That Thing You Do With Your Mouth: The Sexual Autobiography of Samantha Matthews as Told to David Shields by David Shields, Samantha Matthews

spooning her and lightly patting her bottom, to comfort her, to show affection, as she’d always done to me. It seemed to me an extension of a hug. Two pats in, she almost jumped from the bed.
    She says she was made to feel guilty—by her mother—on the two or three occasions when, as a child, she saw her birth father. They were reunited about ten years ago and continued to have a relationship until he died recently.
    Just like her mom, at nineteen my mom had a daughter, whom she gave up for adoption. (Vivian and Errol sent my mom to a pregnancy home in Kentucky to hide herself/it.) This half sister of mine, Sallie, found my mother about eight years ago. They have a relationship now, seeing each other when my mom goes to Detroit, and she’s come to Seattle to visit. I think they speak about once a month—probably more than my mom and I do. Sallie wants to meet me. Not interested. That probably sounds really cold, but I’m just not.
    I think my mother felt that Errol never loved her. In fact, about twenty years ago she discovered that eventhough Errol adopted her, she wasn’t in Errol and Vivian’s will; only Sarah and Eleanor were. I believe there was a confrontation and that was changed; I’m not sure.
    Starting when I was around nine—to get my mom to stop drinking—I’d imitate her drinking and vomiting episodes from the night before. Tucking me in at night, she’d be drunk, alcohol on her breath, her dead weight next to me. I’d tell her to brush her teeth. Didn’t matter. She wasn’t there…
    After a week of drugging herself to near death in her room last summer when I was visiting, she appeared one morning with smeared lipstick on her mouth, a wild, high look in her eyes, and a crazed smile on her face, saying, “Hi! Good morning, everyone!” She was fine , so happy , so joyous , and was letting me know with that smile that nothing was going on and nothing had been going on over the past five days. I can still hear it in her voice over the phone and don’t trust that she’s ever really going to come off her pain meds.
    I’m jealous of people who have no need or desire to blot things out. (You really never drink more than one glass of wine with dinner? That’s so weird, David!) I’ve taughtmyself how to not feel unpleasant things. I’ve suffered from horrible panic attacks since, really, forever. As a young child I didn’t know what they were. I just thought I was dying all the time. For years and years I’ve been trying to reprogram myself to feel things, pleasurable things. I used drinking, and still do, as a way to calm the negative noise and go into a celebratory mood: Look how lucky I am to be where I am despite it all. Life is great! (I’m sober right now, by the way.)
    January is No Vices month for William and me. No coffee, no cigarettes, no booze. My skin is all broken out, and I look like hell. I feel hyperactively awake, nervy. I feel super-sharp mentally, which I really like, but sometimes it’s just too loud in my head. My normal state is like a person on speed. I drink to calm that down. I’ve been exercising and that just gives me even more energy. I long to feel fucking tired . I’m just never relaxed.
    So how long have you been in the business?
    About three years.
    Do you enjoy your work?
    Definitely.
    Do you like it more with men or women?
    Oh, men, of course.
    Do you prefer vaginal or anal sex?
    Vaginal. If I can avoid anal, all the better.
    Do you like being peed on?
    I don’t get into any of that—S&M, domination, anything that deals with pain. That’s just really not my thing. And I won’t do it.
    Have you ever done any of these things we’re talking about?
    Yes.
    What happened?
    I just don’t get excited by those things. I enjoy sex a lot, just not that way.
    Have you always enjoyed sex?
    I lost my virginity when I was twelve and I’ve always really