"Yeah, but this is different, these girls work via the Internet. They're pretty young, some of them are still students. They don't take many clients, they pick and choose, and they are not doing it just for the money. At least lie told me it's pretty good. If you want we can try it sometime. A bisexual girl for the two of us: I know men are turned on by all that and, actually, I like girls too."
We didn't do it that summer, but the simple fact that she had suggested it was tremendously exciting. I was lucky. She knew the different things that kept male desire alive—well, not completely, that was impossible, but let's say enough to make love from time to time, while waiting for everything to come to an end. In fact, being aware of such things is nothing; it's easy, pathetically so. But she enjoyed doing these things, she took pleasure in them, she enjoyed seeing the desire rising in my eyes. Often, in a restaurant, when she came back from the restroom, she would place the panties she had just taken off on the table. Then she liked to slip a hand between my legs to make the most of my erection. Sometimes she would open my fly and jerk me off right there, hidden by the tablecloth. In the mornings, too, when she woke me with fellatio and handed me a cup of coffee before taking me into her mouth again, I would feel a dizzying rush of gratitude and gentleness. She knew how to stop just before I came, she could have kept me on the brink for hours. I lived inside a game, a game that was tender and exciting, the only game left to adults; I moved through a universe of gentle desires and limitless moments of pleasure.