From Ian Fleming's "On Her Majesty's Secret Service"
CHAPTER 4
(Of Tracy, in her suite after a "chance" meeting at the high table.)
He locked the door behind him and came over and sat on her bed and put one hand firmly on the little hill that was her left breast. "Now listen, Tracy," he began, meaning to ask her at least one or two questions, find out something about this wonderful girl who did hysterical things like gambling without the money to meet her debts, driving like a potential suicide, hinting that she had had enough of life.
But the girl reached up a swift hand that smelt of Guerlain's "Ode" and put it across his lips. "I said 'no conversation'. Take off those clothes. Make love to me. You are handsome and strong. I want to remember what it can be like. Do anything you like. And tell me what you like and what you would like from me. Be rough with me. Treat me like the lowest whore in creation. Forget everything else. No questions. Take me."
© 1963 by Glidrose Productions Ltd.