The Principles and Practices of Seduction. Emily Hahn
right.”
Release her, avoiding all trace of petulance. She can think that over for a while.
7. After a long time, reach for the bottle again.
“Just another little one?”
Of course she doesn’t want to be a complete prig—
“All right. But aren’t you drinking a lot?”
“No. I never take too much.”
There really isn’t much to say. You don’t want conversation; she knows you don’t. She does—or does she? She doesn’t know what she wants, just now. You’ve flustered her and upset her and started her thinking and you aren’t doing anything to help her out. She wonders why you don’t say something. She can’t think of anything to say. She’s thinking too hard of something which you have evidently forgotten. It is almost a relief when you put your arm around her again. Something definite, anyway. Even when you kiss her she doesn’t protest. She thinks that it wasn’t bad anyway; in fact it was a nice kiss—not too long nor too enthusiastic.
And as a matter of fact, this particular subject should not be a connoisseur of kisses. She would like to discuss it. Whenever she has been kissed before, the occasion seemed more momentous, with prelude of conversation and aftermath of protestation. Your absolute indifference intrigues her. You’ve evidently forgotten all about it already.
8. And then you yawn. Yawn and burrow your head in her breast in an affectionate, friendly manner; dropping off to sleep immediately. She sits very still and straight, hoping that you’ll wake up, hoping you won’t, hoping no one is watching you from the porch, wondering why she isn’t objecting, wondering why she should, wondering about life in general. … It’s all because she drank so much of that whiskey. She really doesn’t feel so well. Sort of mixed up. Why don’t you wake up? She wants to go in and dance; it must be late. How did this get started anyway?
9. She stirs a little at last, for her arm is going to sleep, and this wakes you. Open your eyes and pull her face down to yours—it’s the most natural thing to do under the circumstances. “Sweet thing.”
She is reassured. You are thinking of her, then. You’ve become once more a person, a man, instead of an abstract problem. And she knows how to deal with people, even with men. It’s this other thing that worries her; this horrible impersonal wondering; this feeling of enmity that lurks in the air when people forget you and go to sleep. Although she couldn’t put it into words. …
10. “Another drink, sweet thing?”
“I guess so.”
“Sure, just another little one now.”
She isn’t thinking at all now. If she were she’d probably suggest going in, for it is late and she wants to dance. But it doesn’t seem late; it doesn’t seem as though time is going on at all. She isn’t thinking. She doesn’t start to think even when you kiss her more enthusiastically and not so lazily. This must be the way a plant feels on a hot summer day when it hasn’t anything to do but grow. Not happy; not sad.
It is only when she realized at last that you are growing importunate that she stirs herself and protests. She isn’t sure what to say; the protest is more a matter of habit than anything else. … Everything is a habit. … And once more, for the last time, you say “Yes. One more. Just another little one.”
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