the god of wine and revelry, of ascendling life, of joy in action,
of escetic emotion and inspiration, of instince and adventure and dauntless
suffering, the god of song and music and dance and drama... fecundity...
power... erotic instinct... passion... sensuality... war... perversity...
desire.... potency... obsession... pleasure...
"The lunch was a turning point.
It made clear - to both of us - that my life was split, neatly in two:
day and night; with him / without him. And that it was a mistake and
possibly dangerous to mix the two. Day by day, week by week, the two
segments of my life edged into an increasingly complete balance. The
clearer, the more focused, the more 'fantastic' our evenings became,
the more did my my working life slip into fantasy... The reality of my
days was replaced by surface equanamity and a blandness to the core.
My lunches bland, going past me unnoticed, mingling bland and friendly
people - friends, clients colleagues, all the same. Every day a different
movie, none burdened by plot, or only toying with a plot so languid as
to reveal no connections, no power to engage me beyond its agreeable
surface; always only hours away from reality, taking time-out from what
counted, what really went on in my life; a breathing spell from the exhilarating
and inexorable plot unfolding at night.
The nights were palpable and fierce,
razors, outlined so clearly as to be luminous. A different country,
its currency and landscape plain: heat, fear, cold, pleasure, hunger,
glut, pain, desire, overwhelming lust."
9 1/2 Weeks
"...It transpires, it blazes. I cannot conceal it. I am a woman. A man
has made me submit. Oh, the joy when a woman finds a man she can submit
to, the joy of her femaleness expanding in strong arms... I want you
to be there wherever you are. Lying next to you even if you are asleep.
Henry, kiss my eyelashes, put your fingers on my eyelids. Bite my ear.
Push back my hair. I have learned to unbutton you so swiftly. All, in
my mouth, sucking. Your fingers. The hotness. The frenzy. Our cries of
satisfaction. One for each impact of your body against mine. Each blow
a string of joy. Driving in a spiral. The core touched. The womb sucks,
back and forth, open, closed. Lips flickering, snakes tongues flickering.
Ah, the rupture - a blood cell burst with joy. Dissolution... Henry told
me, "At first I though you so fragile that if I were rough you would
break; but now I see how strong you are and that you can take the most
pleasure with me at my most intense!"... I hold my legs wide apart in
love-making instead of, as before, closed..."
Henry & June