When
I tell Clayton’s lovely assistant for the evening that I’ve never
experienced the Hitachi
,
her eyes light up. I’ve obviously gotten myself into the most fun kind
of trouble. Lights get set and everyone assumes their positions. My
underwear lays on the floor out of frame. As I start reading, my
disbelief is suspended. I forget what is about to happen. The first
touch on my thigh sends all available blood to my vulva. I continue to
enunciate properly, focusing on the text. I’ve broken a sweat. If this
goes on for much longer my hair will be plastered to my head with
perspiration as though I’ve been working out or engaging in acrobatic
man/woman penetrative fucking. I stumble over a word, my concentration
breaks as I go back to pronounce it correctly. Neither the Hitachi or
the woman wielding it will be denied, but in the interests of art (and
because this feels so beautifully filthy I don’t want it to stop yet) I
hold out as long as I can. This section of the world that I’m
inhabiting slows down, zooms in. Like a stretched rubber band it
suddenly contracts, and I am lovingly punched with an orgasm.
And she did all that without a teleprompter!
ReplyDeleteUh, I honestly haven't a clue.
ReplyDeleteBut having taught literature for 15 years, I figured 'What the hell, why not' and gave it a listen. Besides, today is blustery cold and rainy.
As I watched it, my perception of the performer's mindset progressed from pseudointellectual to groupie to flake to something resembling a serial killer's sexual gratification in abusing and then terminating his victim.
The last minute or so convinced me that she was sitting on a silent sybian machine. I kinda wish I had that 6 minutes 52 seconds back.
She was faking. I've seen it a thousand times.
ReplyDelete"She was faking. I've seen it a thousand times."
ReplyDeleteMaybe she was, but were you seeing it from under the table??
And lest suppose you took any woman randomly (who was willing to try this); what sort of reaction would she have to five minutes of Mr. Hitachi? Srlsy.
They'd pee their pants?
ReplyDeleteI'll have what she's having.
ReplyDelete"She was faking. I've seen it a thousand times."
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot--I just spewed Gatorade all over my laptop--where do I send the bill?
I read it as "hibachi."
ReplyDeleteNever mind.
Sorry iri - I am sometimes oblivious (and I'm on Heroin withdrawal). Good on you.
ReplyDeletePffft, forget about it. It was probably real but still....who does this shit?
ReplyDeleteI don't think any of the women I've ever known (biblically)would sit still for that. Wait, you know what I mean.
Alicia is my favorite of all of them...
ReplyDeleteKim