murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"Go ahead. Give it a try."
I lifted her hips and went in as far as I could go, then savoured the
sensation of moving in a circular pattern until, having enjoyed it to the
full, I let myself come.
Altogether, we joined our bodies four times that night. At the end each
time, Reiko would lie in my arms trembling slightly, eyes closed, and
release a long sigh.
"I never have to do this again," said Reiko, "for the rest of my life. Oh,
please, Watanabe, tell me it's true. Tell me I can relax now because
I've done enough to last a lifetime."
"Nobody can tell you that," I said. "There's no way of knowing."
I tried to convince Reiko that taking a plane would be faster and
easier, but she insisted on going to Asahikawa by train.
"I like the ferry to Hokkaido. And I have no desire to fly through the
air," she said. I accompanied her to Ueno Station. She carried her
guitar and I carried her suitcase. We sat on a platform bench waiting
for the train to pull in. Reiko wore the same tweed jacket and white
trousers she had on when she arrived in Tokyo.
"Do you really think Asahikawa's not such a bad place?" she asked.
"It's a nice town. I'll visit you there soon."
"Really?"
I nodded. "And I'll write to you."
"I love your letters. Naoko burned all the ones you sent her. And they
were such great letters too!"
"Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in
your heart will stay; keep them, and what
vanishes will vanish."
"You know, Watanabe,
Asahikawa by myself. So be sure to write to me. Whenever I read
your letters, I feel you're right there next to me."
"If that's what you want, I'll write all the time. But don't worry. I know
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