Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Not One Day

At what point would she take hold of your hand to force it, compel it to finish, drive it into her flesh and with a thrust of the hips deliver herself from the unbearable elusiveness of pleasure? But it’s the duration imparted to remembrance that, coming to a close, now rushes you to conclude. The alarm went off. You remember interrupting your unfinished caress. You remember E*’s surprise and reminding her of the promise she had exacted from you. You remember putting your clothes back on, retracing your steps down the still-deserted corridors. Vanished from your memory: what you can’t have then helped but think of that night whose constrained coldness, whose paradoxical cruelty and vain anxiety today astonish you. [Night 3] Y* Your first interview seemed different from all the others you had in the same circumstances, for the same purpose. You were young and still believed, on the verge of one of your careers, that you had ambition. You never set your heart on the pursuit of these careers. They proceed haphazardly. You certainly work— at university, at writing—but the necessary sociability with your peers, with the arbiters of your destinies—university types,

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