        from FUGUE FOR AN OCTOBER AGE                         THE MIRROR  4 
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        press  of  her  buttocks against my groin.  Encouraged, I again take
        her hand and again let her feel me, which she does willingly, if not
        eagerly, but when I start to slide my hands upwards, she flushes the
        toilet and walks away.
             I  gather  up my shorts and undershirt and put them on.  She is 
        standing by her desk, pulling a soft, midnight blue  dress over  her 
        head.  "Sure wish you'd tell me what's bugging you," I say. 
             "I don't have to tell you; you already know." 
             "I do like hell.  Come on, what is it?" 
             "Zak, put on the rest of your clothes. I'm starved." 
             "Okay, but what is it?" 
             "What is it?   All right, I'll tell you what it is.   All we are, 
        the  two  of  us, is a goddamned sex machine and I'm getting a little 
        tired of it." 
             "Kim, we've talked about that before." 
             "We  sure  have," she says bitterly. "over and over again.  And 
        each time we wind up in the sack." 
             "So?" 
             "So maybe, just maybe, I might have other demands." 
             "Like what?  Give me a for instance." 
             "For  instance, all  the  dumb  little  things that every woman
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