By Elisabeth Barillé
Anaïs Nin est née en 1903 en France. C’est son père, déçu d’avoir une fille, qui a choisi ce prénom aux sonorités ambiguës. Pianiste esthète et pervers, Joaquin Nin abandonne sa femme et ses enfants dix ans plus tard. Adolescente hantée par los angeles littérature puis épouse frustrée d’un banquier anglo-saxon, Américaine à Paris et mondaine malgré elle, Anaïs ne connaît qu’une jouissance : écrire. Elle a trente ans, quand elle rencontre Henry Miller. Elle l’aime, le soutient, le finance. Sage et troublante Anaïs ! Fantaisiste et ascète, insaisissable et un rien magicienne… elle clothes à elle Artaud, Brassaï, Allendy, Rank, Breton, Durrell… Anaïs, c’est un magazine. Cinquante ans d’écriture, quarante-cinq mille pages longtemps enfouies dans une cave de Brooklyn. De cette « confession » monumentale Elisabeth Barillé a tiré un portrait romanesque, tissé dans los angeles matière même de son œuvre, de sa vie.
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Additional info for Anaïs Nin, masquée, si nue
He gave her another dozen hard spanks and then stopped and rubbed. She moaned softly. He pulled her panties half way down her thighs and slipped his fingers between her legs. Not that he needed any confirmation-- the heady smell of her arousal combined with the pleasure of having her so beautifully presented over his lap had already brought him close to orgasm. Her sex was slick and swollen. She pushed her hips back at him eagerly. He laughed and pulled his hand out, giving her several spanks that were a little bit harder than the first set.
He asked solicitously. She shook her head. She couldn't wait for her spanking. Oh please, do it now. Her first spanking after a lifetime of fantasizing. He started the spanking slowly, rubbing in between each smack. It didn't hurt at all-- it just created a delicious sting and tingling and more wetness between her legs. After a while he abandoned the rubbing and picked up speed and the burn started to spread across her bottom. She wriggled a bit in delight. As it started getting too intense, she kicked a leg up and he paused and rubbed.
Here comes Molly,” Bruce, one of their engineers, said, waving his hand to her. Molly smiled her dynamite smile and pointed to the bar. “I'll just get a drink and join you. ” “I'd take another glass of red,” their boss Lupita, VP of Marketing and Sales, piped up. “Sure thing. ” “Twist my arm,” he said. She returned with three glasses of wine and delivered them easily. “You're good at that,” Lupita commented. “I waitressed my way through college,” she grinned. ” Lupita grimaced. ” Molly's face flushed and she blinked rapidly several times.
Anaïs Nin, masquée, si nue by Elisabeth Barillé