Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man - Lawrence Block [28]
And this perception made it impossible for me to continue. Not physically impossible—I remained quite the upstanding citizen, actually—but spiritually impossible. And so I withdrew from the choicest part of Naughty Nasty Nancy, who is indeed a collection of choice parts, who is in fact a synergistic young woman whose (w)hole is greater than the sum of her parts, and I propped myself on an elbow and my cock on her thigh and looked long and searchingly into her baby gray-greens.
“Is something the matter, Larry?”
“You stole my line.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“You just did it again. Something’s the matter, and you don’t follow me. Am I doing something wrong?”
“Of course not.”
“But I seem to have left out the oregano.”
“I think I must have missed the opening credits,” she said. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s just it.”
“I mean, I’m having a wonderful time.”
“But there’s something you like that I’m not doing.”
“Not exactly.”
“That means yes.”
She put her hand on my cheek. Her hand was cold and dry. I brought her fingers to my lips.
“I don’t always come, if that’s what you mean. I can enjoy it without that.”
“But you sometimes come.”
“Sometimes.”
“Just with girls?”
“No. In fact I usually have a better chance with boys. I’m not really into girls that much, to tell you the truth. None of us really are. It’s having nothing but girls around all the time, and also that we love each other very much, and if you love someone you ought to love them physically. And also it feels good.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So it’s not that.”
“It’s something special that you like to do.”
“Sort of.”
“So tell me and we’ll do it.
“Well, you might not want to, Larry.”
“Only one way to find out.”
She turned her eyes away from me. “The thing is that it’s perverted.”
“Most everything is.”
“Well, more perverted than most.”
“So?”
She looked at me again. She was having trouble saying this, but her eyes still reflected a good measure of delight and amusement.
She said, “The thing is, it has to hurt.”
“Ah. Naughty Nasty Nancy.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Whom does it have to hurt?”
“Me. Although—”
“Yes?”
“When I get off, I can go a little bit crazy. Biting and scratching and things like that.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Also damned antisocial.”
“So let’s do it.”
“It doesn’t turn you off? Oh, my, I guess it doesn’t. How big and hard it is. Do you really want to?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She took a breath, and I watched her face change, her mouth slackened and her eyes glazed slightly. “Lie on your back, that’s right. No, spread your legs. Now get inside me. Oh, God, you’re so big and hard, and now I’ll put my legs together and squeeze you. Can you feel how tight I am around you?”
(I could, Rozanne. I could.)
“Now hook your feet around my ankles. That’s right, so I can’t move. Now spank me.”
“On the bottom?”
“Yes, right on my ass. Don’t move your hips, don’t move your cock around, just do everything with the spanking.”
“How hard?”
“As hard as you can. And if I say to stop or if I yell that it hurts, don’t pay any attention to me. Just go on hitting me harder. Use your other arm to hold me so I can’t move. Yes, that’s right. Now start beating the shit out of me. Oh, yes. Oh, Jesus. Naughty naughty naughty. Oh, naughty girl. God! Oh, you’re killing me! Oh, Jesus Christ, stop, you’re killing me, naughty, naughty, don’t stop, harder, oh, Jesus, oh—”
She had an absolutely overwhelming orgasm.
She wasn’t the only one, Rozanne.
Now you may be wondering why I took the trouble to tell you all this, Rozanne. You might even suspect that I simply wanted to write something that would get you all hot and bothered. I’ll admit that the thought did cross my mind that you might well read this letter with one hand tucked up under your skirt. In fact it pleases me to picture you that way.
But there’s more to it than that. You see, you want very much to come over and have me eat