Black Boxes. Caroline Smailes

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      I could tell that you were shocked.

      You couldn't find the words.

      And I have never told you just how much your sperm excited me.

      I have thought about it so many times after that day.

      I have thought about it when I was alone.

      When I needed a release.

       ~Yes I mean an orgasm!~

       ~Of course women need that kind of thing!~

      And that thought made a trail of discharge onto my knickers.

      I'd push my fingers down and over my soft hair.

      I'd push my fingers inside me.

      Until they were covered in my own juices.

      And then that wetness made it easier for my fingers to work their movements.

      And then I'd rub my clitoris.

      To stimulate me.

      Till I reached my climax.

      And afterwards I would lick, suck and taste.

      Hoping to experience your sperm.

      [sound: sucking]

      It's a natural thing.

      Female masturbation.

      It's a normal sexual act.

      Sexual normality.

       ~What is it to be sexually normal?~

      My lines are blurred.

      I figure that normality would fall within the centre of your line.

       ~Is that right?~

      And that the line should be Etchasketch straight.

       ~Is that right?~

       ~But what is the scale from there to there?~

       ~And what acts must I pass through from there to there?~

      I don't have a ruler.

       ~How can I pinpoint the exact centre?~

      I fear that my estimation may be slightly off.

       ~Should I use my fingers?~

      [sound: unrecognisable sounds, possibly groans]

      I had thirty-six hours.

      I could have taken the morning-after pill.

      I knew where to go and what to say.

      The surgery on campus was always well stocked.

      I could have gone.

      Taken the pill.

      Felt nauseous.

      Probably thrown up.

      And you'd never have known.

      You'd probably not even have noticed.

      But I didn't go.

      i didn't think that there was a need.

      I didn't think.

       ~I did think.~

      I didn't think.

       ~I did think.~

      I didn't think. I don't know.

      [sound: banging wardrobe door]

       ~Oh stop shouting!~

       ~Stop the noise!~

      Your voice is too loud.

      You're making me blink.

       Blink.

       Blink.

      [sound: humming of an unrecognisable tune]

      Your constant questioning is ruining my memory.

       ~What do you mean?~

      I don't know what I was trying to achieve.

      There wasn't a goal.

      I dislike the word goal.

      I'd be happier with aim.

      Ambition.

      Target.

      Aspiration.

      Goal carries connotations of sporting achievement.

      Our intercourse was hardly award winning.

      [sound: laugh to snort]

      I didn't think.

      Really I didn't.

      [sound: laugh to snort]

      I didn't think that there was a need.

      I mean I remember knowing that I had thirty-six hours.

      I remember thinking of hours.

      And waiting for those hours to pass.

      I could have taken the morning-after pill.

      Perhaps I should have taken the morning-after pill.

       ~I didn't think.~

      I did think.

       ~I didn't think.~

      I did think.

       ~I didn't think.~

      I don't know.

      I don't know.

      [sound: distant rumbling of low flying aeroplane]

      Ok. Ok.

       ~I did think!~

      [silence]

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