You want something new.
I do want something new. And you’re one of the new things I want, philosopher. A walking, talking sex toy.
Well, I could have picked a better sex toy, couldn’t I? I could have picked someone who could get it up.
There are various positions I like, philosophy. That you’re incapable of. Maybe I’d like to fuck in the shower, did you ever think of that? See, I can say the word fuck. There aren’t many women who can say the word, fuck. But they’re the same kind of women who are sexually demanding.
Oh come now, I didn’t mean to humiliate you. I didn’t mean to insult your virility. Or maybe I did …
See, I’m picking at you, aren’t I? She’s bitch – that’s what you’re thinking. She’s fucking toxic. And you’d be right. I’m thinking it, too. Maybe you aren’t enough of an adversary for me. Maybe you don’t stand up to me enough. What do you think?
You don’t want to play my abasement games. Maybe they’re what turn me on: my abasement games. My cruelty – sexual cruelty. My cruelty about sex. Except I don’t think they do turn me on. I think I play them to stop myself being turned on. To push away my lover. Am I pushing you away, philosopher?
Work in Progress 