Reading Anaïs Nin at the Dinner Table.

She had been in Paris when they had hanged a Russian radical who had killed a diplomat. She was then living in Montparnasse, frequenting the cafés, and she had followed the trial with a passion, as all her friends had done, because the man was a fanatic, had given Dostoevskian answers to the questions put to him, faced the trail with great religious courage.

At that time they still executed people for grave offenses. It usually took place at dawn, when no one was about, in a little square near the prison on the Santé, where the guillotine had stood at the time of the Revolution. And one could not get very near, because of the police guard. Few people attended these hangings. But in the case of the Russian, because emotions had been so much aroused, all the students and artists of Montparnasse, the young agitators and revolutionaries had decided to attend. They waited up all night, getting drunk.

Mom?

Hmmm?

I need juice.

Oh. Okay.

With ice.

Okay. There you go....What do you say?

Thank you?

You're welcome.

She had waited with them, had drunk with them, and was in a great state of excitement and fear. It was the first time she was to see someone hanged. It was the first time she was to witness a scene that had been repeated many, many times during the Revolution.

Towards dawn, the crowd moved to the square, as near as the rope, stretched by the policemen, would allow and gathered in a circle. She was carried by the waves of crowding and pushing people to a spot about ten meters away from the scaffold.

There she stood, pressed against the rope, watching with fascination and terror.

I don't want my juice in this cup. I want the red cup.

Too bad.

Mooooooooommmmmm.....

No! Hush!

...then a stirring in the crowd pushed her away from her position. Still, she could see by standing on her toes. People were crushing her from all sides. The prisoner was brought in with his eyes blindfolded. The hangman-

Please? Please the red cup?

No.

...The hangman stood by, waiting. Two policemen held the man and slowly led him up the stairs of the scaffold. At this moment she became aware of someone pressing against her far more eagerly than necessary. In the trembling, excited condition she was in,

Mo Mikk Pwease!

Sigh. Okay. Give me your bottle.

Okay. Here you go.

Fank yu!

...the pressure was not disagreeable. Her body was in a fever. Anyway, she could scarcely...

FANK YU!

You're welcome!

...move, so pinned was she to the spot by the curious crowd.

She wore a white blouse and a skirt that buttoned all the way down the side as was the fashion then - a short skirt and a blouse through which one could see her rosy underwear and guess at the shape of her breasts.

There's a Dracula on the window at school!

I know, you've told me. And I've seen it.

It's scary!

But you like it, don't you?

Yeah! Juanita won't take it down!

She covers it up when you come to class, but you keep uncovering it. I've seen you do it. You like to be scared by the Dracula, don't you?

It will bite me!

I don't think so.

...Two hands encircled her waist, and she distinctly felt a man's body, his desire hard against her ass. She held her breath. Her eyes were fixed on the man who was about to be hanged, which made her body painfully nervous, and at the same time the hands reached for her breasts and

No like it!

What do you mean, "No like it"? You're eating it. Eat another pea.

NO!

Hey! Don't shove your plate at me. That is not okay.

No like it! Want cookie!

No cookie! You can't have a cookie for dinner.

...She wore a white blouse and skirt that buttoned all the way...no, wait, I already read that. Shit, I lost my place. Skirt...buttons...ass...hanged...breasts...Ah. Okay. Okay...the hands reached for her breasts and pressed upon

I want a cookie, too!

Neither of you are getting cookies for dinner. Really, you both know better. Knock it off.

...She felt dizzy with conflicting sensations. She did not move or turn her head. A hand now sought an opening in the skirt and discovered the buttons. Each button undone by the hand made her gasp with fear

More juice, please.

Oh, good saying please. Okay.

...and relief. the hand waited to see if she protested before proceeding to another button. She did not move.

Then with a dexterity and swiftness she had not expected, the

Mom, listen!

THEY CALL ME BABY DRIVER!
AND ONCE UPON A PAIR OF WHEELS
I HIT THE ROAD AND I GOOOOOOO
WHAT'S MY NUMBER?
I WONDER HOW YOUR ENGINE FEELS!

Oh, very nice.

...the two hands twisted her skirt round so that the opening was at the back.

Again, again!

Sure, Chris. Listen, Mom. Mom, are you listening?

Yes!

Okay - THEY CALL ME BABY DRIVER!
AND ONCE UPON A PAIR OF WHEELS

...In the heaving crowd, now all she could feel was a penis

Mom! Listen.

Argh! Okay!

I HIT THE ROAD AND I GOOOOOO
WHAT'S MY NUMBER?
I WONDER HOW YOUR ENGINE FEELS!

Very good.

...slowly being...

Who sings that song?

You do.

Nooooo, Mom!

Paul Simon. He also sings "Saint Judy's Comet".

Yeah!

You like him.

Yeah.

...into the opening of her skirt.

Cookie?

No, Chris! No cookie!

...Her eyes remained fixed on the man who was mounting the

We both want cookies!

No, guys! No. No cookies until you're finished with dinner.

...scaffold...

WE'RE DONE!

No you are not. Eat more dinner.

I'm stuffed!

Then you don't want a cookie.

Cookie!

No, Chris! Both of you, just stop.

...and with each beat of her heart the penis gained headway. It had traversed the skirt and parted the

DONE! DONE! DONE! DONE!

Oh, fuck it.