The revolutionary woman knows the world she seeks to overthrow is precisely one in which love between equal human beings is well nigh impossible. We are still part of the ironical working-out of this, our own cruel contradiction. One of the most compelling facts which can unite women and make us act is the overwhelming indignity or bitter hurt of being regarded as simply __he other_, __n object_, __ommodity_, __hing_. We act directly from a consciousness of the impossibility of loving or being loved without distortion. But we must still demand now the preconditions of what is impossible at the moment. It is a most disturbing dialectic, our praxis of pain.

Sarah, I__ going to take care of you whether you like it or not.

Honey, I have a feeling he doesn__ think of you as a friend. Have you seen the way he looks at you?__he glanced at him and as if he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Soft and hard all at once. __eah,_ Mel said. __e promised to stop doing that.

You__e a good date,_ he said.__ou thought of it as a date?__e nodded. __rom the beginning.

She liked his unique smell, and it turned on all five of her senses, wanting to see him naked, touch him while naked, hear him as he moaned while he made love, taste his skin, and feel his naked body as she seduced him with the trailing of hungry fingers.

I__l always be your friend,_ he said. __our best friend, if you let me. But I want to be your lover, too._ He groaned and shifted in his chair. __oon. I want to be that soon._ Then a look came over him. __h Gina_I didn__ even court you! God, I should date you first before I beg you to take off your clothes!