Delta of Venus - Anais Nin [111]
He was too absorbed to talk. He walked over to the bed, laid the handkerchief on the bedspread and then threw himself on it, unbuttoning his trousers as he fell. He pushed and rubbed. After a moment he sat up on the bed, wrapped his penis with the handkerchief and then continued jerking, finally reaching an orgasm which made him cry out with joy. He had completely forgotten Linda. He was in a state of ecstasy. The handkerchief was wet from his ejaculation. He lay back panting.
Linda left him. As she walked through the hallways of the house she met the woman who had received her. The woman was amazed that she should want to leave so soon. ‘I gave you one of our most refined clients,’ she said, ‘a harmless creature.’
It was after this episode that Linda sat in the Bois one day watching the parade of spring costumes on a Sunday morning. She was drinking in the colors and elegance and perfumes when she became conscious of a particular perfume near her. She turned her head. To her right sat a handsome man of about forty, elegantly dressed, with his glossy black hair carefully combed back. Was it from his hair that this perfume came? It reminded Linda of her voyage to Fez, of the great beauty of the Arab men there. It had a potent effect on her. She looked at the man. He turned and smiled at her, a brilliant white smile of big strong teeth with two smaller milk teeth, slightly crooked, which gave him a roguish air.
Linda said, ‘You use a perfume which I smelled in Fez.’
‘That’s right,’ said the man, ‘I was in Fez. I bought this at the market there. I have a passion for perfumes. But since I found this one I have never used any other.’
‘It smells like some precious wood,’ said Linda. ‘Men should smell like precious wood. I have always dreamed of finally reaching a country in South America where there are whole forests of precious woods which exude marvelous odors. Once I was in love with patchouli, a very ancient perfume. People no longer use it. It came from India. The Indian shawls of our grandmothers were always saturated with patchouli. I like to walk along the docks, too, and smell spices in the warehouses. Do you do that?’
‘I do. I follow women sometimes, just because of their perfume, their smell.’
‘I wanted to stay in Fez and marry an Arab.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I fell in love with an Arab once. I visited him several times. He was the handsomest man I had ever seen. He had a dark skin and enormous jet eyes, an expression of such emotion and fervor that it swept me off my feet. He had a thundering voice and the softest manner. Whenever he talked to anyone, he would stand, even in the street, holding their two hands, tenderly, as if he wanted to touch all human beings with the same great softness and tenderness. I was completely seduced, but …’
‘What happened?’
‘One day, when it was extremely hot, we sat drinking mint tea in his garden and he took off his turban. His head was completely shaved. It is the tradition of the Arabs. It seems that all their heads are completely shaved. That somehow cured me of my infatuation.’
The stranger laughed.
With perfect synchronization, they got up and started to walk together. Linda was as much affected by the perfume, which came from the man’s hair, as she would have been by a glass of wine. Her legs felt unsteady, her head foggy. Her breasts swelled and fell with the deep breaths she took. The stranger watched the heaving of her breasts as if he were watching the sea unfolding at his feet.
At the edge of the Bois he stopped. ‘I live right up there,’ he said, pointing with his cane to an apartment with many balconies. ‘Would you care to come in and have an apéritif with me on my terrace?’
Linda accepted. It seemed to her that, were she deprived of the perfume which enchanted her, she would suffocate.
They sat on his terrace, quietly drinking. Linda leaned back languidly. The