Nude Men

person is much better, though it is of course more difficult to avoid being caught. Touching people without being noticed is exciting, daring, dangerous, yet warm, loving, and close. Even bumping or brushing against someone in the street is wonderful. And it does not matter if they feel it, because they’ll just think it’s an accident and won’t know it was planned, that we did it on purpose.
    When Laura and I touch each other, the pleasure is so intense that it is painful. That is why we are able to enjoy this pleasure much more fully when it is diluted by an intermediary. The pleasure we get from touching someone at the same time is so exquisite and perfect in its subtle sensuality that the person in question need not be unaware of our touch. When we receive a visitor, we often stand on either side of him, holding his arms, patting him, bumping against his sides playfully, whispering in his ear (because even our breath against the side of his face adds to our pleasure), ruffling his hair (justifying our behavior by saying we like his haircut), and feeling his clothes (justifying our behavior by saying we like them). We do this rather expertly, so our guest attributes our behavior to deep affection.
    This is not to say that we don’t make love. We do, but not as often as people who are less in love. For us, making love is a dangerous pleasure that we must, should, and do try to resist, because it leaves us feeling sick and stunned afterward.
     
    I observe Laura carefully whenever I’m with her, to try and catch her doing some of her real magic. I often wonder if I might have been wrong about that coin trick. Perhaps she can’t do real magic. Perhaps the quarter did not truly disappear from her palm as I thought it did. Maybe I hallucinated, though I’m convinced I didn’t.
    How strong is her magic, I wonder. What other tricks can she do? Can she make a chair disappear, or only small things? Can she make things appear, or only disappear? Can she make people love her?
    Can she make people love her? Am I under her spell?
    I sometimes ask her to show me more of her real magic, and she tries to ridicule me, to make me stop pestering her. She’ll say things like: “I can’t believe you, Jeremy. You’re such a baby! You still believe in magic. How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a fairy?”
    You would think that since she’s so eager for me to drop my fixation, she’d simply reveal to me how she performed her coin trick. But she doesn’t, which I’m convinced means that there’s nothing to reveal, no solution, no secret; it’s just pure, undiluted magic.
     
    I keep going to her shows, and I sometimes fall asleep halfway through. One evening I wake up suddenly from my doze because I hear clapping. What? What? What are they clapping at? The show’s not over yet. So what are they clapping at? I sit forward in my seat and squint at the bright lights stinging my sleepy eyes. I don’t notice anything strange or different. Did she do her real magic? Could that be it? No, I doubt it, because if she had made things really disappear onstage, in front of their very eyes, using no sleight of hand, they wouldn’t be clapping; they’d be fainting, or getting the police, or running out, or screaming madly, or kissing her feet and worshiping her like a god. Perhaps I’m getting carried away. But at the very least, they’d be staring at her with complete astonishment, like me when she made the coin disappear. They would be too stunned to clap.
    I did not notice what she did to deserve the clapping. I missed it. Oh well, I’ll have to ask her about it later. But suddenly there is clapping again, and my eyes are not closed, and I can tell yyou that she did nothing to deserve it. It’s her same old marble-out-of-mouth trick. For the rest of the show, there are two tables of people who clap at every lousy rotten trick she does, and I stare at them with disbelief and then look at Laura to see if she is troubled, or pleased. She does look a little stunned. She has trouble concentrating, I can tell, takes longer than usual to accomplish every trick and every interlude of dance. Sometimes she glances at the clapping tables and then quickly looks away. But she does not look displeased. Her eyes are brighter than usual, and her lips are blushing and smiling in a lovely soft manner.
    The clappers look like students. Some are older, and wiser-looking, as if they might be graduate students. They have