She of the Mountains Read Online Free PDF

were clearly represented. In his spare time, he had been compiling a dictionary of all of her faces:
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  a.     single arched eyebrow: subject is unimpressed, skeptical. If in midst of joke, recognize its failure to be humorous and change subject. If in midst of disagreement, abandon hypothetical data and reframe with fact.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  b.     fluttering eyelashes, eyes widened: subject is in a state of wonderment and will shortly follow with a flurry of questions, but they are mostly rhetorical.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  c.     closed eyes: subject is not necessarily asleep, but rather potentially hyper-awake, as her true vision exists in her mind. Resist feeling neglected; subject is savouring.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  d.
    He had made comments about wanting to see the drawer where her underwear slept and wanting to photograph her nude. This was how he flirted with her—speaking outlandishly to test, push, and flatter, but always meaning it. Perhaps it was those comments that made her now gesture to her chest:
    Do you want to see them?
    Of course I do.
    They are big …
    Of course they are.
    No. Like really big.
    Warnings like this were given because he was gay. In a couple of weeks, he would, in turn, warn her that This is not going to be a conventional relationship , not really knowing what he meant, but trying to create some semblance of self-preservation in the event that he didn’t measure up to the type of boyfriend with which she was better acquainted.
    I’ll admit that Morty really knows what he is doing , she had once mentioned.
    Oh? he had replied, hoping that he sounded adequately interested, which he was. And wasn’t.
    That’s pretty much why I keep dating him.
    He tried to remind himself that her breakup with Morty was evidence that heroic sexual prowess was not paramount for her. But despite a lifetime of primarily female friends and a fondness for all-female-cast films like Boys on the Side and Waiting to Exhale , he was beginning to realize how little he knew about women, particularly about their anatomy. The Women’s Network and its soft but mostly concealing body shots did not prepare him for this moment.
    Her red scooped-neck shirt came off, followed by her black bra. They were big. He didn’t realize just how much work a bra did and felt envious of its duty and intimate proximity to her body. He didn’t want to stare and give her the impression that he was afraid or turned off, so he closed his eyes, cupped her breasts with his hands, and kissed them. He had read in the sex-advicecolumn in Men’s Health that men spent too much time focusing on nipples, so he tried to lavish an equality along the entire breast. He listened closely to the sounds she made as an aural compass to what made her feel good. He listened to the non-vocal cues too, where her body shivered. She also gently directed him, and he was grateful, especially when she guided his hand toward her pussy, an area he did not have the confidence to approach on his own.
    He was intimidated by the secrecy of it, its depth. A penis felt comparatively obvious, an extrovert that just needed constant attention. But once his fingers were inside her, the immeasurable wetness produced waves inside his own body, and he found himself wanting to merge both sensations.
    The first time she came, she laughed uncontrollably, her head tilted back into the pillow and the back of her hand against her forehead.
    Why are you laughing at me?
    I am not …
    Was it … okay? Did I do it right?
    It was great! She laughed again.
    Why are you laughing, then?
    I just feel so fucking happy.
    They were on the floor again, this time at her vacationing friend’s place, when they finally found themselves completely naked, side by side. Floors were easy to access, without parental supervision, and heightened