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　some　powerful　mass　desire。　There　was　no　narrative　voice。　Only　chants；　songs；　arias；　speeches；　cries；　cheers；　accusations；　shrieks。
　　I　got　to　my　feet　and　took　up　a　position　at　the　front　of　the　theater；　middle　aisle；　facing　the　entranceway。
　　They　came　in　out　of　the　sun　in　their　poplin　walk　shorts　and　limited…edition　T…shirts；　in　their　easy…care　knits；　their　polo　styling　and　rugby　stripes。　I　watched　them　take　their　seats；　noting　the　subdued　and　reverent　air；　the　uncertain　anticipation。　Some　had　notebooks　and　pencil　lights；　some　carried　lecture　material　in　bright　binders。　There　were　whispers；　rustling　paper；　the　knocking　sound　of　seats　dropping　as　one　by　one　the　students　settled　in。　I　leaned　against　the　front　of　the　apron；　waiting　for　the　last　few　to　enter；　for　someone　to　seal　the　doors　against　our　voluptuous　summer　day。
　　Soon　there　was　a　hush。　It　was　time　for　me　to　deliver　the　introductory　remarks。　I　let　the　silence　deepen　for　a　moment；　then　cleared　my　arms　from　the　folds　of　the　academic　robe　in　order　to　gesture　freely。
　　When　the　showing　ended；　someone　asked　about　the　plot　to　kill　Hitler。　The　discussion　moved　to　plots　in　general。　I　found　myself　saying　to　the　assembled　heads；　〃All　plots　tend　to　move　deathward。　This　is　the　nature　of　plots。　Political　plots；　terrorist　plots；　lovers'　plots；　narrative　plots；　plots　that　are　part　of　children's　games。　We　edge　nearer　death　every　time　we　plot。　It　is　like　a　contract　that　all　must　sign；　the　plotters　as　well　as　those　who　are　the　targets　of　the　plot。〃
　　Is　this　true？　Why　did　I　say　it？　What　does　it　mean？
　　7
　　Two　nights　a　week　Babette　goes　to　the　Congregational　church　at　the　other　end　of　town　and　lectures　to　adults　in　the　basement　on　correct　posture。　Basically　she　is　teaching　them　how　to　stand；　sit　and　walk。　Most　of　her　students　are　old。　It　isn't　clear　to　me　why　they　want　to　improve　their　posture。　We　seem　to　believe　it　is　possible　to　ward　off　death　by　following　rules　of　good　grooming。　Sometimes　I　go　with　my　wife　to　the　church　basement　and　watch　her　stand；　turn；　assume　various　heroic　poses；　gesture　gracefully。　She　makes　references　to　yoga；　kendo；　trance…walking。　She　talks　of　Sufi　dervishes；　Sherpa　mountaineers。　The　old　folks　nod　and　listen。　Nothing　is　foreign；　nothing　too　remote　to　apply。　I　am　always　surprised　at　their　acceptance　and　trust；　the　sweetness　of　their　belief。　Nothing　is　too　doubtful　to　be　of　use　to　them　as　they　seek　to　redeem　their　bodies　from　a　lifetime　of　bad　posture。　It　is　the　end　of　skepticism。　We　walked　home　under　a　marigold　moon。　Our　house　looked　old　and　wan　at　the　end　of　the　street；　the　porch　light　shining　on　a　molded　plastic　tricycle；　a　stack　of　three…hour　colored…flame　sawdust　and　wax　logs。　Denise　was　doing　her　homework　in　the　kitchen；　keeping　an　eye　on　Wilder；　who　had　wandered　downstairs　to　sit　on　the　floor　and　stare　through　the　oven　window。　Silence　in　the　halls；　shadows　on　the　sloping　lawn。　We　closed　the　door　and　disrobed。　The　bed　was　a　mess。　Magazines；　curtain　rods；　a　child's　sooty　sock。　Babette　hummed　something　from　a　Broadway　show；　putting　the　rods　in　a　corner。　We　embraced；　fell　sideways　to　the　bed　in　a　controlled　way；　then　repositioned　ourselves；　bathing　in　each　other's　flesh；　trying　to　kick　the　sheets　off　our　ankles。　Her　body　had　a　number　of　long　hollows；　places　the　hand　might　stop　to　solve　in　the　dark；　tempo…slowing　places。　We　believed　something　lived　in　the　basement。
　　〃What　do　you　want　to　do？〃　she　said。
　　〃Whatever　you　want　to　do。〃
　　〃I　want　to　do　whatever's　best　for　you。〃
　　〃What's　best　for　me　is　to　please　you；〃　I　said。
　　〃I　want　to　make　you　happy；　Jack。〃
　　〃I'm　happy　when　I'm　pleasing　you。〃
　　〃I　just　want　to　do　what　you　want　to　do。〃
　　〃I　want　to　do　whatever's　best　for　you。〃
　　〃But　you　please　me　by　letting　me　please　you；〃　she　said。
　　〃As　the　male　partner　I　think　it's　my　responsibility　to　please。〃
　　〃I'm　not　sure　whether　that's　a　sensitive　caring　statement　or　a　sexist　remark。〃
　　〃Is　it　wrong　for　the　man　to　be　considerate　toward　his　partner？〃
　　〃I'm　your　partner　when　we　play　tennis；　which　we　ought　to　start　doing　again；　by　the　way。　Otherwise　I'm　your　wife。　Do　you　want　me　to　read　to　you？〃
　　〃First…rate。〃
　　〃I　know　you　like　me　to　read　sexy　stuff。〃
　　〃I　thought　you　liked　it　too。〃
　　〃Isn't　it　basically　the　person　being　read　to　who　derives　the　benefit　and　the　satisfaction？　When　I　read　to　Old　Man　Treadwell；　it's　not　because　I　find　those　tabloids　stimulating。〃
　　〃Treadwell's　blind；　I'm　not。　I　thought　you　liked　to　read　erotic　passages。〃
　　〃If　it　pleases　you；　then　I　like　to　do　it。〃
　　〃But　it　has　to　please　you　too；　Baba。　Otherwise　how　would　I　feel？〃
　　〃It　pleases　me　that　you　enjoy　my　reading。〃
　　〃I　get　the　feeling　a　burden　is　being　shifted　back　and　forth。　The　burden　of　being　the　one　who　is　pleased。〃
　　〃I　want　to　read；　Jack。　Honestly。〃
　　〃Are　you　totally　and　pletely　sure？　Because　if　you're　not；　we　absolutely　won't。〃
　　Someone　turned　on　the　TV　set　at　the　end　of　the　hall；　and　a　woman's　voice　said：　〃If　it　breaks　easily　into　pieces；　it　is　called　shale。　When　wet；　it　smells　like　clay。〃
　　We　listened　to　the　gently　plummeting　stream　of　nighttime　traffic。
　　I　said；　〃Pick　your　century。　Do　you　want　to　read　about　Etruscan　slave　girls；　Georgian　rakes？　I　think　we　have　some　literature　on　flagellation　brothels。　What　about　the　Middle　Ages？　We　have　incubi　and　succubi。　Nuns　galore。〃
　　〃Whatever's　best　for　you。〃
　　〃I　want　you　to　choose。　It's　sexier　that　way。〃
　　〃One　person　chooses；　the　other　reads。　Don't　we　want　a　balance；　a　sort　of　give…and…take？　Isn't　that　what　makes　it　sexy？〃
　　〃A　tautness；　a　suspense。　First…rate。　I　will　choose。〃
　　〃I　will　read；〃　she　said。　〃But　I　don't　want　you　to　choose　anything　that　has　men　inside　women；　quote…quote；　or　men　entering　women。　'I　entered　her。'　'He　entered　me。'　We're　not　lobbies　or　elevators。　'I　wanted　him　inside　me；'　as　if　he　could　crawl　pletely　in；　sign　the　register；　sleep；　eat；　so　forth。　Can　we　agree　on　that？　I　don't　care　what　these　people　do　as　long　as　they　don't　enter　or　get　entered。〃
　　〃Agreed。〃
　　〃'I　entered　her　and　began　to　thrust。'〃
　　〃I'm　in　total　agreement；〃　I　said。
　　〃'Enter　me；　enter　me；　yes；　yes。'〃
　　〃Silly　usage；　absolutely。〃
　　〃'Insert　yourself；　Rex。　I　want　you　inside　me；　entering　hard；　entering　deep；　yes；　now；　oh。'〃
　　I　began　to　feel　an　erection　stirring。　How　stupid　and　out　of　context。　Babette　laughed　at　her　own　lines。　The　TV　said：　〃Until　Florida　surgeons　attached　an　artificial　flipper。〃
　　Babette　and　I　tell　each　other　everything。　I　have　told　everything；　such　as　it　was　at　the　time；　to　each　of　my　wives。　There　is　more　to　tell；　of　course；　as　marriages　accumulate。　But　when　I　say　I　believe　in　plete　disclosure　I　don't　mean　it　cheaply；　as　anecdotal　sport　or　shallow　revelation。　It　is　a　form　of　self…renewal　and　a　gesture　of　custodial　trust。　Love　helps　us　develop　an　identity　secure　enough　to　allow　itself　to　be　placed　in　another's　care　and　protection。　Babette　and　I　have　turned　our　lives　for　each　other's　thoughtful　regard；　turned　them　in　the　moonlight　in　our　pale　hands；　spoken　deep　into　the　night　about　fathers　and　mothers；　childhood；　friendships；　awakenings；　old　loves；　old　fears　（except　fear　of　death）。　No　detail　must　be　left　out；　not　even　a　dog　with　ticks　or　a　neighbor's　boy　who　ate　an　insect　on　a　dare。　The　smell　of　pantries；　the　sense　of　empty　afternoons；　the　feel　of　things　as　they　rained　across　our　skin；　things　as　facts　and　passions；　the　feel　of　pain；　loss；　disappointment；　breathless　delight。　In　these　night　recitations　we　create　a　space　between　things　as　we　felt　them　at　the　time　and　as　we　speak　them　now。　This　is　the　space　reserved　for　irony；　sympathy　and　fond　amusement；　the　means　by　which　we　rescue　ourselves　from　the　past。
　　I　decided　on　the　twentieth　century。　I　put　on　my　bathrobe　and　went　down　the　hall　to　Heinrich's　room　to　find　a　trashy　magazine　Babette　might　read　from；　the　type　that　features　letters　from　readers　detailing　their　sexual　experiences。　This　struck　me　as　one　of　the　few　things　the　modern　imagination　has　contributed　to　the　history　of　erotic　practices。　There　is　a　double　fantasy　at　work　in　such　letters。　People　write　down　imagined　episodes　and　then　see　them　published　in　a　national　magazine。　Which　is　the　grea