murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"What kind of stuff do you force on people or they force on you?"
Midori put an ice-cube in her mouth and sucked on it for a while.
"Do you want to get to know me better?" she asked. "Yeah, kind of."
"Hey, look, I just asked you, "Do you want to get to know me better?'
What sort of answer is that?"
"Yes, Midori, I would like to get to know you better," I said. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Even if you had to turn your eyes away from what you saw?
'Are you that bad?"
"Well, in a way," Midori said with a frown. "I want another drink."
I called the waiter and ordered a fourth round of drinks. Until they
came, Midori cupped her chin in her hand with her elbow on the bar. I
kept quiet and listened to Thelonious Monk playing "Honeysuckle
Rose". There were five or six other customers in the place, but we
were the only ones drinking alcohol. The rich smell of coffee gave the
gloomy interior an intimate atmosphere.
"Are you free this Sunday?" Midori asked.
"I think I told you before, I'm always free on Sunday. Until I go to
work at six."
"OK, then, this Sunday, will you hang out with me?"
"Sure," I said.
"I'll pick you up at your dorm Sunday morning. I'm not sure exactly
what time, though. Is that OK?"
"Fine," I said. "No problem."
"Now, let me ask you: do you have any idea what I would like to do
right now?"
"I can't imagine."
"Well, first of all, I want to lie down in a big, wide, fluffy bed. I want
to get all comfy and drunk and not have any donkey shit anywhere
nearby, and I want to have you lying down next to me. And then, little
by little, you take off my clothes. Sooo tenderly. The way a mother
undresses a little child. Sooo softly."
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