Equation

By José Lourenço

“Do I have any power over you?” the man asked the woman as they sat across each other at the café table.

“No,” she replied.

“Do you feel safe with me at all times? Can you easily say no to me if you want to?”

“Of course, I can.”

“Alright then,” he leaned forward slightly. “If I say I find you very sensual and that I want to make love to you, would you accuse me of sexual harassment?”

She stopped drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. After giving him a quizzical look, she said, “No, I wouldn’t.”

He nodded and turned to look at the cars passing on the street.

“Well, do you?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“A lot of men would find you attractive.”

“Yes,” she leaned forward now. “But do you find me attractive?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“I do,” she replied without hesitation.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“Let me see,” she sipped her coffee and looked him up and down with an air of slow deliberation. “Yes, I would.”

He nodded again and gazed into his own coffee cup.

“So do you find me attractive?” she persisted.

“Not really,” he replied. “I find you sensual.”

“What’s the big difference? Which is better?”

“It’s not important. What counts is that we are agreeable to sleeping with each other.”

“Yes, that's right.” They both leaned back in their chairs.

           “But there must not be even the slightest power imbalance in our sleeping together.” He adjusted his teaspoon to lie parallel to the table edge.

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot lie upon your body when we make love. You can’t be below me. That would be subjugation. I can’t lie below you either.”

“Oh,” she cupped her chin with her hand. “What about doggie style?”

“No. That would be derogatory to you. I can’t treat you like an animal.”

“Woman on top is out? Alright, we could spoon each other, that way we aren’t on top of each other.”

He seemed to warm up to that idea, but quickly creased his forehead again. “No. Even though we would be on even ground, spooning will imply you have your back to me. That’s not politically correct. Can’t do.”

Their minds ran through various permutations and combinations and contortions in bed, as they sipped their coffee. Nothing seemed to fit.

“Oh,” she piped up. “I got it. We could do it standing. We face each other, you hold my waist, I lift one leg and wrap it around your buttocks. And then we fuck.”

He pondered over her proposal. Standing. Facing. Equal. Equal?

“Alas, no.” He shook his head in mild exasperation. “One of your legs will be off the ground, taking support from my body. That’s an unbalanced sexual power equation.”

She sighed and quaffed the rest of her cup, wincing at the bitter dregs of ground beans.

“Then we can’t make love,” she conceded.

“No, we can’t. It doesn’t work out,” he shrugged.

They rose, picked up their coats and headed towards the café door.

          “We could just kiss, you know,” he suggested.

“We could,” she said, glancing up at his face.

“But no. I’m taller. You have to look up to me as we kiss. Won’t do.”

“I could stand on a stool.”

“Standing on a stool to achieve parity in our heights would be demeaning to you. I can’t allow that.”

“Yes, you are right.”

He thought of the whisky-on-the-rocks he would have with his friends later in the evening, as he walked out. She thought of the movie she would watch before going to bed. They nodded to each other outside the café, waved briefly and then walked away.    

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