for a year, friends and women all close to hand, and the chance to work at what I am good at and receive pay and recognition for what I do. And yet it was empty. Only in those manic moments when I was “on” did the whole scene mean anything. Somehow, without a woman who was special, without a mate, I was incomplete, and no amount of social gloss could fill the gap. This much was clear; the question then became, was Regina that woman? And how does one go about making such a judgement? How could I think in terms of measurement?
My mind sped back to the scenes we’d been in, and all the bummers lined up in one ledger while all the good trips lined up in another. I couldn’t begin to give them values in order to weigh them. I remembered the time I met her. It was at a big registration day meeting at the Berkeley Free University. I was teaching a workshop in relaxation and breathing, and she was doing a dance number. I had heard her name as someone to see, and I found where she was sitting. At first I was disappointed. I had expected a very young, blonde chick with slow knowing eyes; Regina was clearly close to thirty, and very nervous, with eyes that came across like a self-conscious cash register. She was married at the time, and she introduced me to her old man. I saw at once that they weren’t making it, a flash that was substantiated later. I went about to do some things and then somebody threw a long piece of rock on the stereo and I began dancing. I saw Regina across the way and beckoned to her. We danced toward each other, and for about twenty minutes worked everything out with our bodies. It got to be pure fucking, although most people don’t know how to look at dance so they missed the scene, except for the Communications Company, who came up after the record ended and gave me a pornographic magazine, with comic-book drawings of Antony and Cleopatra.
I got to rapping to her old man and dug they were at a place where they could use a third to catalyze their mix. I knew it was tricky but as Jud once put it, “Threesomes are chic.” I made a mental note to visit them one night soon and see if we could get it off and get it on.
But before that happened, two days later she called me. “Come over,” she said. And in her voice was a fucking summons, clear as a bell. I didn’t like being thrown off balance in this way, because I operate best when I move at my own rhythm. But I went, and as I suspected, her old man wasn’t home. She was pretty frantic and hopping all around the place and what I wanted to do most was to get her to sit down and relax before anything else happened. But she had a program in her head and marched us both through it in double-time. She put on a record, danced for three minutes, put her arms around my neck, and dragged me down to the mattress. I knew it was wrong as it happened, wrong timing, wrong vibrations. Then the bombshell. “I’ve never come with a man,” she said. “I know you can make me come.”
Of course, the thing to have done was to rise up immediately and state, “I can’t make anybody do anything,” and split. But the old ego was at work, getting all puffed up. I had a small reputation around the school as a man who knew and understood what women’s bodies needed. And here I was being consulted on a special case!
Off with our clothes! And before I knew it, I had an erection, was inside her, and came, all before I had a chance to catch my breath. Inside she was moving so fast that she literally speeded time up, and I felt like a man who steps into an elevator shaft expecting to find an elevator there but getting a nasty surprise. I lay on her in full shock, my cock shrinking quickly and my ego hightailing it out of sight. Regina’s face was as hard as stone and her eyes told me how much she despised me at the moment. I had been suckered into committing the crime, then was caught, tried, convicted and executed, all within half an hour. Somewhere inside me I took my
My mind sped back to the scenes we’d been in, and all the bummers lined up in one ledger while all the good trips lined up in another. I couldn’t begin to give them values in order to weigh them. I remembered the time I met her. It was at a big registration day meeting at the Berkeley Free University. I was teaching a workshop in relaxation and breathing, and she was doing a dance number. I had heard her name as someone to see, and I found where she was sitting. At first I was disappointed. I had expected a very young, blonde chick with slow knowing eyes; Regina was clearly close to thirty, and very nervous, with eyes that came across like a self-conscious cash register. She was married at the time, and she introduced me to her old man. I saw at once that they weren’t making it, a flash that was substantiated later. I went about to do some things and then somebody threw a long piece of rock on the stereo and I began dancing. I saw Regina across the way and beckoned to her. We danced toward each other, and for about twenty minutes worked everything out with our bodies. It got to be pure fucking, although most people don’t know how to look at dance so they missed the scene, except for the Communications Company, who came up after the record ended and gave me a pornographic magazine, with comic-book drawings of Antony and Cleopatra.
I got to rapping to her old man and dug they were at a place where they could use a third to catalyze their mix. I knew it was tricky but as Jud once put it, “Threesomes are chic.” I made a mental note to visit them one night soon and see if we could get it off and get it on.
But before that happened, two days later she called me. “Come over,” she said. And in her voice was a fucking summons, clear as a bell. I didn’t like being thrown off balance in this way, because I operate best when I move at my own rhythm. But I went, and as I suspected, her old man wasn’t home. She was pretty frantic and hopping all around the place and what I wanted to do most was to get her to sit down and relax before anything else happened. But she had a program in her head and marched us both through it in double-time. She put on a record, danced for three minutes, put her arms around my neck, and dragged me down to the mattress. I knew it was wrong as it happened, wrong timing, wrong vibrations. Then the bombshell. “I’ve never come with a man,” she said. “I know you can make me come.”
Of course, the thing to have done was to rise up immediately and state, “I can’t make anybody do anything,” and split. But the old ego was at work, getting all puffed up. I had a small reputation around the school as a man who knew and understood what women’s bodies needed. And here I was being consulted on a special case!
Off with our clothes! And before I knew it, I had an erection, was inside her, and came, all before I had a chance to catch my breath. Inside she was moving so fast that she literally speeded time up, and I felt like a man who steps into an elevator shaft expecting to find an elevator there but getting a nasty surprise. I lay on her in full shock, my cock shrinking quickly and my ego hightailing it out of sight. Regina’s face was as hard as stone and her eyes told me how much she despised me at the moment. I had been suckered into committing the crime, then was caught, tried, convicted and executed, all within half an hour. Somewhere inside me I took my
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