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156 Tutelage for Sappho I must admit I didn’t think of you when first I fucked a woman who had given birth. Before, I’d learned with green and grassy girls who clenched with furious delight my tongue or thumb or fist. But this was a room in another room, a world behind the walls where men don’t go, or if they do they fall into the fear of capture. I fell, too, but enraptured by the flesh of it all. And taking me in, she took me too far in my mind, she took me out its door, she who only hours before had pulled my shoulders through her car window, kissed me on the street. Gripping me like life or death, she said she wanted me to fuck her hard and harder than I ever had and did I understand? “Of course,” I said. Of course, I lied or only later knew the cost of truth. Tutelage, means you’ll learn. Tuition, you pay. ...

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