Conan and Naomi (standard:non fiction, 1608 words)
Author: GXD	Added: Oct 19 2009	Views/Reads: 3237/2047	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Conan is a mischievous sex nut. Naomi wants things both ways: no sex. Can this be the solution to the world's overpopulation problem?

Conan and Naomi 

"Erotica," declared Conan, "can't substitute for the real thing!"  He
paced nervously before Naomi, strutting you might say, waddling his fat 
paunch like a goose, head down, beak clacking.  "What man, woman or 
child in its right mind would want to read about titillating when they 
could be titillated?  Would Sonia Braga leave off humping her bus 
driver long enough to peruse a prize paper on `Nineteenth Century 
Perversions'?  What would Anais Nin choose to do?" 

"You've taken altogether too narrow a view," Naomi replied.  "After all,
erotica is verbal, visual, artistic I'll admit, but ... well, you've 
described erotic odors, and the perfume industry lives off this.  
Haven't you ever swallowed a whole peeled Kiwi fruit or a ripe fig?  If 
that isn't erotic, I don't know what is!  Give me half a chance and 
I'll fill every hour of the day with one erotic experience or another 
and never resort to touching myself, or anyone else, for that matter."  
By now her voice was a little piqued, her peach-blossom cheeks were as 
red as Bing cherries, her legs crossed to the left, away from him. 

Conan is a mischievous sex nut.  Naomi wants things both ways: no sex. 

Everything Conan says has sexual overtones, undertones and implications.
 He points to the clock tower with its pointed, overhanging steeple and 
asks, "Is that the Penis building?", or fondles a pair of big tits -- 
imaginary tits, suspended in mid air, breast high -- and comments, "So 
round, so firm, so fully packed just like a Lucky Strike -- Oh, sorry 
Naomi.  I forgot you gave up smoking." 

On the other hand, Naomi is fiercely independent.  When she's not on
water skis, she's hanging over the beam of a swift sailboat or climbing 
the slopes of a half-dead volcano.  Nevertheless, Naomi likes a man to 
do the dishes, carry baggage, fix things around the house (upholster 
chairs, put up towel racks), buy her dinner and a drink, pay her 
compliments, etc. 

"Listen," says Conan, "I'd like your opinion on something." 

Naomi turns away.  "I've got to go dry my hair." 

Conan paced, pondering.  Finally, he accused her.  "You've been watching
too much Television.  You're bombed out on commercials."  It sounded 
weak and it was. 

"The television has been broken for nearly a year."  That ended the
discussion. 

Naomi got up and began doing noisy things in the other room.  Conan
pondered Erotica.  He wondered if sensual contact was more acute in 
deep space -- whether the deep-probe electric vibrator really was the 
answer to every woman's dream.  He mentally sniffed his memories of 
"Chanel No. 5, Emeraud, Tabu, April Mist, Ambush, Rose Blush, White 
Shoulders" and that putrid essence which came in a cat-shaped bottle.  
None of them aroused him.  Why were these supposedly exotic perfumes 
erotic?  His memory fondled the images of Goddesses: Aphrodite, Venus, 
Minerva, Frigga, Freya, Samputi, Urtha, Hebe, Ceres and the Nymphs and 
Naiads.  Nothing.  He fondled the images of Gods.  When he confronted 
Neptune, he got so grossed out, Naomi had to run in to see what all the 
ugly noise was about. 

They had reached the nadir of Erotica. 

"How can I show you," Naomi said, "that erotic fantasies arouse and
satisfy just like the burning fever of love, caressing, tickling, 
stimulating, rubbing, penetrating and receiving?  Do I have to 
demonstrate?" 

"I certainly won't take your word for it," he replied. 

"Well, Conan, you're a lost cause.  I've got to do some laundry. 
Coming?"  She turned back to the bedroom and began rummaging in 
drawers.  His X-ray vision saw beyond the wall.  She was gathering up 
ruffled blouses and stroking the waistline creases, touching each 
button under the ruffle, tweaking it between her finger and her thumb, 
as you might tweak a nipple to be sure it was tightly attached to the 


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