Lust Read Free Page A

hard and rigid.
    The Man pushes on alone. But it can't be good for the woman to stay in this position for long. This position she has in his house. She wriggles and jiggles and has to open her legs somewhat. His teeth pluck at her belly regardless. The Man inhabits a living hell of his own, but there are times when he has to emerge from it and go down into the pastures. The woman resists, but her resistance is doubtless no more than an act, she is welcome to another slap or two if she wants, if she's set on denying the Man's soul its light. A fair amount has been drunk. The Direktor almost spends himself entirely in his
    expensive surroundings, in the gloom of which he rages about the food the woman cooks for him. She does not want to let him in. And he feels so big, as if he were all men in one. Just to unload a little here between the standard lamps would unburden him, after all, he has to bear the burden of many who do nothing but grow like the grass on the riverbank, stupid, never giving a thought to the morrow when they must get up. Hermann. Now, having lifted up his wife out of her shoes, he continues the uplifting experience by straddling her on the living room table. Anyone can look in, anyone can envy the rich the beautiful things they keep hidden away. She is flattened on the table and her breasts, big warm steaming cowpats of breasts, flop apart. The Man lifts his leg in his own garden and then off he goes and lifts it at every corner he comes to, too. Not even the haziest patch of ground is safe from him. It is as normal as erotic love, which has never started a fire in their dry wood, the dryness they are born to but do not want on any account to remain in. No, the Direktor will reply to small ads, to exchange his old Ford for a more up-to-date, more powerful model. If only it weren't for the fear of this most up-to-date of diseases, then there would never be silence in the workshops of the Lord. And in the home too there would be notices on the board: Desire, the white member (of a well-hung parliament). Mighty waves go crashing through Time, and mighty is the foaming desire of men, unceasingly. Far-off places are where they love to roam, but they'll also use what they've got at home. The woman wants to get away, to escape these reeking fetters. She has been drawn forth out of nothingness, out of the void, and every day the Man cancels her with his stamp anew, rendering her null and void. She is lost. Mechanically he flicks the woman's legs over him. Various objects belonging to the child fall off the table and bounce softly on the carpet. The Man is the one who still appreciates classical music. With one arm he reaches forwards and opens up the deck. There's
    a sound of music, the woman puts up with a good deal, mortals live on their wages and work, but, right, music really is an essential part of the experience. The Director's weight keeps the woman down. All he needs to keep down the workers, as they joyfully return from their labour to their leisure, is a signature, he doesn't have to lie upon them. And the sting that hangs by his testicles never sleeps. But in his breast his friends sleep, with whom he used to go to brothels. The woman is promised a new dress as the man rips off his coat and jacket. He is fighting the good fight against alcohol, his tie is twisted into a noose. If I could only have this clad in brand new words this minute! Underhand the Direktor has lit the stereo's fire, and now the music is racing off the turntable and setting the Direktor racing: pick-up arms move forward to play their part, and a Direktor has to got his end away! For his pleasure shall last till you can see the bottom and the poor, drained of love, are sent off the rails and have to take a ride to the labour exchange. For all things shall be everlasting and what's more they shall be indefinitely repeatable, so say the men, and they give a tug at the reins which Mummy once held in her loving hands. Of course you can,