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The
Savage
started
.
That
sensation
on
his
lips
!
He
lifted
a
hand
to
his
mouth
;
the
titillation
ceased
;
let
his
hand
fall
back
on
the
metal
knob
;
it
began
again
.
The
scent
organ
,
meanwhile
,
breathed
pure
musk
.
Expiringly
,
a
sound
-
track
super
-
dove
cooed
"
Oo
-
ooh
"
;
and
vibrating
only
thirty
-
two
times
a
second
,
a
deeper
than
African
bass
made
answer
:
"
Aa
-
aah
.
"
"
Ooh
-
ah
!
Ooh
-
ah
!
"
the
stereoscopic
lips
came
together
again
,
and
once
more
the
facial
erogenous
zones
of
the
six
thousand
spectators
in
the
Alhambra
tingled
with
almost
intolerable
galvanic
pleasure
.
"
Ooh
.
.
.
"
The
plot
of
the
film
was
extremely
simple
.
A
few
minutes
after
the
first
Oohs
and
Aahs
(
a
duet
having
been
sung
and
a
little
love
made
on
that
famous
bearskin
,
every
hair
of
which
–
the
Assistant
Predestinator
was
perfectly
right
–
could
be
separately
and
distinctly
felt
)
,
the
negro
had
a
helicopter
accident
,
fell
on
his
head
.
Thump
!
what
a
twinge
through
the
forehead
!
A
chorus
of
ow
’
s
and
aie
’
s
went
up
from
the
audience
.
The
concussion
knocked
all
the
negro
’
s
conditioning
into
a
cocked
hat
.
He
developed
for
the
Beta
blonde
an
exclusive
and
maniacal
passion
.
She
protested
.
He
persisted
.
There
were
struggles
,
pursuits
,
an
assault
on
a
rival
,
finally
a
sensational
kidnapping
.
The
Beta
blond
was
ravished
away
into
the
sky
and
kept
there
,
hovering
,
for
three
weeks
in
a
wildly
anti
-
social
tête
-
à
-
tête
with
the
black
madman
.
Finally
,
after
a
whole
series
of
adventures
and
much
aerial
acrobacy
three
handsome
young
Alphas
succeeded
in
rescuing
her
.
The
negro
was
packed
off
to
an
Adult
Re
-
conditioning
Centre
and
the
film
ended
happily
and
decorously
,
with
the
Beta
blonde
becoming
the
mistress
of
all
her
three
rescuers
.
They
interrupted
themselves
for
a
moment
to
sing
a
synthetic
quartet
,
with
full
super
-
orchestral
accompaniment
and
gardenias
on
the
scent
organ
.
Then
the
bearskin
made
a
final
appearance
and
,
amid
a
blare
of
saxophones
,
the
last
stereoscopic
kiss
faded
into
darkness
,
the
last
electric
titillation
died
on
the
lips
like
a
dying
moth
that
quivers
,
quivers
,
ever
more
feebly
,
ever
more
faintly
,
and
at
last
is
quiet
,
quite
still
.
But
for
Lenina
the
moth
did
not
completely
die
.
Even
after
the
lights
had
gone
up
,
while
they
were
shuffling
slowly
along
with
the
crowd
towards
the
lifts
,
its
ghost
still
fluttered
against
her
lips
,
still
traced
fine
shuddering
roads
of
anxiety
and
pleasure
across
her
skin
.
Her
cheeks
were
flushed
.
She
caught
hold
of
the
Savage
’
s
arm
and
pressed
it
,
limp
,
against
her
side
.
He
looked
down
at
her
for
a
moment
,
pale
,
pained
,
desiring
,
and
ashamed
of
his
desire
.
He
was
not
worthy
,
not
.
.
.
Their
eyes
for
a
moment
met
.
What
treasures
hers
promised
!
A
queen
’
s
ransom
of
temperament
.
Hastily
he
looked
away
,
disengaged
his
imprisoned
arm
.
He
was
obscurely
terrified
lest
she
should
cease
to
be
something
he
could
feel
himself
unworthy
of
.
"
I
don
’
t
think
you
ought
to
see
things
like
that
,
"
he
said
,
making
haste
to
transfer
from
Lenina
herself
to
the
surrounding
circumstances
the
blame
for
any
past
or
possible
future
lapse
from
perfection
.
"
Things
like
what
,
John
?
"
"
Like
this
horrible
film
.
"
"
Horrible
?
"
Lenina
was
genuinely
astonished
.
"
But
I
thought
it
was
lovely
.
"
