Page 46 of Eleven Minutes


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"You're obviously too young to understand these things, but that's precisely why I would like to share a little of my life with you, so that you don't make the same mistakes I did.

"But why is it that my husband never noticed my clitoris? He assumed that the orgasm happened in the vagina, and I found it really, really difficult to pretend something that he imagined I must be feeling. Of course, I did experience pleasure, but a different kind of pleasure. It was only when the friction was on the upper part...do you know what I mean?"

"I know."

"And now I know why. It's in there," she pointed to a book on her desk, whose title Maria couldn't see. "There are lots of nerve endings that connect the clitoris and the G-spot and which are crucial to orgasm. But men think that penetration is all. Do you know what the G-spot is?"

"Yes, we talked about it the other day," said Maria, slipping into the role of Innocent Girl. "As you go in, on the first floor, the back window."

"That's right!" And the librarian's eyes lit up. "Just you ask how many of your male friends have heard of it. None of them! It's absurd. But just as an Italian discovered the clitoris, the G-spot is a twentieth-century discovery! Soon it will be in all the headlines, and then no one will be able to ignore it any longer! Have you any idea what revolutionary times we're living in?"

Maria glanced at her watch, and Heidi realized that she would have to talk fast, in order to teach this pretty young woman that all women have the right to be happy and fulfilled, in order that the next generation should benefit from all these extraordinary scientific discoveries.

"Dr. Freud didn't agree because he wasn't a woman and, since he experienced his orgasm through his penis, he felt that women must, therefore, experience pleasure in their vagina. We've got to go back to basics, to what has always given us pleasure: the clitoris and the G-spot! Very few women enjoy a satisfactory sexual relationship, so if you have difficulty in getting the pleasure you deserve, let me suggest something: change position. Make your lover lie down and you stay on top; your clitoris will strike his body harder and you--not he--will be getting the stimulus you need. Or, rather, the stimulus you deserve!"

Maria, meanwhile, was only pretending that she wasn't listening to the conversation. So she wasn't the only one! She didn't have a sexual problem, it was all j

ust a question of anatomy! She felt like kissing the librarian, as if a gigantic weight had been lifted off her heart. How good to have discovered this while she was still young! What a marvelous day she was having! Heidi gave a conspiratorial smile.

"They may not know it, but we have an erection too. The clitoris becomes erect!"

"They" presumably meant men. Since this was such an intimate conversation, Maria decided to risk a question:

"Have you ever had an affair?"

The librarian looked shocked. Her eyes gave off a kind of sacred fire, she blushed scarlet, though whether out of rage or shame it was impossible to tell. After a while, though, the battle between telling the truth or pretending ended. She simply changed the subject.

"Getting back to our erection, to our clitoris, did you know that it became rigid?"

"Yes, I've known that ever since I was a child."

Heidi seemed disappointed. Perhaps she had just never noticed. Nevertheless, she resolved to go on:

"Anyway, apparently, if you rub your finger around it, without touching the actual tip, you can experience even more intense pleasure. So take note! Men who do respect a woman's body immediately touch the tip, not knowing that this can sometimes be quite painful, don't you agree? So, after your first or second encounter, take control of the situation: get on top, decide how and when pressure should be applied, and increase and decrease the rhythm as you see fit. According to the book I'm reading, a frank conversation about it might also be a good idea."

"Did you ever have a frank conversation with your husband?"

Again, Heidi avoided this direct question, saying that things were different then. Now she was more interested in sharing her intellectual experiences.

"Try to think of your clitoris as the hands of a clock and ask your partner to move it back and forth between eleven and one, do you understand?"

Yes, she knew what the woman was talking about and didn't entirely agree, although the book wasn't far from the truth. As soon as she mentioned the word "clock," though, Maria glanced at her watch, and explained that she had really come to say goodbye, her job placement had come to an end. The woman seemed not to hear her.

"Would you like to borrow this book about the clitoris?"

"No, thanks. I've got other things to think about at the moment."

"And you don't want to borrow anything else?"

"No. I'm going back to my own country, but I just wanted to thank you for always having treated me with such respect and understanding. Perhaps we'll meet again some time."

They shook hands and wished each other much happiness.

Heidi waited until the girl had left, then thumped the desk. Why hadn't she seized the opportunity to share something which, the way things were going, would probably go to the grave with her? Since the girl had had the courage to ask if she had ever betrayed her husband, why had she not answered, now that she was discovering a new world in which women were finally acknowledging how difficult it was to achieve a vaginal orgasm?

"Oh well, it doesn't matter. The world isn't just about sex."

No, it wasn't the most important thing in the world, but it was still important. She looked around her; most of the thousands of books surrounding her were love stories. It was always the same: someone meets someone, falls in love, loses them and finds them again. There are souls speaking unto souls, there are distant places, adventures, sufferings, anxieties, but very rarely anyone saying: "Excuse me, sir, but why don't you try acquiring a better understanding of the female body?" Why didn't books talk openly about that?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com