Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

sweet in bed, and that's what I like. I can't stand the other. Inever could. That first boy almost turned me off for good, inhigh school. He was like a maniac, all over me!" Sheshuddered at the memory. "In a funny way," she said, "youremind me of Rusty, the way you touch me." As I write theselines at the card table, facing the Chteau Marmont and thesolemnly turning chorine, I feel the tears rising. What am I todo? Randolph has been useless. This morning I met him atWil W7right's on the Strip, near Larue's. He was alreadyhalfway through a double chocolate burnt-almond andpistachio sundae, gaining the sort of oral gratification that,were he not a puritan Jew, a cock might have provided,with far fewer calories. But he is hopeless. His first and onlymarriage ended after one year and though he has notconfided in me what went wrong, I suspect that he wasinadequate if not impotent. Since then, as far as I know,only the theory of sex interests him; the real thing causeshim a profound distress which he relieves with food. "Youmust tell her everything, if you love her," was his profoundadvice, as he munched on three maraschino cherries. "Ican't." "Why not? You wish to exert power over her..." "Onlythat she may exert it over me... "So power is intransitive aswell as transitive? Then you are clearly moving into a newphase." "Whatever the phase, I don't know what to do. If Itell her that I used to be Myron, I destroy Myra... "Not a badidea." I was furious. "You always preferred Myron to me,didn't you?" I let him have it. "And I know why. You were inlove with him, you God-damned closet-queen!" But in myfury I had misplayed my hand for this is exactly the sort of