The Erotic Potential of my Wife Read Online Free PDF

had the strangeness of collecting appearances of two Poles in novels. Their case seemed especially desperate.
    That night, Hector did some push-ups, surprising his muscles. He slept on his left side, life was going to be simple. The following days, he did pretty well at work, he received encouraging remarks from his superiors, and women’s legs made his heart beat faster. He went to see the secretary without whom he never would have met Marcel, and offered her 142 porcelain spoons, vestiges of his collection. She was very moved, and her emotions spread easily. And it was already the day of the second meeting: Hector, upright, and with a certain pride, announced almost not having thought about collections at all, and he was applauded. There was delight in others’ delight, a real solidarity reigned. After the meeting, Marcel suggested a day trip on Saturday to see the sea. And also to inhale it, said Hector. Yes, to inhale it. In all honesty, Marcel was a bachelor this weekend as Laurence had a ping-pong congress – well, a kind of reunion of ancient ‘pongist’ combatants at a chateau in Sologne.
    Saturday, Marcel was poetic in front of the sea. Contemplation of the horizon was giving his voice wings. You see, Hector, that whale far away, that is your illness … and together, by uniting our spirits, we do everything to attract this whale to the shore … when your illness berths it will be a beached whale. It was so beautiful out that they ate mussels. Marcel ordered champagne even though Hector did not really like champagne. Hector did not want to displease him. Marcel was the kind of person who speaks loudly, and who slaps his friends’ backs. Not having an athlete’s physique, Hector clenched his bum cheeks during these moments of beautiful friendship. During dessert, Marcel asked his new friend how he envisaged his life after collecting. Hector could not imagine anything, and especially not the future. Marcel insisted, and suggested a beautiful life with a dog and a wife. You know, Laurence has pretty friends, you must like athletic women, their backs are a bit too hard, but they’re pretty. If you want, we can introduce you to one. Hector did not want to have wicked thoughts, but it sometimes occurred to him, in the flash of a moment, that Marcel’s life must be seriously boring for him to invest himself so much in his. These were wicked thoughts of course; Marcel was a pure soul.
    Marcel collected hair. Women’s hair, obviously. A lucky man, he rejoiced in having a corner dedicated to his passion in his apartment, and Hector had the privilege of visiting this sacred spot. He overdid his enthusiasm slightly so as not to vex his friend, going as far as adding a few ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’, well executed for a novice of deceit. He resented the pressure on those who are told confidences. It must be noted that a collector is recognisable by the notable lack of interest he holds in others’ collections. In an insidiously friendly way, Marcel was also seeking to test the convalescent Hector. The first piece in the collection, ‘redhead vintage’ 77’ immediately provoked respect. Hector thought that hair without a woman was like a hand without an arm; following the magic of women’s hair leads to a crash in an atrocious void. Hair does not have the right to be an impasse. Marcel launched into an explanation of the ’70s. Let’s listen. He estimated that no other period had been as ‘hair’ as the mid-70s. No one could offer a counterpoint; those years had incontestably been ‘
very
hair’. The
worst
period for the bald. Hector, during the development of the Marcellian theory, remembered his father and his fascination for the moustache.
    Blondes from 1983 and 1984, eternal brunettes from 1988, and the auburns from a few days ago were all perused. Hector, to be courteous, asked him how he had procured all these wonders for himself. Marcel admitted that he had an arrangement with a hairdresser from a