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I Tape Record Our Orgasms
by Chloe Simonne
(12/02/09)
 I tape record our orgasms. That way I can prove to
people how well you fucked me. Because sometimes (when you mention other lovers)
I want to kill you. To slip arsenic in your rum and coke; into your tightly rolled
anal-retentive joints; into your lines of cocaine on the coffee table. "Oh yeah,
grab it baby, oh yeah suck it, oh FUCK." That's what you say. I want to play it
for your other lovers. I want to show them they are not as clever as me. I am
his muse, I want to tell them. You are not -- you don't tape record his
orgasms. "Oh yeah, grab it baby, oh yeah suck it, oh FUCK." He says
that to you too, I know this. But you cannot prove it -- you don't have it on
tape. You are not as interesting as me. You don't use a tape
recorder in the bedroom.
The tape recorder is from my childhood. My brother says it's actually
his. My lover says I am brilliant to use a tape recorder in the
bedroom. Because he is narcissistic and horny like me, he likes hearing
his orgasms just as much as I do. We play the tape back in the morning on speed control.
He sounds like The Hulk on slow and Mighty Mouse on fast. We laugh and laugh on the
green sheets in the manhattan bedroom. Hearing our orgasms on tape turns us on, and
so we make love again.
©2009 by Chloe Simonne
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Chloe Simonne is a writer who has just moved from New York to Seattle, Washington.
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