I'm reading "Until August", the last bit of novel that Gabriel Garcia Marquez worked on before he died. It's not his best (he wrote it while his memory and metal abilities were fading) but it still has some very good parts.
"Until August" is the story of a happily married woman who, every August 16th, visits her mother's grave and sleeps with a different man. One encounter was rather interesting in its description:
Okay, nice alluring man, showing her authority and guiding the date, not too bad not too bad. Ana is 47, this man "not over 30".
Young man, dressed a little too well. The line "Everything about him was false as his manners, but his feverish eyes looked eager for compassion" is interesting. He's playing at romance but for what end?
Later on Ana is in her room and he comes to her, even though she said no:
I like "She went along with the game, not as herself but as the protagonist of her own narrative". That's all these one night stands have been, an exciting lively side story to her own life. So who is this man who is playing along with *her*? We still don't know.
Later on, they leave the hotel and go to the man's van to watch the eclipse. But there is no eclipse, she knows this, she only wants sex. And he obliges, taking as much from her as she wants. "The inconceivable pleasure of brute force subjugated by tenderness".
But that revelation at the end.
antiquated appearance, yet not knowing the most mostern dances
smooth in the art of seduction
serial killer of helpless widows
"the composite sketch of a sad vampire."
You're not my one night stand, you're Astarion! (with dyed hair but still. I know a sad vampire when I see one).
