Little Birds by Anaïs Nin Page A

sensibilities. It was as if she had taken new drugs that made the entire body more alive to caresses, to a touch, to the very air. She felt her dress on her skin like a hand. It seemed to her that everything was touching her like a hand, teasing her breasts, her thighs continuously. She had discovered a new realm, a realm of suspense and watchfulness, of erotic wakefulness such as she had never known.
    One day when she was walking with him, she lost the heel of one shoe. He had to carry her. That night he took her, in the candlelight. He was like a demon crouching over her, his hair wild, his charcoal-black eyes burning into hers, his strong penis pounding into her, into the woman whose submission he first demanded, submission to his desire, his hour.

The Chanchiquito
    When Laura was about sixteen, she remembered, she was told endless stories of life in Brazil by an uncle who had lived there many years before. He laughed at the inhibitions of Europeans. He said that in Brazil people made love like monkeys, frequently and easily; women were accessible and willing; everybody acknowledged his sensual appetite. He told laughingly of the advice he had given to a friend who was going to Brazil. He had said, "You must take two hats."
    "Why?" asked the friend. "I do not want to be loaded with baggage."
    "Nevertheless," said Laura's uncle, "you must take two hats with you. The wind may carry one of them off."
    "But I can pick it up, can't I?" asked the friend.
    "In Brazil," said Laura's uncle, "you cannot lean over or..."
    He also claimed that in Brazil there existed an animal called the chanchiquito. It looked like a very small pig with an overdeveloped snout. The chanchiquito had a passion for running up the skirts of women and inserting his snout between their legs.
    One day, according to her uncle, a very pompous and aristocratic lady arranged a meeting with her lawyer about a will. He was a white-haired, distinguished old man she had known for many years. She was a widow, a very reserved, imposing woman, sumptuously dressed in full satin skirts, with lace collar and cuffs neatly starched and a veil over her face. She sat stiffly like some personage out of an old painting, resting one hand on her parasol, the other on the arm of a chair. They had a quiet and methodical talk together about details of the will.
    The old lawyer had once been in love with the lady, but after ten years of courtship had not been able to win her. Now there was always a certain tone of flirtation in their voices, but an imposing, dignified flirtation, more like ancient gallantry.
    The meeting took place in the lady's country house. It was warm and all the doors were open. One could see the hills. The Indian servants were carrying on some celebration. They had surrounded the house with torches. Perhaps frightened by this and unable to escape the circle of fire, a certain small animal scurried along and into the house. Two minutes later the grand old lady was screaming and contorting herself in her chair, with an attack of hysterics. The servants were called. The witch doctor was called. The witch doctor and the lady locked themselves in her room together. When the witch doctor came out, he was carrying the chanchiquito in his arms, and the chanchiquito looked worn, as though his expedition had almost cost him his life.
    This story had frightened Laura—the idea of an animal burrowing his head between her legs. She was afraid even to insert her finger. But at the same time the story revealed to her that between a woman's legs there was room for an animal's long snout.
    Then one day during vacation, when she was playing on the lawn with other friends, and had thrown herself back to laugh at some story or other, a big police dog was immediately upon her, sniffing and smelling at her clothes, and he stuck his nose between her legs. Laura screamed and pushed him off. The sensation had frightened and excited her at the same time.
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    A ND NOW Laura was