Praise Read Online Free Page A

Cynthia watched me as I went through the routine of sucking in the Ventolin and rolling the first cigarette.
    Her skin was bad again. It was my fault. I’d been exploring it during the night, testing the limits. The disease was all over her face, neck, shoulders and back. It made her skin tender and wrinkled, covered it with hundreds of small scabs that broke away with my fingertips. Now, in the morning, her face was oozing blood. The bleeding woman. If I’d rubbed my unshaven cheeks up against hers I could probably have killed her.
    She rooted through her bag to find some cream. She said it didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.
    The argument next door rose to screaming, cut off abruptly.
    â€˜There,’ I said, ‘he’s killed her.’
    â€˜She’s probably in love. She won’t mind.’
    â€˜I suppose that’s why he did it.’
    â€˜Love is a dangerous thing,’ she agreed. She curled up against me. She reached down, rolled my balls between her fingers. She did it gently. ‘Your name
would
have to be Gordon.’
    â€˜What’s wrong with Gordon?’
    â€˜All the great loves of my life seem to have been named Gordon. There were two of them. And they both left. Each time it fucked me up for years.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    She rolled over on top of me, stared at my face. ‘Never mind, you’re beautiful. Your
eyelashes
are beautiful. And your skin. It’s like a baby’s. I’d kill for skin like that. It’s a woman’s skin.’
    â€˜I stay out of the sun.’
    â€˜So who were your great loves?’
    â€˜There was only one. And we were at school at the time. I wanted to run away with her, I wanted to marry her. It went on for years. I think it affected me permanently. It’s a very significant time, adolescence. Significant and tortured. We never even kissed. We only saw each other at school. She lived out of town. We held hands a lot.’
    â€˜Poor baby. Are you still in love with her?’
    â€˜I haven’t seen her for a couple of years. I probably am.’
    â€˜And no one else?’
    â€˜Not really. There’s one other woman, perhaps. An
older
woman. But that’s a little complicated. And otherwise things have been pretty slow.’
    â€˜But why? I couldn’t believe it when the other girls at the pub said you were single. I said I
want
that boy, and they said they thought you must be gay ... are you?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. I’ve only slept with a man once.’
    â€˜Did you enjoy it?’
    â€˜Yes. I did. Still, I don’t know. It was only the once, and I was very drunk ... it’s not much to go on.’
    â€˜Do you fantasise about men?’
    â€˜Sometimes. Not as often as I do about women. And there’s always a certain amount of violence about it.’
    â€˜So why didn’t you do it again?’
    â€˜The chance never came up. He moved to Adelaide. And there’s never been anyone else that appealed ...’
    â€˜What was his penis like?’
    We talked penises for a while. Sizes and shapes and the uses of such. She pulled back the sheet and slid down my stomach and examined mine. ‘They’re such amazing things,’ she said, moving it around, ‘I wish I had one of my own, just to play with.’
    I watched her over my stomach.
    â€˜It’s not very big though, is it’ I said.
    â€˜How long is it erect?’
    â€˜Five inches. Just
under
five inches.’
    â€˜Well ... I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s enough to work. And the really big pricks can be horrible sometimes. As long as they’re wide enough, as long as the shape is right, the length doesn’t matter so much. The worst penis I ever had was about a foot long but it was so thin it hurt. It was like being fucked with a knitting needle. I like yours. It’s cute.’
    Cute. I didn’t want cute. I wanted ugly. I wanted