fell back. All at once a wave of pain and fatigue washed over me, and I rolled over, already lapsing into unconsciousness. Then a shadow crossed my eyes and I opened them to see Tocco going over to Sylvia. He was helping her up. "Sylvia, my dear girl, how happy I am for you. You achieved it."
A pang of bitterness hit at me and I spoke through broken lips. "Tocco, you bastard, you used me! You did this just to get the energy out of me for her orgasm!"
Tocco came over and leaned down. He looked genuinely solicitous. "Don't be angry, Michael. I told you we would be assisting each other in our researches. Besides, think how much you learned this afternoon."
The truth of his words mollified me, but I couldn't resist a final thrust. "Add another item," I said, beginning to go black again, "in the catalogue of ultimate experiences."
Tocco stared at me. "If you fully understood what you said just now, there would be no need for any further work on your part."
I started to reply, but then I passed out.
NINE
WHEN I WOKE up, I heard birds singing. For a moment I thought there might be something wrong with my ears; then I opened my eyes to find myself in a large Victorian-style double bed. It was in a huge room, and one wall was a series of French doors which opened out onto a garden. The sun was shining, and far in the distance I could see mountains. As far as I could tell, I was in paradise.
Except when I tried to sit up, and then a sheet of flaming pain swept over my entire body. Immediately all the memories returned, and I fell back, perspiring. This must be the country place that Susan had mentioned. I wondered whether there would be barbed wire fences, and then I realized that something had changed in me. Tocco would have no fear of freak-outs in the country because the only people who came here were those who had passed certain criteria. For here was where the "real" work was done, and I momentarily shuddered to imagine what could possibly come next.
So far, however, nothing had happened that didn't have its own inner logic, and each event, no matter how grueling, was enlightening. Although I seemed to know no more than I did a week ago, I felt somehow stronger, clearer. My mind was sharp and bright, although I wondered whether my body could take many more scenes like the one with Sylvia.
I began to drift off back to sleep, when the inner door opened and Tocco walked in. This time he wore a simple dressing gown, and carried a tray with orange juice, coffee, and cigarettes. He seemed to be the very soul of good humor.
He sat at the edge of the bed, put the tray on my lap, and smiled. "Michael, I wonder if you realize how much of a fool you are?" I was startled. I hadn't expected invective. "I don't mean to bring your spirits down, but merely to point out that you are yet incapable of distinguishing fact from fantasy." I rolled my eyes back in my head. It was starting already. He saw the gesture and said, "Excuse me, Michael. You're right, I should at least let you have breakfast first." He helped me to sit up, and I took a long, thirsty gulp of freshly squeezed juice. I could feel my blood sugar rising almost immediately, and my outlook brightened. I finished the juice, and it wasn't until I had begun on the coffee and lit a cigarette that he continued.
"You may think it odd that I don't give you more time to recuperate, but you are in an especially receptive state right now. Your mind is clear and your body incapable of producing too much tension. So I want to proceed without delay." He paused a moment, then took a cigarette himself; it was the first time I had seen him smoke. "Of course, you have no difficulty in obvious matters, like crossing the street, where you know that the cars whizzing past, although an illusion in the cosmic sense, can mangle your body on the physical plane. But in sex, where the fine line between so-called reality and so-called illusion is
A pang of bitterness hit at me and I spoke through broken lips. "Tocco, you bastard, you used me! You did this just to get the energy out of me for her orgasm!"
Tocco came over and leaned down. He looked genuinely solicitous. "Don't be angry, Michael. I told you we would be assisting each other in our researches. Besides, think how much you learned this afternoon."
The truth of his words mollified me, but I couldn't resist a final thrust. "Add another item," I said, beginning to go black again, "in the catalogue of ultimate experiences."
Tocco stared at me. "If you fully understood what you said just now, there would be no need for any further work on your part."
I started to reply, but then I passed out.
NINE
WHEN I WOKE up, I heard birds singing. For a moment I thought there might be something wrong with my ears; then I opened my eyes to find myself in a large Victorian-style double bed. It was in a huge room, and one wall was a series of French doors which opened out onto a garden. The sun was shining, and far in the distance I could see mountains. As far as I could tell, I was in paradise.
Except when I tried to sit up, and then a sheet of flaming pain swept over my entire body. Immediately all the memories returned, and I fell back, perspiring. This must be the country place that Susan had mentioned. I wondered whether there would be barbed wire fences, and then I realized that something had changed in me. Tocco would have no fear of freak-outs in the country because the only people who came here were those who had passed certain criteria. For here was where the "real" work was done, and I momentarily shuddered to imagine what could possibly come next.
So far, however, nothing had happened that didn't have its own inner logic, and each event, no matter how grueling, was enlightening. Although I seemed to know no more than I did a week ago, I felt somehow stronger, clearer. My mind was sharp and bright, although I wondered whether my body could take many more scenes like the one with Sylvia.
I began to drift off back to sleep, when the inner door opened and Tocco walked in. This time he wore a simple dressing gown, and carried a tray with orange juice, coffee, and cigarettes. He seemed to be the very soul of good humor.
He sat at the edge of the bed, put the tray on my lap, and smiled. "Michael, I wonder if you realize how much of a fool you are?" I was startled. I hadn't expected invective. "I don't mean to bring your spirits down, but merely to point out that you are yet incapable of distinguishing fact from fantasy." I rolled my eyes back in my head. It was starting already. He saw the gesture and said, "Excuse me, Michael. You're right, I should at least let you have breakfast first." He helped me to sit up, and I took a long, thirsty gulp of freshly squeezed juice. I could feel my blood sugar rising almost immediately, and my outlook brightened. I finished the juice, and it wasn't until I had begun on the coffee and lit a cigarette that he continued.
"You may think it odd that I don't give you more time to recuperate, but you are in an especially receptive state right now. Your mind is clear and your body incapable of producing too much tension. So I want to proceed without delay." He paused a moment, then took a cigarette himself; it was the first time I had seen him smoke. "Of course, you have no difficulty in obvious matters, like crossing the street, where you know that the cars whizzing past, although an illusion in the cosmic sense, can mangle your body on the physical plane. But in sex, where the fine line between so-called reality and so-called illusion is
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