murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"I don't know, I've never done it with so many restrictions before," I
said.
"Will you just think about me?"
"All right, I'll think about you."
"You know, Watanabe, I don't want you to get the wrong impression -
that I'm a nymphomaniac or frustrated or a tease or anything. I'm just
interested in that stuff. I want to know about it. I grew up surrounded
by nothing but girls in a girls' school, you know that. I want to find out
what guys are thinking and how their bodies are put together. And not
just from pull-out sections in the women's magazines but actual case
studies."
"Case studies?" I groaned.
"But my boyfriend doesn't like it when I want to know things or try
things. He gets angry, calls me a nympho or crazy. He won't even let
me give him a blow job. Now, that's one thing I'm dying to study."
"Uh-huh."
"Do you hate getting blow jobs?"
"No, not really, I don't hate it."
"Would you say you like it?"
"Yeah, I'd say that. But can we talk about this next time? Here it is, a
really nice Sunday morning, and I don't want to ruin it talking about
wanking and blow jobs. Let's talk about something else. Is your
boyfriend at the same university as us?"
"Nope, he goes to another one, of course. We met at school during a
club activity. I was in the girls' school, he was in the boys', and you
know how they do those things, joint concerts and stuff. We got
serious after our exams, though. Hey, Watanabe."
"What?"
"You only have to do it once. Just think about me, OK?"
"OK, I'll give it a try, next time," I said, throwing in the towel.
We took a commuter train to Ochanomizu. When we transferred at
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