He asked: “What do you want?”
She answered: “You know what I want,” her voice heavy and flat.
“Yes. But I want to hear you say it. All of it.”
“If you wish.” Her voice had the sound of efficiency, obeying an order with metallic precision. “I want to sleep with you. Now, tonight, and at any time you may care to call me. I want your naked body, your skin, your mouth, your hands. I want you – like this- not hysterical with desire – but coldly and consciously- without dignity and without regrets – I want you- I have no self-respect to bargain with me and divide me – I want you- I want you like and animal, or a cat on a fence, or a whore.”
He sat deep in his chair, stretched out, his body relaxed, and taut in relaxation, a stillness being filled slowly with the violence of future motion.
“Don’t fool yourself my dear. You’re much worse than a whore. You’re a saint. Which shows why saints are dangerous and undesirable.”
“This is what I want of you. That is what I am. You wanted to hear it all. You’ve heard it. What do you wish to say now?”
“Take your clothes off.”