about the french movie director…

“she’s a lawyer,” he told me, “she
keeps coming over, wants to be stripped,
tied up, gagged, tortured a bit…
one night I had her laying on the
fireplace
all tied and gagged when there was a
knock on the door, it was a couple of
girls I knew so I let them in.   so
we sat there and talked as the lawyer
was tied up nude in front of the
fireplace…
she was never mentioned in our
conversation.
the girls stayed about an hour
then left…”

“then what did you do to the
lawyer?” I asked.

“secrets of the trade,” he
answered.

drink in hand he walked over to
the window of his house
which overlooked the sea.
he lifted his drink, took a hit,
turned and looked at me, asked,
“did I ever tell you about the
time I fucked under water?”

“no, you haven’t…”

he proceeded to tell me
and I proceeded to feel that I
needn’t come around there
anymore
not with a two hour round trip
drive included
not me with my backlog of
common, drab
semi-fucks
to hear all
that.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1982
Source
Original manuscript