She thought, I want someone to lick it, soothe it like a cat lapping cream

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"I've never heard you speak like this, Carol."

"Don't you know, darling, that it's very hard for me to adapt to other men. You broke me in very uniquely. I don't think any of them could possibly service me."

"I don't want them to. I don't want another man to touch you."

"And women?"

"That's disgusting."

"Didn't you have Harry in prison, Phillip? You can be honest with me."

"What is this, third degree? Words like 'have' and 'have not.'"

"I notice, that since your return, you have had an almost incessant desire to put your remarkable cock in me from the rear."

"Your cunt and ass are remarkably similar, my sweet."

"How could you."

"And I love both equally. You must know that. I think of your cunt every time I look at you. I can't watch your mouth without wanting to push myself into it. Forgive me if I think of you as a creature with numerous convenient openings. But you don't know how a prick aches sometimes. You can't imagine."

tobacco stained, wine stained, yogurt, coffee and come stained sheets

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“So boring,” she groaned into the pillow. “So boring, so boring, so boring. All I do is lie in this filthy bed and smoke and talk and sleep and put that thing that manages to get hard into my anatomical depressions. I hate it, I loathe myself and you and Paris and everything that’s stinking of decomposition. I’m going to buy a clock, Macdonald, an alarm clock, and set it for eight o’clock and find out what the world’s doing in the morning and push into crowded cafeterias at one o’clock and read newspapers and see the latest films and hate the bad guys and like the good guys and live with life and die when I’m dead. I’m going to drink one cup of coffee in the morning and one cup of wine at night. I’m going to sleep when it’s dark and wake when that bell calls me and I’m going to sleep alone, all alone, until I find a man who knows when I’m in the bed with him and wants me there and keeps me there.”

“And you’ll sleep for exactly eight hours and fuck for exactly twenty-two minutes every Saturday night. And be pregnant exactly eighteen months and have exactly two children, an exact boy and an equally exact girl and live exactly as long as you breathe and die exactly once, being exactly exact all the time so that exactly nothing happens except exactly.”

Davy puts on Jimi Hendrix, I slip out of my underpants.

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Panama Paul sang, “Some black snake is sucking my rider's tongue...”

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there are more liquor stores, more churches, more whorehouses, more lying, more laughter, more screwing, fighting and footracing, more numbers players, more freeloaders, more sports, more bars, more jukeboxes, more jazz, more crime, more chitterlings eaten, more singing and dancing, more knife-toting and loud-mouthing, more praying and shouting, more credit-buying, more ducking and dodging the collectors, more worrying and complaining, and with all of that more fun to be had than in any other city in the world.

“I hear Mamie has cancer in her rectum,” some woman whispered. 

“That wouldn't surprise me, dear,” her companion whispered back. 

“She's been named correspondent in you-know-whose divorce.” 

“I know, it took place right here on this very sofa.” 

“I heard he was a homo.” 

“Little difference that makes to Mamie, as long as he is rich and white and has a thing.” 

 “Don't be too sure about the thing, dear.” Her companion laughed cattily.