murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

Midori came for me at 9.30 on Sunday morning. I had just woken up
and hadn't washed my face. Somebody pounded on my door, yelling
"Hey, Watanabe, it's a woman!" I went down to the lobby to find
Midori sitting there with her legs crossed wearing an incredibly short
denim skirt, yawning. Every student passing by on his way to
breakfast slowed down to stare at her long, slim legs. She did have
really nice legs.
"Am I too early?" she asked. "I bet you just woke up."
"Can you give me 15 minutes? I'll wash my face and shave." "I don't
mind waiting, but all these guys are staring at
my legs."
"What d'you expect, coming into a men's dorm in such a short skirt?
Of course they're going to stare."
"Oh, well, it's OK. I'm wearing really cute panties today - all pink and
frilly and lacy."
"That just makes it worse," I said with a sigh. I went back to my room
and washed and shaved as fast as I could, put on a blue button-down
shirt and a grey tweed sports coat, then went back down and ushered
Midori out through the dorm gate. I was in a cold sweat.
"Tell me, Watanabe," Midori said, looking up at the dorm buildings,
"do all the guys in here wank - rub-a-dub-dub?" "Probably," I said.
"Do guys think about girls when they do that?"
"I suppose so. I kind of doubt that anyone thinks about the stock
market or verb conjugations or the Suez Canal when they wank. Nope,
I'm pretty sure just about everybody thinks about girls."
"The Suez Canal?"
"For example."
"So I suppose they think about particular girls, right?" "Shouldn't you
be asking your boyfriend about that?" I
said. "Why should I have to explain stuff like this to you on a Sunday
morning?"
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