with a stern Lord Mayor and many Inns and taverns that are the favorites of the soldiers. But it is allowed one special privilege that no other village enjoys, and that is to purchase at auction for the warm months those Princes and Princesses in need of dire punishment. Anyone in the village may purchase a slave if he or she has the gold for it." It seemed at this some of the captives could not prevent themselves from imploring the Prince, and with a snap of his fingers he ordered the guards to go to work with their belts and long paddles, causing an immediate uproar. The miserable, desperate slaves huddled together, turning their vulnerable breasts and organs towards their tormentors, as if at all costs they must protect their sore backsides. But the tall, yellow-haired Prince Tristan made no move to protect himself, merely allowing himself to be jostled by the others. His eyes had never left his Lord, but now slowly they turned and fixed upon Beauty. Beauty's heart contracted. She felt a slight dizziness. She stared straight into those unreadable blue eyes while at the same time she thought, "Ah, this is the village." "It is wretched service," Lady Juliana went on, obviously imploring the Prince. "The auction itself takes place as soon as the slaves arrive and you can well suppose that even the beggars and common louts about town are there to witness it. Why, the whole village declares a holiday. And each poor slave is carried off by his or her master not only to degradation and punishment, but miserable labor. Mind you, the crude practical people of the village do not keep even the loveliest Prince or Princess for mere pleasure." Beauty was remembering Alexi's description of his exposure in the villages, the high wooden platform in the marketplace, the crude crowd, and their celebration of his humiliation. She felt her sex secretly ache with desire, and yet she was horrified. "Ah, but for all its roughness and cruelty," said the Prince, now glancing at the inconsolable Lord Stefan who stood still with his back to the unfortunates," it is a sublime punishment. Few slaves can learn from a year in the castle what they can learn from the warm months in the village. And of course, they cannot be really hurt, any more than slaves here. The same strict rules apply: no cutting, no burning, no real wounding. And each week, they are herded to a slaves' hall for bathing and oiling. But when they return to the castle they are more than sweet or meek; they have been reborn with incomparable strength and beauty."

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  The French libertines of the eighteenth century called this "the moment." The seducer leads the victim to a point where he or she reveals involuntary signs of physical excitation that can be read in various symptoms. Once those signs are detected, the seducer must work quickly, applying pressure on the target to get lost in the moment—the past, the future, all moral scruples vanishing in air. Once your victims lose themselves in the moment, it is all over—their mind, their conscience, no longer holds them back. The body gives in to pleasure. Madame de Lursay lures Meilcour into the moment by creating a generalized disorder of the senses, rendering him incapable of thinking straight. In leading your victims into the moment, remember a few things. First, Use Physical Lures • 403 a disordered look (Madame de Lursay's tousled hair, her ruffled dress) has more effect on the senses than a neat appearance. It suggests the bedroom. Second, be alert to the signs of physical excitation. Blushing, trembling of the voice, tears, unusually forceful laughter, relaxing movements of the body (any kind of involuntary mirroring, their gestures imitating yours), a revealing slip of the tongue—these are signs that the victim is slipping into the moment and pressure is to be applied. In 1934, a Chinese football player named Li met a young actress named Lan Ping in Shanghai. He began to see her often at his matches, cheering him on. They would meet at public affairs, and he would notice her glancing at him with her "strange, yearning eyes," then looking away. One evening he found her seated next to him at a reception. Her leg brushed up against his. They chatted, and she asked him to see a movie with her at a nearby cinema. Once they were there, her head found its way onto his shoulder; she whispered into his ear, something about the film. Later they strolled the streets, and she put her arm around his waist. She brought him to a restaurant where they drank some wine. Li took her to his hotel room, and there he found himself overwhelmed by caresses and sweet words. She gave him no room to retreat, no time to cool down. Three years later Lan Ping—soon to be renamed Jiang Qing—played a similar game on Mao Zedong. She was to become Mao's wife—the infamous Madame Mao, leader of the Gang of Four.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  Most of this came naturally to Villiers, but you will probably have to use some calculation. Fortunately, all of us have strong childish tendencies within us that are easy to access and exaggerate. Make your gestures seem spontaneous and unplanned. Any sexual element of your behavior should seem innocent, unconscious. Like Villiers, don't push for favors. Parents prefer to spoil children who don't ask for things but invite them in their manner. Seeming nonjudgmental and uncritical of those around you will make everything you do seem more natural and naive. Have a happy, cheerful demeanor, but with a playful edge. Emphasize any weaknesses you might have, things you cannot control. Remember: most of us remember our early years fondly, but often, paradoxically, the people with the strongest attachment to those times are the ones who had the most difficult childhoods. Actually, circumstances kept them from getting to be children, so they never really grew up, and they long for the paradise they never got to experience. James I falls into this category. These types are ripe targets for a reverse regression. Symbol: The Bed. Lying alone in bed, the child feels unprotected, afraid, and needy. In a nearby room, there is the parent's bed. It is large and forbidding, site of things you are not supposed to know about. Give the seduced both feelings—h elplessness and transgression— as you lay them into bed and put them to sleep. Reversal To reverse the strategies of regression, the parties to a seduction would have to remain adults during the process. This is not only rare, it is not very pleasurable. Seduction means realizing certain fantasies. Being a mature and responsible adult is not a fantasy, it is a duty. Furthermore, a person who remains an adult in relation to you is harder to seduce. In all kinds of seduction—political, media, personal—the target must regress. The only danger is that the child, wearying of dependence, turns against the parent and rebels. You must be prepared for this, and unlike a parent, never take it personally. Stir Up the Transgressive and Taboo There are always social limits on what one can do. Some of these, the most elemental taboos, go back centuries; others are more superficial, simply defining polite and acceptable behavior. Making your targets feel that you are leading them past either kind of limit is immensely seductive. People yearn to explore their dark side. Not everything in romantic love is supposed to be tender and soft; hint that you have a cruel, even sadistic streak. You do not respect age differences, marriage vows, family ties. Once the desire to transgress draws your targets to you, it will be hard for them to stop. Take them further than they imagined— the shared feeling of guilt and complicity will create a powerful bond. The Lost Self

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  whether it was she did put the seduction as long as possible. So, while boldness can work wonders, un-it down to an overchilliness controllable boldness is not seductive but frightening; you need to be able in love, or a lack of courage, to turn it on and off at will, know when to use it. As in Tantrism, you can or a defect of bodily vigor. create more pleasure by delaying the inevitable. — S E I G N E U R DE BRANTÔME, In the 1720s, the Duc de Richelieu developed an infatuation with a LIVES OF FAIR & GALLANT L A D I E S , TRANSLATED B Y A . R . certain duchess. The woman was exceptionally beautiful, and was desired ALLINSON by one and all, but she was far too virtuous to take a lover, although she Master the Art of the Bold Move • 411 could be quite coquettish. Richelieu bided his time. He befriended her, A man should proceed to charming her with the wit that had made him the favorite of the ladies. enjoy any woman when she gives him an One night a group of such women, including the duchess, decided to play opportunity and makes her a practical joke on him, in which he was to be forced naked out of his own love manifest to him room at the palace of Versailles. The joke worked to perfection, the ladies by the following signs: she all got to see him in his native glory, and had a good chuckle watching him calls out to a man without first being addressed by run away. There were many places Richelieu could have hidden; the place him; she shows herself to he chose was the duchess's bedroom. Minutes later he watched her enter him in secret places; she and undress, and once the candles were extinguished, he crept into bed speaks to him tremblingly and inarticulately; her face with her. She protested, tried to scream. He covered her mouth with kisses, blooms with delight and and she eventually and happily relented. Richelieu had decided to make his her fingers or toes perspire; bold move then for several reasons. First, the duchess had come to like him, and sometimes she remains with both hands placed on and even to harbor a secret desire for him. She would never act upon it or his body as if she had been admit it, but he was certain it existed. Second, she had seen him naked, and surprised by something, or could not help but be impressed. Third, she would feel a touch of pity for as if overcome with fatigue. • After a woman has his predicament, and for the joke played on him. Richelieu, a consummate manifested her love to him seducer, would find no more perfect moment. by outward signs, and by

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  as the incarnation of the Egyptian exotic. His life with her was a constant Sirens became aware that a game, as challenging as warfare, for the moment he felt secure with her she ship was swiftly bearing 7 8 • The Art of Seduction down upon them, and would suddenly turn cold or angry and he would have to find a way to re-broke into their liquid song. gain her favor. • " Draw near," they sang, The weeks went by. Caesar got rid of all Cleopatra's rivals and found "illustrious Odysseus, flower of Achaean chivalry, excuses to stay in Egypt. At one point she led him on a lavish historical exand bring your ship to rest pedition down the Nile. In a boat of unimaginable splendor—towering so that you may hear our fifty-four feet out of the water, including several terraced levels and a pil-voices. No seaman ever sailed his black ship past lared temple to the god Dionysus—Caesar became one of the few Romans this spot without listening to gaze on the pyramids. And while he stayed long in Egypt, away from to the sweet tones that flow his throne in Rome, all kinds of turmoil erupted throughout the Roman from our lips . . ." • The Empire. lovely voices came to me across the water, and my When Caesar was murdered, in 44 B.C., he was succeeded by a triumvi-heart was filled with such a rate of rulers including Mark Antony, a brave soldier who loved pleasure longing to listen that with and spectacle and fancied himself a kind of Roman Dionysus. A few years nod and frown I signed to my men to set me free. later, while Antony was in Syria, Cleopatra invited him to come meet her — H O M E R , THE ODYSSEY, BOOK in the Egyptian town of Tarsus. There—once she had made him wait for X I I , T R A N S L A T E D B Y E . V . R I E U her—her appearance was as startling in its way as her first before Caesar. A magnificent gold barge with purple sails appeared on the river Cydnus. The oarsmen rowed to the accompaniment of ethereal music; all around the The charm of [ Cleopatra's] boat were beautiful young girls dressed as nymphs and mythological figures. presence was irresistible, and there was an attraction Cleopatra sat on deck, surrounded and fanned by cupids and posed as the in her person and talk, goddess Aphrodite, whose name the crowd chanted enthusiastically. together with a peculiar Like all of Cleopatra's victims, Antony felt mixed emotions. The exotic force of character, which