In that room there was a bed and a wooden table, perhaps the table was not a table but a desk, a bed ...
A table or desk, and on the wall, the wall against which the bed was pushed, a picture tagged to the wall with punaises, a glossy representation of a sexy scene advertising a play, a movie, a spectacle of sorts, depicting a nude pale female body, long and slim, stretched on a couch in rumpled sheets, a voluptuous young woman with black hair, her left hand suspended in mid-air reaching for her breasts, her right hand touching between her thighs ...
And in that room of light, with the bed, the table, and the sexy picture on the wall, there I replayed the fear in the closet, I saw myself crouched like a sphinx defecating on an old newspaper, and I burst into laughter, the laugh laughing at the laugh, laughing at myself , and I knew then that it would have to be written, from the light of the bedroom rather than from the darkness of the toilet, I understood this as I stood naked between the bed and the desk looking at the naked girl in the picture and reached with one hand for my head, and with the other for my cock.
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Amerika, also try this:
Copyright © 1996 Raymond Federman