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Quote by Ellen Marie Francisco

“We sleep in spooned positions for most of the night, comforting each other, holding on, not desperately, but with the certainty that we are over, recognizing that our love for each other isn't enough. We wake and something I'd forgotten stirred in me. I reach for him. Kiss him and let him kiss me back. Exploring each other with a recognition I know will comfort me later. And then he's inside me and I remember who we are. There is still love and I can dance this liquid dance and let it move me. He stops, pulls himself away from me, taking my breath with him. He lies there and I feel his tears on my flesh. His tears. All this time together and I had no idea he could cry.”

Quote by Ellen Marie Francisco

Book:Catastrophic Expectations: Sex, Love, and the Pursuit of Marriage
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Catastrophic Expectations: Sex, Love, and the Pursuit of Marriage

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Ellen Marie Francisco

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“This was a new way to do it. We’d just discovered it. Staring into each other’s eyes was another way of keeping them closed, or off the details at hand, anyway. We locked onto each other. Meanwhile the Object was very subtly flexing her legs. I was aware of the mound beneath her cutoffs rising toward me, just a little, rising and suggesting itself. I put my hand on the Object’s thigh, palm down. And as we continued to swing, looking at each other while crickets played their fiddles in the grass, I slid my hand sideways up toward the place where the Object’s legs joined. My thumb went under her cutoffs. Her face showed no reaction. Her green eyes under the heavy lids remained fastened on mine. I felt the fluffiness of her underpants and pressed down, sliding under the elastic. And then with our eyes wide open but confined in that way my thumb slipped inside her. She blinked, her eyes closed, her hips rose higher, and I did it again. And again after that. The boats in the bay were part of it, and the string section of crickets in the baking grass, and the ice melting in our lemonade glasses. The swing moved back and forth, creaking on its rusted chain, and it was like that old nursery rhyme, Little Jack Horner sat in the corner eating his Christmas pie. He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum . . . After the first roll of her eyes the Object resettled her gaze on mine, and then what she was feeling showed only there, in the green depths her eyes revealed. Otherwise she was motionless. Only my hand moved, and my feet on the rail, pushing the swing. This went on for three minutes, or five, or fifteen. I have no idea. Time disappeared. Somehow we were still not quite conscious of what we were doing. Sensation dissolved straight into forgetting.”

SexFirst LoveVirginity
Book:Middlesex
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