Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

pulling up trousers and shorts in front; nevertheless, the lineof his belt was two inches below the navel and could not, inhis present position, be pulled higher. As a result, thetimberline of pubic hair was briefly revealed, brieflybecause he promptly placed both hands over himself in anattempt to hide the quarry from the hunter's approach. Onhis back, bare feet pointed and chest streaked with sweat,he seemed smaller than in fact he was, already more boythan man, despite the mature muscularity of the torso. Theprocess of diminishing was well begun. He looked up atme, apprehensively. "Is there much morel got to do?" "Wemust both follow the chart." I was enigmatic as I picked up awooden tongue depressor. "Open your mouth." He obeyed.I pressed down the pink tongue until he gagged, noting, as Idid, the whiteness of the teeth and the abnormal salivationthat fear sometimes creates. "You take good care of yourteeth." I gave him the sort of grudging compliment the sternnurse gives a child. "Your body, too. I was happily surprisedto find that you were clean in places most boys your ageneglect." Carefully I was reducing his status from man toboy to child to--ah, the triumph! He responded numbly to theprogression, blinking with embarrassment. "Now put yourhands behind your head." Slowly he obeyed, aware that Icould now see at least a quarter of an inch of dark pubichair, surprisingly thick and in texture coarser than the finehairs on the rest of his body. A pulse just above the navelbeat rapidly, causing the entire stomach to quiver like somefrightened small beast. I let my hand rest lightly on his navel.Crisp hairs tickled my palm as Tin turn tickled them. I could