Holy Skirts
A Novel of a Flamboyant Woman Who Risked All for Art
Chapter OneBerlin 1904
Elsa had never been like the other girls she knew, modest and squeamish about their bodies. Men seemed to sense this. When she was twelve, the doctor, while examining her, had winked and pinched her breasts, and she had been stunned at the sweet stars of pain there, the moist heat between her legs. She had been infatuated with him for weeks, inventing fevers and asking him about his ornithology prints on the examining-room wall. Then there had been the fisherman's son who met her twice at a certain spot in the woods and, laying her down in the leaves, had let her touch his penis, the little eye with its crumpled pink hood. It amused her the way it stiffened and grew in her hand as if she had commanded it with a spell, and when the semen spilled on her arm, it felt like tears. There was the shy milk boy, whom she took behind the house to a little shed where the shovels and gardening tools were kept, and when she put his hand under her skirt, on her thighs above her stockings, he pushed her up again ... read full excerpt from Holy Skirts ebook
