Henry Miller: Capricorn's Turn

She was mumbling something about the open door, but I didn't want to risk letting her slip from my grasp. Instead, I slowly turned around and gradually maneuvered her to the door, closing it with her backside. I locked it with my free hand, led her to the middle of the room, unzipped my fly with my free hand, pulled out my cock, and positioned it properly. She was still so drunk with sleep that I felt like I was dealing with a doll. Yet I understood that she was actually enjoying the thought of being fucked in a half-sleep.

I dozed off... When I woke up, my member was stiff. It seemed to me that the sun was shining directly into my fly. I got up and washed my face at the faucet. It was still just as hot and humid. The asphalt was soft like dough, flies were buzzing, trash was rotting in the gutter. I walked between hand carts, absentmindedly observing the world around me. My cock was almost always hard even though I wasn't thinking of any particular woman. Just as I returned to Second Avenue, I remembered the Egyptian Jewess from lunch.

I recalled when she said she lived above the Russian restaurant near Twelfth Street. I still wasn't sure what I was actually going to do. I was simply wandering to pass the time. Yet my legs carried me northward toward Fourteenth Street. When I reached the Russian restaurant, I paused for a moment, then rushed up the stairs, skipping three at a time. The door to the vestibule was open. I climbed from landing to landing, reading the names on the doors. She lived on the top floor and below her name was some man's name. I knocked softly. No one responded. I knocked again, a little harder. Then I heard someone walking inside. Finally, a voice came from just by the door, asking who it was, and then the doorknob turned. I flung the door open and rushed into the dark room. I lunged straight into her arms and felt that she was completely naked beneath the kimono she was draped in.

Clearly, she had just awakened from a deep sleep, so she wasn't quite sure who was hugging her. When she realized it was me, she tried to pull away, but I held her tightly and began to kiss her passionately, slowly pushing her toward the couch by the window. She was mumbling something about the open door, but I didn't want to risk letting her slip from my grasp. Instead, I slowly turned around and gradually maneuvered her to the door, closing it with her backside. I locked it with my free hand, led her to the middle of the room, unzipped my fly with my free hand, pulled out my cock, and positioned it properly. She was still so drunk with sleep that I felt like I was dealing with a doll. Yet I understood that she was actually enjoying the thought of being fucked in a half-sleep.

The trouble was that each time I pushed, she became more frightened. I had no idea how to get her into bed and put her to sleep without interrupting the good fucking. I managed to push her down on the couch without falling out of her, and she became incredibly aroused, squirming and bending like an eel. Ever since I started to penetrate her, I don't think she opened her eyes even once. I kept repeating to myself: "Egyptian pussy, Egyptian pussy" and, just to avoid coming right away, I started to deliberately think about the corpse that Monica had brought to the station and about those thirty-five cents I had given to Paulina. Then suddenly - bang! Someone knocked loudly on the door, and she opened her eyes wide, looking at me in terror. I immediately began to pull out, but to my great surprise, she tightly embraced me and whispered in my ear: - Don't move! - and: - Wait. - There was another loud knock, and I recognized Kronski's voice saying: - It's me, Thelma... it's me, little Jewess...


I almost burst out laughing when I heard what he was saying. We lay back in our natural position, she slowly closed her eyes, and I gently twisted inside her, so as not to wake her. It was one of the most wonderful fucks of my life. I thought it would never end. Whenever I felt the danger of coming, I would completely calm down and start thinking - thinking, for example, about where I would most like to spend the holidays, if I had any, about the shirts in the drawer of my office desk, about the patch on the rug in front of the bed. Kronski was still standing at the door - I heard him moving back and forth. Whenever I felt he was standing there, at the door, I would nudge a little harder, and then she would respond in a half-sleep, somehow jokingly, as if she understood what I was trying to convey with that vocabulary that consisted of inserting and pulling out. I didn't dare to even think about what she was thinking at that moment, because I would have come right away. Sometimes I would already be on the verge of that happening, but Monica and the corpse at the main train station would always pull me back. The thought of that funny situation always acted like a cold shower.
When it was finally all over, she opened her eyes wide and stared at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. I had no idea what to say to her; my only desire was to get out of there as soon as possible.

But she clearly wasn't in a hurry. She turned her backside to me. So I lay there, resting my stiff cock on her buttocks and teasing her in my mind. And, for God's sake, it seems to me that, in her deep sleep, she still received my message, so I effortlessly pushed it into her back entrance, and although I couldn't see her face, I knew she was melting with relief. As I pressed her one last time and came, I thought: "Buddy, it's all Limburg cheese, and now turn around nicely and snore..."