I WANT A WOMAN

I am alone, a stranger in a strange city. I see women all around me, passing on the streets, but they are all strangers. Among them are painted faces and glances of invitation, but I do not want a whore, a drunken, diseased thing; I want a clean, wholesome, laughter-loving woman with a taste for a little adventure with a clean, wholesome man.

I am a clean, wholesome man. I have batted around a bit, but I have kept my self-respect and have had nothing to do with the filth of prostitutes. I have kept free from all their uncleanness and disease. But I have a man’s appetite for a woman’s body, and have loved from time to time many women who have felt free to love me and to take the pleasure I could give them by the freedom of their bodies to give me pleasure, too. I have found them charming women, too, and quite able to maintain their positions as ladies, yes, and as good wives and mothers, too, in some cases,  while doing as they pleased in the matter of getting a little extra enjoyment out of life by a night or two with me now and then.

I have been months now without the sight of a woman except in public places. I have been continent too long; I want a woman all to myself to play with, to have play with me, to enjoy, and to give pleasure to. I find myself lying awake at night thinking about the kind of a woman I should enjoy. I do not want a child, or a young girl, or a virgin. I do not like green fruit. I have heard of men who enjoy nothing but virgins, but that always seemed to me a perverted taste. A young girl’s maidenhood should be taken from her only under the most romantic circumstances, in the tender flush of young love, otherwise she is spoiled forever. For a full-grown man to take maidenheads, captured or bought for the purpose, is gross brutality. I have taken but one in my life, and that was my wife’s, and I do not recall that I , or she either, got much pleasure from the taking of it.

No, I want a woman whose virginity is gone; who is ripe for love, with enough experience to meet a man part way in the game. A woman about twenty-five (I  am forty), a young wife or widow, or a bachelor-maid who has not ruined her physical life by prizing virgin­ity too highly; preferably one who has not borne children, who has kept the firm breasts of the young childless woman.

Well, suppose I have her, bow would I wish to take her? I’ll tell you. Assuming that we have become acquainted to the point at which we begin to understand each other, at which she begins to feel that I  desire more of her than just her company to dinners and dances, and I begin to see that she is willing to give me more... assuming, then, that we understood each other, I would ask her to dine with me, and after making it quite clear (in a delicate way, of course) during our dinner that I  was anxious to know her better, I would have her dance with me. In dancing it is possible for a man and woman to exchange certain confidences without saying a word. Being assured by certain little answering pressures when I pressed her a little closely in the dance that she was willing to go further, I would suggest a taxi drive, and in the taxi would try her out further by a few gentle caresses. If she permits my hand to clasp her leg above the knee, if she will allow me to draw her to me and kiss her, and if she gives me back an open-mouthed kiss, it only remains o set the date for a night of more intimate delights.

I have a very secluded little bungalow in which, when the time comes, I  bring her very discreetly after dark, in my own machine. She takes off her cloak and I lead her into my living room, where there is cheerful log fire burning, with a great, comfortable couch in front of it. She is just a little excited, perhaps; and I bring cocktails. Now it is a fact that I like a woman just a little bit tipsy, not drunk, but with three or four drinks in her so that she is the least bit intoxicated. I usually find it easy to get them to that point if they come with me at all; they will drink and enjoy it.

As we sit side-by-side drinking our cocktails or high-balls, I allow myself some familiar caresses with kisses. She answers readily to the kisses and soon responds warmly to the caresses. If she is just about drunk enough it will be fun now to put my hand on her bosom and feel her breasts, firm, well-rounded, delicious to the touch, while kissing her ardently. I then unfasten her clothing so that her breasts are exposed. Wonderful things, a woman’s breasts, round, soft, white with beautiful rosy nipples, warm, delicate! I love them more than any other part of a woman. I sometimes think that I could get entire satisfaction form a woman’s breasts. I confess I have never tried it, as I have never had to stop there. In fact, if a man gets to the point of having a woman bare her breasts to him he will not be allowed to stop there!

There she lies on a corner of my couch in the firelight, her clothing disordered, her breasts in my hands, beneath my lips. I kiss them and nibble until she begins to stir with desire. Her hands caress my bead, she lies back with her eyes closed, little tremors go through her, and she begins to murmur terms of endearment. I can now assure her that I love her, and I do so, in ardent terms, molding her breasts with my hands and covering her lips with kisses. She returns the kisses with wet, outturned lips against mine, her hands hold my hand and press them against her breasts, and she returns my words of love.

Pressed against her as she lies back the pillows in the comer of the couch, I put my hand beneath her skirt. I clasp her calf, her knees... I stroke and fondle her leg higher... higher, and if her drawers are of the lacy, open kind I soon have my hand on her naked thigh. Continuing to kiss her madly and press against her, I fondle and caress the warm, soft skin up her thigh to her hip, then across her abdomen until my fingers reach the soft, curly hair that grows there. Tickling and lightly touching the soft curls, my fingers proceed gradually, gently, down between her legs and touch and caress her there until of her own accord she parts her legs a little and lets my whole hand find and clasp what is between them.

Alter a few minutes’ delicious play of fingers there, during which she lies quite passive except for the uninterrupted sucking of her kisses and an occasional pressure of her hands, I begin with one hand to undo my clothing. As soon as she sees my purpose, she begins to loosen hers. I leave her now; her adoring eyes follow me as I mix another drink and bring it to her. This is a stiff one, but she drinks it off thirstily. Then I draw her to her feet and whisper to her that I want her naked. I lead her to a screened corner, and returning to the couch lay off my own clothes and sit down to wait...

 Anaïs Nin and Friends