We haunted foreign film festivals, viewed the works of Bresson ("Le Filou"), Carné, Eisenstein, Buñuel, Fritz Lang. She assigned me book... to read, and we discussed Goethe, Stendhal, and Balzac. We talked far into the night, and sometimes fell asleep in each other's arms, too fatigued to make love.And there were the long walks in Central Park, the picnics on the lawn by the statue of Sigismund Wasa, mounted, in full battle armor, with crossed swords over his head. "He was king of. ..I stand up, shakily, the drink and the lustful emotion having their effectsSmile coquettishly"I'll be back soon darling."I walk into the kitchenPick up the bottle therePour another drink"You are a real slut, you know that."He is still VERY erectI stare at his aroused manhoodHe knows I'm teasing him, that I am at the stage where I can't resist himWhatever that means.I half-finish my vodkaMove over to him againBend over and kiss him hardThen againSliding my red lips down his cockI go into. More

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