la poursuite du bonheur

drift

2008-06-01T11:17:00.002+09:30

Woman: The things is, sex is such a pleasure - except when it isn’t, which isn’t often, thankfully – that it’s hard to imagine any pleasure without thinking about sex, without comparing it to sex or sexualising it somehow.

Man: Mmm, because it kind of is sexual somehow, because presumably the pleasure centres in the brain are lit up by sex, and when they’re lit up by something else, like, I don’t know, a great piece of architecture or a fine piece of writing or a brilliant idea, well, it’s the same area lit up, and so it’s sex all over again, slightly differently packaged, with extra neurons firing, a different shape to it somehow, so not identical, but the same chemistry…

Woman: I get your drift.

Man: Oh yes, it’s most definitely drift. I mean, what am I talking about, genetics, neurophysiology, neuromancy, I haven’t a fucking clue.

Woman: Well, you do have a clue. You have a few clues, and you’re following them up. And guess what.

Man: What?

Woman: Your penis is no longer erect.

Man: And I’m still happy – I think.

Woman: Of course, there might be more to life than happiness.

Man: More? You want more?

Woman: Well, you know, if ignorance is bliss as they say, then bliss, or happiness, is ignorance, and we don't want to be ignorant, or I don't.

Man: Ignorance is bliss, but knowledge is power, and a cliché is always a cliché.

Woman: Ignorance is bliss, knowledge is power. Sort of explains religion somehow. Submit, accept your own ignorance, be happy. Knowledge is elsewhere, where the power is, don't try to get there, that's hubris, accept your limitations.

Man: Your enormous limitations.

Woman: Yeah... well, fuck religion. Sex, now that's obviously a subset of happiness, rather than vice versa.

Man: And sometimes it's not about happiness at all, as in prostitution say, or a wife performing her conjugal duties with due reluctance, or confusion.

Woman: You're thinking of teen brides.

Man: Or pre-teen brides in certain cultures.

Woman: Yes, it's a horrible shame. It's like abuse of the greatest force for good in the world.

Man: You what?

Woman: Sex. Don’t you think it’s the greatest force for good in the world?

Man: Queer way of thinking about it.

Woman: It’s the best way.

Man: Perhaps we should be moving beyond good and evil. Of course it’s better than thinking of it as the sin of fornication, but too much of a good thing… I mean, I love a good wine, but if I drank half a dozen bottles a day I’d be good for nothing wouldn’t I?

Woman: You’re right, the best sex should be savoured, swilled around the palate…

Man: Weighed droplet by droplet upon the tongue.

Woman: Inhabited.

Man: Better than inhibited. Your breasts are… unobtrusively perfect.

Woman: Pert is the usual term.

Man: Yes, you have the most pertinent titties I’ve come across.

Woman: Hang on, you haven’t come across them yet.

Man: All in good time my love.

happiness rising

2008-05-04T20:09:00.003+09:30

[She guides him into her, and they fuck slowly, and then faster. She sits up, tugging at her titties. After some time, during which she moans and groans more and more loudly, she stops, and smiles down at him].

Man: Are you... you haven't?

Woman: Oh no, I haven't. [She writhes in circles]. Don't worry. It's nice.

[He raises himself up. They kiss, and kiss].

Man: You'll tell me...

Woman: Tell you?

Man: What you want. Anything you want. [He kisses her neck, fondles and kisses her breasts]

Woman: [sighing] I want you just where you are.

[They fall back together, he rolls on top of her, pulls up her legs and thrusts into her. They moan loudly together, both ending in a laugh. Still for a moment, they stare happily at each other, then the thrusting begins again. It lasts for a long time, until his expression changes, his mouth drops open. Seeing this, she shouts 'yes, yes, come in me, come in me', and lifts herself to open herself more, and thrusts and thrashes. He comes, shuddering, and shuddering. Then, toying with her clitoris, she too comes, loudly. They lie panting side by side, and then she moves onto his penis, kissing it and licking the moisture that covers it. Finally she comes back to him, snuggling into his arms].

Man: Well, that was pleasant. Or should I say, that was pleasant. Now I suppose I should be running along. If I had a watch I’d be looking at it now. If I had a cigarette I’d be smoking it.

Woman: [smiling] Shut up.

Man: I’m very grateful. And happy.

Woman: It was a pleasant start.

Man: A happy few minutes. No, more than a few minutes. Knowing you has been an entirely happy experience so far.

Woman: That’s a challenge. I wonder if I can keep it up. [She reaches down to his still-erect cock and blows gently on it, licking its tip].

Man: Mmmm, oh yes. Happiness is an erect penis. I wish it was that simple.

Woman: Maybe it is. [She takes his penis deep into her mouth. He watches her, and then leans back, basking in sensation. Then, torn between watching and feeling, he raises his head again. He strokes her thighs distractedly, plays with her cunt lips as she obligingly opens her legs, but he’s more concentrated on what she’s doing, and gives himself up to this again, watching her, blissfully amazed, her form and face, her mouth, her cheek pushed out by his cock.. His thighs begin to jerk up into her face, he looses another load, noisily. Smiling languidly, she displays to him her jism-pasted tongue ].

Man: [laughing] Come here.

[They kiss passionately, devouringly, pressing so hard that they gasp and squeal, and then slackening into a slow, absorbed exploration of each others’ faces. Then they lie back, separate].

Woman: It still seems to be erect.

Man: Happiness is not an erect penis.

Woman: No?

Man: You’re a woman. Is happiness an erect penis for you?

Woman: Happiness is ma man’s erect penis, man.

Man: I’m sure I’ve been happy without an erect penis. Therefore happiness and an erect penis are not truly identical.

Woman: You’re right. Because I’ve also experienced happiness without an erect penis.

Man: [laughing] Though I must admit that, for me at least, having an erect penis does help.

talk v action

2008-04-23T08:48:00.003+09:30

Man: Are you kidding me?

Woman: Well, I suppose it's a bit cruel, after - how many years did you say? We could talk while fucking, that'd be - strange, a bit unromantic maybe. How about tantric sex?

Man: [laughing] No, I meant are you kidding me about sex being your life's work. What's that supposed to mean?

Woman: Ohhh! Well don't worry, I wasn't talking about prostitution. More ethology, really.

Man: Ethology? That's animal behaviour isn't it?

Woman: Yes, I study it. I'm very much at the shallow end currently, but I'd very much like to study the sexual and social behaviour of bonobos in the field one day. That's if I can tear myself away from the sex life of another animal. Namely me.

Man: Bonobos, yes, I've read a bit about them.

Woman: Yes, a sexy topic in more ways than one. You don't mind holding off for a bit?

Man: Welll. When a beautiful naked woman asks a sex-starved male who's probably suffering a mid-life crisis to talk rather than fuck, well, I'm not sure how to take that.

Woman: [smiling] You're right. [She puts a finger to her lips, then to his, helps him out of the rest of her clothing, and leads him into her bedroom].

Man: [laughing] Mirrors everywhere. Of course.

Woman: Of course. You don't mind?

Man: Well, if I could obtain one percent of the pride and pleasure from looking at my body as I do from looking at yours, I'd delight in them.

Woman: Well, lie down and let's have a look at you. [She massages his belly, kisses and rubs her face into it]. You think you're fat?

Man: Oh yes. Morbidly obese. I'm fat and I wanna die.

Woman: [laughing] Come on, be serious.

Man: I need to lose about seven or eight kilos. More importantly, I'm out of condition and I hate exercise. Even though half an hour's exercise a day might increase my number of sexual partners. This little muscle here gets plenty of exercise though.

Woman: Well, I know what you mean about exercise. Look at this [she pinches out a roll of belly flesh]. I walk to uni and I cycle to work, and I’m a member of a gym, but I hate going there.

Man: You do a lot better than me. I like to bushwalk sometimes...

Woman: Really? That sounds good. Maybe you could take me along?

Man: Okay. Sure. I think I might bush-walk a bit more regularly from now on.

Woman: Good. Might increase your number of sexual partners.

Man: Right. To one.

Woman: [laughing] I think I need to introduce you to some of my girlfriends.

Man: [laughing] Oh God.

Woman: Too much of a good thing, eh?

Man: I can't think about that right now. I'm still thinking about the bushwalking. Doing it behind the bushes. All full of Benny Hill images is my mind.

[She smiles and stretches out on top of him. They kiss langorously]

Woman: By the way, I'm very health-conscious. I get myself checked out regularly. For diseases. I'm clean, okay? And I'm on the pill.

talk, action and more talk

2008-04-21T01:05:00.003+09:30

Man: So, presumably my take on the world must've appealed to you?

Woman: I found it very stimulating. you're a good writer. you should do it professionally.

Man: I wish. There are a lot of good writers in the blogosphere, and to judge from their prolific output, they're not making any money from writing either. I only write about three or four pieces a week, some guys write about ten times that. And I imagine they have full time jobs, and families to take care of, just to show me up. And they write so expertly about their subjects. I don't know anything much about anything, I write only in order to find out things. Ultimately in order to make myself a better person. To incorporate more of the world into myself. Then again, I read on the net somewhere that Sartre said that all his writings were attempts to increase his number of sexual partners.

Woman: [laughing] Well, there's two great reasons for writing, and not incompatible. Let's fuck. I can feel you're ready for it.

Man: You're very kind.

Woman: [kissing him, removing his shirt] No baby, I'm very selfish. I want, I want, I want.

Man: Well, you're giving my flagging ego a great boost.

Woman: Oh come on, that's no way to talk when someone's taking your clothes off.

Man: Mmm, people don't usually talk much in these situations, and I never talk much anyway, but something about you loosens my tongue.

Woman: Well, I think your tongue should be otherwise engaged. [She now has him fully reclined under her on the sofa, and pushes her cunt against his lips. He sups at the font while she moans and fondles her breasts. After a few minutes she releases herself from him, and moves down to remove his trousers. She fondles and licks and sucks his cock. They explore each other in punctuated silence for some time].

Man: Are you... I don't have a condom. I don't carry them, you know.

Woman: [smiling] I have plenty, if you need one.

Man: I... I've been celibate for years. I don't sleep around much, I just wank like crazy. I mean, I don't sleep around at all.

Woman: Well you won't be needing a condom then, if that's true.

Man: Oh believe me, it's true. It's not something I'm proud of.

Woman: So how long has it been?

Man: It has been eight years. And that was a one-night stand. And then another six years, and that was a pretty intense sexual relationship that lasted about three months. And then another ten years to a few random and generally inept teen fucks. I lost my virginity at sixteen, so I thought I was headed for a great sex life.

Woman: Well, I win, I lost mine at fifteen. And I knew what I was doing. More or less. I was on the pill. But I didn't really get to enjoy sex until years later. I mean, I enjoyed it, but not the way I enjoy it now. I didn't really explore its full possibilities. Now it's my life's work. Hey, let's talk for a while. Do you mind?

Mata Hari

2008-04-16T23:19:00.004+09:30

[The man, left alone, opens the kitchen cupboards, finds glasses, checks out some of the wall hangings and photographs, the CD player, furnishings, layout. He takes out the chardonnay, pours it]
Woman: [naked] This has always been a favourite of mine. A bit lived-in looking, but comfy.
Man: I suddenly feel over-dressed. Don't you feel a bit, uhhh..
Woman: Cold? Yes, I'll just turn up the heat a little. Look, my nipples are like little stones.
Man: Yes, quite hard.
Woman: Now where's that drink? Mmm. You feeling at home? Time for some music. I need a bit of exercise. Bebop. You don't mind if I do my Mata Hari thing? You know Mata Hari?
Man: Vaguely.
Woman: [dancing suggestively, slowly, sometimes jerkily, on her knees, arching her back, shaping and shifting her arms and hands]: She was a lover, above all a lover. She was destroyed for being a lover, for being trusting as all lovers must be. But men ruled the world, warmongering men, and they trusted nothing, especially not love. But really, I barely know a thing about her.
Man: I must say, I'm struggling to maintain all this.
Woman: All what?
Man: All this sophistication I suppose.
Woman: Sophistication... Sophistication... [she now has her arms wrapped around him] I thought you were just being you.
Man: Well, I suppose I am, but I have to tell you, I've not exactly been successful with the ladies in my time. I've become sort of convinced that I don't have that je ne sais quoi that attracts the opposite sex [he gently kisses and strokes her breasts, neck and face]. So your picking me up like this has come as a more than pleasant surprise. I bit of a shock in fact. So, why?
Woman: Well, I have to admit, you're not a complete stranger to me. I've been reading your blog.
Man: Have you?
Woman: Oh yes. Let's see, the Iraq War, Howard's foreign policy, global warming, solar energy, movie reviews, book reviews, the psychology of religion... You cover quite a lot of ground.
Man: [stunned, he has stopped fondling her]. My god. How did you know... I mean, how did you find out?
Woman: Well, the blog's got your name on it. And your picture.
Man: Yes, but nobody visits it, and how would you have known...?
Woman: Contacts.
Man: So. You didn't leave any comments.
Woman: I considered it, but I thought I'd surprise you instead.
Man: This doesn't quite make sense. You don't know my name and you wouldn't recognise me from my picture.
Woman: Okay, I'll explain everything. You go regularly to the Royal, right?
Man: Not that regularly.
Woman: Okay, you go not that regularly to the Royal. And so do I. Sometimes you're there alone, sometimes with a friend. You know who I mean?
Man: Yes.
Woman: Well, I met him a while back. His name's Richard, right?
Man: Yes.
Woman: We talked about you. He told me about your blog. He told me how to find it, and I looked it up. The rest, as they say, is history.

the spinster pad

2008-04-15T21:11:00.001+09:30

Woman: Welcome to my spinster pad.
Man: [smiling, looking around] Spinster pad. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it?
Woman: Presumably it has something to do with old maids and their spinning wheels.
Man: Spinning wheel, wasn't there a fairy story about one of those? Something to do with a prick as I recall.
Woman: Yeah, well, some spinsters get all the pricks.
Man: Now, is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Woman: You likea my place?
Man: Compact, yet elegant.
Woman: The challenge of urbanity. I love it.
Man: I believe it was Picasso who said that good taste is the enemy of creativity.
Woman: Why do you say that?
Man: I'm a little wary of too much good taste. I used to know a woman who was obsessed with Good Taste, capital G, capital T. She was a snob, in short. Came from a working class background, and hated the fact. Surrounded herself with beautiful things, wore beautiful clothes. Not a creative bone in her body.
Woman: You knew her well?
Man: Everyone's a mystery to me.
[The woman's mobile rings]
Woman: Hi Jass. Where are you? Uhh right. Ohhh right. No, I'm otherwise engaged. Well, I'll be frying other fish tonight. Oh god, you're incorrigible, girl. I don't want to scare him away. No, to be honest I doubt if he'd be all that scared, but all that in good time. Have a good one. Ring me tomorrow, we'll compare notes. Sexpo's coming up soon. Annie wants to go, we'll make a fun threesome. Tra la la.. [she sighs, looks up at him]. Now, where were we?
Man: Mystery, sexpo... Your flat, actually.
Woman: I've only been here six months, but it's my pride and joy.
Man: You own it?
Woman: You kidding? I work in a pub. As little as I can get away with.
Man: Really. What pub?
Woman: The Wheatsheaf. A nice little alternative place in the inner burbs.
Man: I know it. So how can you afford this?
Woman: Contacts. It's community housing but don't ask me to explain. My whole family's into it. We've planned for being secure in this sort of housing since almost before I was born, so we could lives of leisure and reflection.
Man: Sounds very attractive. I don't quite get it though.
Woman: Another mystery.
Man: I live in a poky little flat at the back of a rambling mansion. Looks like the Addams family home, bats in the belfry, strange shrieks in the night. Used to be the servants quarters. They've given me a kind-hearted deal on the place, but it won't last forever. I should get some advice on this stuff.
Woman: Sure, but you realize now's not the time.
Man: Of course.
Woman: I think it's time I slipped into something more comfortable.
Man: Wow. Did you really say that?
Woman: There's a fine bottle of chardonnay in the fridge. Pour me a glass.
Man: Where do you keep your glasses?
Woman: I'm sure you can find them.
Man: Sure. And you can't find anything without your glasses, right?
Woman: See you soon.

a friendly dispute

2008-04-09T12:12:00.001+09:30

Woman: You said you were kissing them.

Man: Yesss. Leading them astray. I knew exactly what I was doing. You see I was quite a pretty young teenager myself. I was slight and slim and my skin was clear. I half saw myself as a girl. I thought a lot about androgyny, before I knew the word. But then at seventeen I had a sniff of success with the opposite sex, and I never looked at my own sex the same way again.

Woman: What never?

Man: No never.

Woman: What never?

Man: Well, hardly ever. So, this is the place.

Woman: No. Don't open that door. There's something fundamentally erotic about a man, a woman, and a confined space, don't you think?

Man: Go on.

Woman: Well... It's like a writer, who creates a tight framework for a novel, so as to channel his, ummm, creative juices.

Man: You're a writer?

Woman: No, no. I'm not a writer.

Man: Mmmm. Nevertheless...

Woman: Please, please, don't open that door. It's cold out there. Come here and feel the warmth [she begins to loosen her top].

Man: [smiling] Is this a power struggle we're having here? Here I am in front of the mystery of your home. I want to see it. I want to know you.

Woman: [exposing and stroking her breasts] Well, here I am, all that's most dear to me. You can know me here.

Man: Yes, yes, very biblical. [He addresses her breasts, but seems determined not to succumb to them] This is very interesting. We're in my car, which is exotic to you, boring to me. I'm trying to get you into your flat, which is boring to you exotic to me. But your car is guaranteed to be more spacious and comfortable than this car, so I win. Come on.

Woman: I like that [tucking her breasts back into her top], yes sir, I like a bit of forcefulness in a man. And yet...

Man: [smiling] And yet?

Woman: We're now walking away from the fuck we never had. In your car. Have you ever fucked anyone in your car?

Man: No - but I feel as if I'm walking away from the pain in the back I never had. From the deadleg I never had.

Woman: Ha ha, yes, very good. Very sensible. But – wouldn’t you like to fuck a woman in your car?

Man: Yes, I would. I'd also like to be twenty years old again, knowing what I know now.

Woman: Okay. End of subject.

Man: I presume you've enjoyed a few car fucks in your time?

Woman: I have actually. And I got bruised and sore, but, yeah, they were great. The thing is - it's a mundane observation but every decision made is so many decisions not made. A decision to do x is a decision not to do abc etcetera. I mean, we may end up fucking in your car, but we'll never have our first fuck in it. Assuming we have more than one. That opportunity has been foregone.

Man: All right. Do you want to go back to the car?

Woman: No no, of course not. No going back.

the ride home

2008-04-07T01:43:00.001+09:30

Man: I feel a bit overwhelmed here.

Woman: You do?

Man: I like to be on top of things, you know?

Woman: You wanna be on top?

Man: [smiling] A man likes to be on top of situations.

Woman: You know, so does a woman. Big problem.

Man: You're already on top. Of things.

Woman: Don't be too sure.

Man: You're not going to convince me you've never done this sort of thing before. Here's my car.

Woman: If you're feeling nervous, we can take a promenade and parley around these salubrious streets together, get to know each other. Might help you get on top of things.

Man: I am nervous, but it's not that unpleasant.

Woman: I know. I know how you feel. Put your hand here. Can you feel my heart beat?

Man: Well, I can certainly feel something.

Woman: You taste nice.

Man: Let's get in the car.

Woman: Yes sir.

[They get in the car. The woman moves toward the man]

Man: Now, which way... [They kiss]. Oh god... Oh beautiful... beautiful...

Woman: Mmmm. Fuck me, fuck me...

Man: [laughing, excited] I've got to drive.

Woman: Okay, let's calm down. I live back that way. In the city.

Man: In the city? What, right in the city? Isn't that expensive?

Woman: Not for everyone. Believe me, I'm not rich. I was hoping you'd be paying for my services tonight.

Man: You what?

Woman: Straight ahead, I'll tell you when to turn. I was just kidding laddie. Don't lose your... ehh... enthusiasm. Do you mind being interfered with when you drive?

Man: No, please, don't do that. I definitely don't feel on top of things when you do that.

Woman: Okay, I'll behave.

Man: You'd think we were a couple of teens.

Woman: Unfortunately I don't recall ever behaving this way as a teenager. It took me years to throw off my inhibitions - to go after what I really wanted and to grab it. So to speak. Turn left at the next lights please sir.

Man: Yeah, well, I was certainly no precocious teenager as far as sex was concerned. At least not with girls.

Woman: Well, now, there's a revealing remark. Please go on.

Man: Well, by the age of seventeen, I'd kissed more boys than girls. Not that I'd kissed too many of either sex. It's funny though, looking back. I don't have the least sexual attraction to males now.

Woman: Teenage boys can be very pretty. Next on the right.

Man: Well, that's exactly it. The boys could be as pretty as the girls, and you didn't have to climb over any sexual barriers to communicate with them. I mean, you played soccer and cricket with them, you wrestled with them, you got them in headlocks, or more often with me, they got me in headlocks. You got off on their sweat, you know? I knew the smell of their armpits, their groins.

Woman: Hey, here, this is the place. So what were you doing sniffing at your friends' groins?

Man: Oh, come on, it was innocent largely. But I'm sure some of them were asking the same questions.

the pick-up

2008-04-04T11:32:00.000+10:30

Woman: Hello.

Man: Hi

Woman: So. Why are you here?

Man: Uhhh. Just passing?

Woman: Just passing? [Pause] Just walking by? Driving by?

Man: Well.. driving, actually, but I don’t live too far away.

Woman: So, this is your local? You should walk.

Man: [smiling] I was on my way home, thought I’d drop in. I don’t think of it as my local really, but it’s nearby, it’s nice. Friendly atmosphere.

Woman: So, that’s what you come for? The friendly atmosphere?

Man: Well, you seem very friendly. Curious anyway.

Woman: You think I’m being too inquisitive?

Man: No, no. It’s a bit unusual, but I could get used to it.

Woman: Have you ever been picked up by a woman?

Man: Uhh, picked up?

Woman: Come on, you know what I mean.

Man: No, no I haven’t.

Woman: The world is changing.

Man: Sounds good. Not before time.

Woman: Yeah, sex is a funny thing isn’t it?

Man: Hilarious.

Woman: Do you ever come here hoping to pick someone up?

Man: Well, I’m not much chop at seducing women. I suppose it’s there though. The hope. I try not too think about it too much.

Woman: So what do you think about, when you’re here?

Man: My life. The world. I have arguments in my head with people. And for relief I focus on the beautiful women working the bar. Or other beauties.

Woman: So that’s what you come here for. To have a pleasant background to your thoughts. Like computer wallpaper.

Man: [laughs] Yeah, maybe. Only this is all real. Real live people. With homes to go to, boyfriends to love or contend with. It’s interactive. See that bar worker over there? She smiled at me when she went by a little while ago. I don’t know how many times I’ve been here, but she’s never smiled at me before. It’s a tiny little happiness. That’s very important. Think how much happiness and despair can hang on a smile, a hardening of the features, a sneer, a well or badly-placed yawn.

[Pause]

Woman: Would you like to drive me home? It’s not far I promise. We could continue our discussion there. It’s very interesting. Sorry I can’t bring the wallpaper with me. She’s very attractive.

Man: Yes, I think so.

Woman: Maybe next time. So what do you say?

Man: I say thanks very much. It’s the best offer I’ve had all day, and I gladly accept. I wonder though, why you’ve made it.

Woman: Well, let’s say I think you’ve passed the test, as I thought you would. Or let’s say you’ve passed one test. The tests go on indefinitely of course. Helps us to keep producing our best. Excuse me, I’ll just say goodbye to my friends.

[Pause. The man stands at the bar, watching the woman talk to a couple at a nearby table. The couple laugh loudly. He turns to the bar, and the women working behind it. He lifts his wine-glass, to finish the last mouthful, then changes his mind, puts it down and pushes it away. He notices the attractive bar-worker watching him].