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myself which would answer all of the questions, but I know that it is not that easy and listening to the bland, shrieking confidence of my intonation, so self-righteous that I could cut it, I begin to come to a different perception, and the perception is one of confusion and loss, and finally I fall asleep although not for a long time and not to an easy awakening.

XII
    During one of our afternoons, I ask Virginia to blow me to climax. I confess to her, with some embarrassment, that although my wife is willing to try this she does it so inexpertly that I am unable even to maintain an erection and that never, in my whole life, have I come in a woman’s mouth. “Please,” I say, touched with an awkwardness which I rarely feel with her, “please, I’d really appreciate it if you would.”
    “Oh,” she says, leaning over me, her breasts hobbling, her mouth a thin opening line above mine, “oh you poor dear, you don’t have to beg. No man should ever have to
beg.
See, there’s nothing to it at all.” For the first time she puts her mouth on my genitals, my cock uncoils to readiness, a truly murderous need overtakes me, and before I have even attained control of the situation I find that I am pouring semen into Virginia’s mouth, grunting, feeling my body press into the bed, a high whine somewhere between embarrassment and passion overtaking me. Silent, she wags her head back and forth, motions me to quiet with a gesture and then drains me of every thread of semen, leaving me slack and gasping against the sheets. When she is finished, she smiles carefully at me and goes to the bathroom to do something, comes back and joins me under the sheets, a hand falling across my chest, her mouth curling against my ear. “See,” she says, “it wasn’t so much after all. It’s very simple.”
    I say nothing. I am in a half-sleep. I want to dream the moments away, establish some connection within myself between what has happened and what I thought it may have been like. If I can do this, I will have come one step further toward knowing what kind of person I am. But Virginia is insistent, talkative. This is usually one of her more endearing traits — I cannot bear silences most of the time — and I am in no position to tell her to keep quiet.
    “You have to make a decision, you know,” she says. “This can’t go on. It can’t go on this way at all, we have to reach an understanding.”
    “What understanding?”
    “Your wife. You have to do something about your wife.”
    “I love my wife,” I say and realize that this is true. “My wife has seen me through all ages and stages. There is nothing simple about what we have constructed, where I have come from.”
    “Did your wife ever do this for you?”
    “No,” I say, “but that isn’t the most important thing. The important thing is what you build up through the years; you owe a relationship something, it has dimension you know. Anyway, I don’t know if I liked it.”
    “You wanted it, didn’t you?” she says. “And she wouldn’t do it for you. It’s always going to be this way. You’ve got to make a decision, Walter. Things can’t go on this way; they have to reach some kind of a resolution sooner or later. Try to think of me.”
    “You didn’t have to come to work for me,” I say, “You knew what the situation was. You knew what you were getting involved in. If you don’t like the job, you’ll have to get yourself involved with something less degrading.” This is cruel of me, I know, but I take a certain pleasure in punishing Virginia and never so much pleasure as when she has just seen me in moments of great vulnerability. It is perhaps the only weapon I have, this ability to make her vulnerable emotionally as she renders me helpless sexually. “You didn’t seem to have any objection,” I say.
    “Oh, Walter,” she says, putting her cheek against my neck, raising herself with a slow motion that puts her breasts against my chest, running her