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Baker has written a novel that remaps the territory of sex--solitary and telephonic, lyrical and profane, comfortable and dangerous. Written in the form of a phone conversation between two strangers, Vox is an erotic classic that places the author in the first rank of America's major writers.
return on my investment. I guess insofar as verbal pornography records thoughts rather than exclusively images, or at least sur rounds all images with thoughts, or something, it can be the hottest medium of all. Telepathy on a budget. But still honestly I need the images. For instance of you there 76 in the shower. I mean, when you come are your legs slightly apart?" "Yes." "And do you have one of those legendary Water Pile shower-massage showerheads?" "I do, but I don't use it with any of the
said, 'Well it's on a rolling table, so there's no fixed distance, but then, the cable cord limits the range, so I guess it's probably about six feet from the couch.' She noted this down and she goes, 'Because the woman skim ming these personals may need to know that. That little fact might be of the highest importance. Now, is the couch two pillows wide or three pillows wide or four pillows wide?' I said it was three pillows wide. She said, 'Like this?' and on the place mat she started drawing
row of male models, his cock swaying slightly, and he holds the tights to his face and exhales through them, then nods, takes a pencil with 16 a surprisingly sharp point, and makes a check mark over the numeral one on the packing slip. He hands it to the next guy—by this time all the male models have aban doned their shame in each other's presence and they are all standing there in a row with their various organs pronging at various angles out of their various robes and boxers and sex-briefs.
hands, ho, I'm sucking on your breasts . . . " "And I'd hold on to your head as you sucked my breasts, and feel your tongue doing all those nice things to me through your cheeks. I am so wet." "Oh, and I'd tighten my thigh muscle where your pussy was pressing down on it and feel your wetness slide against me, and I'd look up at you and kiss you again, and slide my hands down to your hips and push down, so that there was more pressure still against your notch, and I'd feel your hips move
when I'm rushing to get dressed. They catch on something. T h e jade ones, my favorite set, which my father gave me, caught on the open door of the microwave when I was standing up too quickly after picking a piece of paper up off the floor. That was the latest tragedy. And of course my sister's babe yanked one set off my neck. But they can all be repaired and they will all be repaired." "Good going." "Anyway, this apartment is transformed, I mean it, 22 not just superficially but with new