Sensuous

1 April — Thursday

Well, let’s try it again.

I must really be flipping out completely. I got the basic idea for that last entry this afternoon in the office and went into a giggling fit right there at my desk. I sat down and wrote that the minute I got back here, and it kept getting more elaborate as it went along. I kept breaking myself up as I wrote, and when I was finished I read the whole thing through from beginning to end and kept giggling like an idiot.

Then I went over and lifted the radiator cover and added the pages to the stack. A rather thick stack it is, too. And I closed the radiator cover and sat around and laughed some more.

But what kind of a lunatic plays elaborate practical jokes on a typewriter?

I went out and had dinner and came back here, and realized I wanted very much to write about last night with Bill. But I had made a rule — no days without some sort of entry, and no more than one entry a day.

I can’t honestly believe I went through such a mental tug-of-war with myself over this point. I had to convince myself that the first entry, being a gag, was in a sense not a real entry at all, and that it was thus fitting and proper for me to continue writing. Then other questions came up. Should I throw out the gag entry? Should I begin the real entry on the same sheet of paper that I ended the gag entry on? Finally I realized that I was playing idiotic mind games about nothing at all, so I made a cup of coffee and had a cigarette and let my head knit itself back together again, or as close to together as it ever is.

I wore the hot pants last night. Might not have done this if I had known Bill was going to take me out. Felt very funny wearing them in public.

Felt very funny being in public.

Met me on the sidewalk in front of his building. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going out for a change.”

“Where?”

“To see a movie.”

I was disappointed. Instant paranoia — he decided he didn’t want to have any kind of sex with me, so he was taking me to a movie rather than sending me home right off the bat. Instead he got into a cab with me and we rode up to Times Square and went to a porno film.

“They have better films than the ones I have. I was going to show you one tonight and thought they would be so much better at one of the porno theaters. More attractive people, better production values, a big screen instead of a little screen. Unless you’re nervous about seeing one in public.”

“I’m terrified.”

“Too terrified?”

“No. I think more excited than terrified. The times I’ve wanted to go, but a girl can’t go alone.”

“Ever try?”

“Do girls ever go alone?”

“I knew one who said she did. I think she was telling the truth.”

“Well, this girl couldn’t go alone.”

Nervous to begin with, just walking with him in my hot pants outfit. Men really ogling me on the street, looking me up and down. I do get a kick out of this, though. I’ve thought from time to time that a voyeur has to be an exhibitionist as well. If you want to see you also want to show, although you may not have the nerve for it.

Thought I’d be apprehensive about entering the theater but Bill was so matter-of-fact about it that it didn’t bother me in the least. Pitch dark in there. My eyes take their time adjusting to sudden darkness, and I couldn’t see what seats were occupied and what ones were empty. Bill led me. We sat about five rows from the back of the theater. I don’t think there were more than twenty-five rows in all.

When my eyes got accustomed to the darkness I could see the men in the audience. I didn’t see a single woman. The theater was about half-full and the audience looked like a checkerboard. We were the only two people sitting together, as far as I could tell. Everyone else had an empty seat on either side of him.

Enormously exciting.

Not just the movies, although they were even more exciting that I had dared hope.

But even more exciting was the situation. Being there in the darkness in the midst of all those men. All those men seated like checkers. All those men with their coats on their laps so that they could masturbate in relative invisibility. And I the only woman in the audience, and sitting not alone but with a man.

The pictures were ten-minute shorts. Some had no sound tracks and the theater played records as background music. Others had dialogue but they must have added it afterward, because one actress was supposedly saying something like “Oh, this is so good, this is so good,” and she had her mouth stuffed full of cock at the time and couldn’t possibly have done more than grunt incoherently.

After awhile there was a sameness to the films. I began to see the actors as actors. I wonder what a really great pornographic film would be like. One with a story and good dialogue and good acting and real characters and the same kind of hard-core fucking and sucking.

I think it might be fantastic.

When the films stopped being as exciting as they had been, I thought of something and decided I wanted to do it. I thought of all the reasons why it was an unwise thing to do, and they made me want to do it all the more. The element of danger was an added thrill.

So what I did was planned. I thought it over very carefully first. Unlike the time when I first took hold of his cock, when it just happened without thought or volition.

I put my hand on the front of his pants and touched him. He had a sort of half hard on. I gave it a brief squeeze, then opened his zipper and took his cock out. He drew in his breath sharply — I think I actually shocked him, and know for sure I surprised the hell out of him.

I played with him, and then with total abandon I put my head in his lap and sucked him off. Knowing that the men on either side could turn and watch us. Knowing, and actually hoping they would do it.

He came very quickly. I guess he was stimulated by the circumstances just as I was.

I came, too.

And swallowed, and licked my lips, and sat up straight again and looked at the screen. If anyone saw what I was doing, they stopped watching by the time I sat up.

I sat there looking at the screen and felt the most self- satisfied grin spread over my face. I felt like the cat who had swallowed — well, not exactly the canary.

After a few minutes I turned to Bill and suggested that we leave. He nodded and took my arm and led me out of there. Outside I asked him if he had gone to those movies with girls before. He said yes. I asked if any of them had ever done that to him before. He said no, and started to say something else, and then didn’t.

We didn’t go back to his place. We went to Howard Johnson’s for fried clams, established that the bit in the theater would be an impossible act to follow, and agreed to share a cab. He said he would drop me first. I said no, I would rather drop him first. Still not wanting him to know where I live. He looked at me and I thought he was going to be irritated, but instead his face showed mild amusement. What makes me so comfortable with him is that he treasures me for all the things that are so wrong with me. If I ever get rid of my hangups I suspect he’ll find me rather less fascinating.

I have tonight’s bedtime fantasy planned. Jennifer is an innocent girl from Iowa who goes out to Hollywood to become an actress, and without realizing it she gets into a porno film.

Now there’s one with possibilities.

As for today, nothing happened. Mr. Karlman didn’t even come into the office today.

Horrible idiot thought I’m almost scared to type. Suppose he didn’t come in because his wife actually did drop dead during the night?

I sincerely wish I hadn’t just thought of that.