Fascination Read Free

afternoon sun obliquely struck the venerable buildings, picking out the detailing of the stonework with admirable clarity. The razored lawn was immaculate, perfectly striped, unbadged by weed or daisy, almost indecently, absurdly green. I realized that I hated old buildings, hated honey-coloured crafted stone, hated scholarship, hated arrogant young dons with their superior ways. So much hate, I reflected, as I crossed Magdalen Bridge, can’t be good for one. The leaves of my chapter helixed gently down on to the turbid brown waters of the Cherwell.
PLAY
    I walk through Felicia’s neat, bright house trying to imagine myself here. Where would my things go? Where would my desk be? Everything is neat, neat, neat, everything is tidy and neat. Even the cuddly toys on her bedcover are neatly arranged in descending order of size. Predictably, I search her laundry basket for a pair of soiled knickers to masturbate into but find only tights, cut-off jeans and a rugby shirt – and somehow the auto-erotic moment is gone. Dutifully, I feed her dazzling, frondy fish, trying to analyse what I felt for Felicia, with her decency, her baffling, uncritical devotion, her compartmentalized mind, at once cutesy and clever, our fundamental incompatability… I could just about fit in here, I suppose, but where would baby go?
REWIND
    I was watching
Blade Runner
for about the thirtieth time when Felicia called.
    ‘Hi. What is it?’ I said.
    ‘Just to let you know I landed safely.’
    ‘Oh. Great. Where are you?’
    ‘Singapore. K.L. tomorrow.’
    ‘K.L.?’
    ‘Kuala Lumpur.’
    ‘Why don’t people refer to San Francisco as S.F.? Always wondered about that? ‘’Hey, let’s go to S.F.”’
    ‘Are you all right, Edward?’
    ‘What? Yeah. I think I’m going to abandon my thesis. Concentrate on the novel.’
    ‘That’s wonderful news. Look, I must dash, the car’s waiting. Love you.’
    ‘Bye.’ I put the phone down. ‘Love you.’
PLAY
    Claudia lights my cigarette for me, a gesture that, for some reason, always generates in me a little gut-spasm of lust, a little intestinal writhe.
    ‘You must try some of our English beer,’ I say. ‘Old Fuddleston’s Triple-Brewed Dog-Piss.’
    ‘Oh yeah. I think I stay with vodka.’
    ‘Very wise, Claudia, very wise indeed.’
    We are sitting in a dark booth in a low-beamed smoky pub off Broad Street and I wonder whether I should kiss her now but decide to wait a bit – I’m quite enjoying the sexual sparring.
    ‘So, Eduardo,’ She plumes smoke at the ceiling. Then leans forward far enough so I can see the swell of her small breasts in the scoop of her t-shirt. ‘You write novels. Can I read them?’
    ‘You bet, Claudia. One day.’
FAST FORWARD
    INTERVIEWER : So why settle in BigSur/Sausalito/Arizona/Key West?
    ME : Well, after the divorce, I needed to get out of Britain. I was with Cora-Lee by then and her father offered us the use of his villa/beach hut/ranch. I was in rough shape emotionally and needed peace. Peace of mind. The most valuable commodity on the planet.
    INTERVIEWER : Cora-Lee is substantially younger than you?
    ME : That’s true. But her wisdom is ageless.
SLOW MOTION
    Claudia’s t-shirt comes off easily enough but I’m surprised to see her wearing a tough little sports bra thing with no clasp or hook I tug at a strap I am pretty fucking pissed we’re both pretty fucking pissed all that beer and vodka Jesus how much did we drink I kick off a shoe and hear the zip on Claudia’s jeans zing open she weaves away to the bathroom I haul the rest of my clothes off and slide under the duvet bollock naked I think bollock naked she comes in damn still in the bra thing blue panties not matching she whips the duvet back laughing and shouting at me in Italian
preservativa preservativa
.
PLAY
    As luck would have it, as filthy pigging stinking luck would have it, Prentist the dentist comes through the front door just as Claudia and I are crossing the hall. What sort of