First Sentence

"I A half hundred floors up. Above the level of the ordinary world. The only light in the room a faint pink, a calculated, helping color. The only sound from the concealed hi-fi. His voice, him electronically, highest highs, lowest lows. The king-size sheets now not just laundry smelling. Now a more complicated pleasant mixture from skins, colognes, and the love-made wet of her. She was now eyeshut in the nice aftersoft below reality. But he hadn't come, so he was wide open, looking at the ceiling and hearing himself. One of his knees was just touching some of her. He had pretended coming this time. He often did - acted the appropriate rhythms and sounds - and he was sure she didn't know he hadn't really finished. Not that he didn't enjoy coming, but he felt if he let flow every time he'd be drained. It was better, he thought, to hold back and preserve his want for variety. When he didn't come he didn't need time for refill. Instead of dry, emptied dry, he felt ready for the next. He related his holding back to a religion he'd once read about and needed to remember: some Far East worshippers who used sexual incompletion as a source of energy to help them feel constantly high on life. They would, as he partially understood it, go to the very perimeter of release and stop. That is, the men would. He assumed the women got their kicks as usual. Besides, he believed holding back was unselfish and contributed to his image, that was the best of the better lovers. Now his solid eighteen-karat butane Dunhill lighted a cigarette for him, and he used its flame to let his Piaget watch tell him it was nearly eight-thirty. He was going to be late for the game. He got up and, having not come, his legs were full and strong, actually felt better than they had at the recording session that afternoon. He'd been especially good that afternoon, with plenty of voice to use, and emotionally he'd been so right that they'd done two numbers more than scheduled. It had been an easy session with nothing bothering, and the results were excellent..."