“Call him back. I should like to observe him again. And you, too, of course. You are quite attractive as you squirm beneath him. I notice that you use two positions. In one, you face him; in the other he enters you from behind.”
“I like the first.” What was this squirrelly satisfaction I got from discussing Ajax’s bedroom gymnastics with my TV, my mantle, the light fixture, even the ashtray? “Because I can watch him do it to me. But the other way is good, too, because it’s full-body contact.”
“He prefers that, I believe,” my reading lamp suggested.
“Yes, I think you are right.”
“Contact him,” the voice, which was beginning to sound a bit like me, urged again.
“Can’t. He drove his own car today and won’t be back at the dorm yet. And you heard him tell me he has to study for midterm exa
