"Now that you're using your head," he responded, "I've got a proposal to make you."

Curious about what he was going to tell me, I egged him on childishly. He said he would do it with me only if nothing came of it, if there'd be nothing between us but sex, which we'd seek out only when we had the desire for it. I believed that in the long run even a porno novel might metamorphose into a tale of love and affection, which, absent at the start, could develop with practice. And so I prostrated myself before his will insofar as it complied with my whims: I shall be his little sex toy with an expiration date; when he gets fed up, he'll just get rid of me. Seeing that my first time would involve a true and proper agreement (though without a document that confirms and bears witness to it) between one party who is much too cunning and another who is much too curious and eager, I accepted the terms with a bowed head and a heart on the verge of exploding.

I'm hoping, however, for a positive outcome because I want to preserve the memory of it forever. I want it to be lovely, brilliant, poetic.

3:18 P.M.

My body feels destroyed and heavy, incredibly heavy. It's like something very huge has fallen on top of me and squashed me. I'm not referring to physical pain, but to a different kind, inside. I didn't feel any physical pain even when I was on top.

This morning I took my scooter out of the garage and went to his house in the center of town. It was early, half the town was still asleep, and the roads were nearly empty. Every so often some truck driver would blast his horn and toss me a compliment. I'd smile a little because I thought other people could perceive my happiness, which always makes me more lovely and radiant.

When I arrived at his house, I looked at my watch and realized I was tremendously early, as usual.