[ot] [!nt] \n2+0\

[integer at www.god-emil.dk]

xmedia at ezaic.de
>
>>do i understand you if i assume that you are in love again, marchioness.
>>well, i am too if you want to call it that. once again. i would be
>>sorry should i have prevented a lover's attack on your beautiful person.
>>through which window did he climb out, may i hope he has broken his
>>neck in doing so.
>
>
>
>fie, valmont. and save your compliments for the lady of your heart wherever this
>organ might be located. i hope for your sake its new sheath gilded. you ought to know
>me better. in love. i thought we agreed that what you call love belongs to the realm of servants.
>how can you consider me capable of such a vulgar stirring. the greatest bliss is the bliss 
>of animals. rarely enough it drops into our lap. you let me feel it once in a while 
>when i still liked to use you for it, valmont, and i hope you didn't leave empty handed either.
>who is the lucky one of the moment. or may we already call her the unlucky one.
>
>
>it is la tourvel. as for your indivisible ...



jealous. you, valmont. what a regression. i could understand you if you
would know him. by the way, i am certain you have met him.
an attractive man. though he looks like you. even birds migrating flutter
in the nets of habit though their flights span continents. turn around once.
his advantage is his youth. in bed as well if you want 2 know. do you want 2 know.
a dream if i assume you are reality, valmont, begging your pardon. in ten years 
perhaps there won't be any difference between you if i could turn you into a stone now
with one loving glance of the medusa. or into a more pleasing substance. a fertile notion:
the museum of our loves. we would have full houses wouldn't we, valmont, with the statues
of our putrefied desires. those dead dreams classified according to the alphabet or
lined up in chronological order, free of the accidents of flesh, not exposed anymore
to the horrors of change. our memory needs those crutches: one doesn't even remember
the various bends of cocks, not to mention faces: a haze. la tourvel is an insult.
i didn't release you into liberty so you could mount a cow, valmont. i could understand it
if you would take an interest in little volange, a vegetable fresh from a convent's discipline,
my virginal niece, but la tourvel. i admit she is a mighty piece of flesh but to be shared with
a husband who has sunk his teeth into it, a loyal husband as i have good reason to fear, and for 
who knows how many years. what's left for you valmont. the dregs. do you seriously want to poke 
around in those muddy leftovers. i pity you, valmont. if she were a whore who had learned her trade.
la merreaux, for example, i would share her with ten men. but the only lady of high society perverse
enough to enjoy herself in wedlock, a bigot with reddened knees from the pew and swollen fingers
from wringing her hands before her father confessor. those hands won't touch a genital, valmont,
without the blessing of the church. i'll bet she's dreaming of immaculate conception when her
loving spouse lowers himself on her with the conjugal intention to make her a child, once every year.
what is the devastation of a landscape compared to the despoiling of lust through the loyalty of
a husband. of course, the count gercourt contemplates the innocence of my niece. in good faith,
by the way; the bill of sale is filled with the magistrate. and perhaps you are afraid
of his competition, he already snatched la vressac from under your nose, and you were two years
younger at the time. you are getting old, valmont. i thought it would be a pleasure for you,
besides a ride on the virgin, to crown the beautiful animal gercourt with the inevitable antlers
before he assumes the gamekeeper's office, and all the poachers of the capital raid his forest
and keep renewing his subscription for his headgear. be a good dog, valmont, and pick up
the scent as long as it is fresh. a little youth in your bed since the mirror doesn't provide it
anymore. why lift your leg at a poor box. or are you pining for the alms of marriage.
shall we give an example to the world and marry each other, valmont.