Han Kang - The Vegetarian

“Turn over.”

Using J’s penis as the center, he painted a single huge flower, the crimson of blood, so that it looked as though J’s black pubic hair was the sepals, and his penis the pistil. She sat quietly on the sofa all the while, sipping a cup of tea and carefully watching him work. When he was done, he noticed that J’s penis had stiffened slightly.

After painting the rest of the flowers on J’s torso he took a quick breather, then stood up and replaced the tape in the camcorder with a new one, wanting to make sure there would be plenty of running time. He turned to her and asked her to take her clothes off.

She did as he asked. The light wasn’t as strong as it had been the last time, but the golden cluster of flowers that he’d painted right in the center of her chest still sparkled brilliantly. In contrast to J, she was perfectly composed, as if declaring how much more natural it was to not wear clothes. When she knelt down on the sheet, the entranced look on J’s face didn’t escape him.

Without his giving her any directions, she moved closer to J, and he, as though mirroring her, got into a kneeling position. There was something desolate in the contrast between her still, silent face and her radiant body.

“What should we do now?” J asked, his face red. He was probably nervous at the prospect of having to take the lead; all the same, his penis had stiffened again.

“Sit her on your knees.” He thought it best to refer to her as simply “her.” Now he picked up the camcorder and approached them. “Pull her close. Damn it, haven’t you ever done this before? You’re supposed to be acting. Try touching her breasts or something.”

J wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. But before he could do anything she slowly maneuvered around to face and then straddle him. She slid her hand behind J’s neck and drew him toward her, while her other hand began to stroke the red flower on his chest. Marked with nothing but the breathing of the three people, an amount of time passed that would be impossible to measure. J’s nipples quietly hardened and his penis became erect. She rubbed her neck against J’s like they were two birds caressing, almost as if she’d seen his sketches and knew exactly what he wanted her to do.

“Good. Really good.” He filmed the scene from several angles, eventually finding the best one. “Good…keep going. Lie down like that, on top of each other.”

She put her hand on J’s chest and gently pushed him down onto the sheet, then reached out and began to stroke the red flowers that led down over J’s torso, taking them one by one and slowly making her way toward his crotch. He moved behind her with the camcorder, making sure to capture the dark purple flowers scattered over her back, the Mongolian mark rippling in time with her movements. He clenched his teeth and thought to himself, this is it. Now if only it could be even better.

J’s penis was already fully erect, and he was grimacing as though he couldn’t bear the pressure any longer. She slowly lay down on her stomach, her breasts resting on J’s chest and her buttocks lifting up into the space above them. He filmed the two of them side-on. There was something obscene about the way her back was arched like a cat’s, about the unpainted space around J’s belly button, about his rigid penis. They were almost like two huge, abstracted plants. When she slowly sat up straight, straddling J’s hips, he stammered:

“Perhaps…I mean, I was just thinking.” He looked at her and J in turn. “Could you maybe do it, you know, for real?”

There was no flicker of shock or revulsion in her face, but J suddenly pushed her away as though her skin were burning him. He got to his knees, awkwardly trying to conceal his penis.

“What? You want to make some kind of a porno?”

“If you don’t feel like it, that’s fine. But if it were possible for you to just naturally…”

“That’s it, I’m done.” J stood up.

“Just a minute, wait. I won’t ask you to do anything more. Just what you’ve been doing so far.” He grabbed J by the shoulder. Perhaps he’d used more force than he’d intended, because J grunted and pushed his hand away.

“Hey, come on…there’s no need for that.”

A silent pause. J seemed to soften a little.

“I understand…I’m an artist too, after all. But this kind of thing just…no. Who is this woman, anyway? She doesn’t seem like a prostitute. And even if she were, it still wouldn’t be okay, you know?”

“I understand. Really, I do. I’m sorry.”

J got back onto the sheet, but the sexually charged atmosphere of a few minutes ago had completely fizzled out. He put his arms around her and laid her down, his face set hard as though this were all some form of punishment. Their bodies overlapped like two petals, and she closed her eyes. If J had agreed, she would have gone along without a murmur of protest. He felt sure of that.

“Try moving a bit.”

Slowly, J moved his body back and forth in a pained, stilted mimicry of sex. He watched as the soles of her feet curled up and her hands clasped J’s waist. Her body was sufficiently animated, flushed with desire, to make up for J’s passivity. They spent ten minutes or so in that position, every second of which was clearly repulsive to J, though to him it felt all too short. Still, he managed to get the angles he’d wanted, and some decent images for the tape.

“Are we all done now?” J asked. His skin was flushed red right up to his hair, but it wasn’t from arousal.

“Just once more…this is the last time.” He swallowed. “From behind. Make her lie on her stomach. This really is the last time. It’s the most important scene. Don’t say you can’t.” J burst into a laughter that sounded more like sobbing.

“That’s it. That’s really it. I’m going to stop now before this gets any worse. You’ve got plenty of inspiration. Now I know what it feels like for porno actors. It’s miserable!”

He put a restraining hand on J’s shoulder, but J shook him off and began to get dressed. He gritted his teeth and watched as his work, the still-intact whirl of flowers, disappeared beneath J’s plain-colored shirt. “It’s not that I don’t understand, okay? Don’t think I’m some kind of prude. I guess I’m just more…more restrained than I thought I was. I agreed to do it because I was curious, but I just can’t go through with it. I guess there are just parts of myself that I need to, to awaken, but…I need some time first, I’m sorry.”

J was evidently sincere, and seemed hurt more than anything else. The young man bowed to him, giving only a cursory glance over in her direction, then walked briskly to the door.

—

“I’m sorry,” he said as J’s car roared out of the front yard. She didn’t reply, just put on her sweater and stepped into her jeans. But then, instead of zipping them up, she just giggled into the air.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because I’m all wet…”

He looked over at her, feeling as dazed as though he’d just received a blow to the head. She had her hand on the half-up zipper and was hesitating, looking as though she couldn’t bring herself to pull it either up or down. Only then did he realize that he was still holding the camcorder. He set it down, strode over to the door, which J had left open, and locked it. Just in case, he put the upper security chain on too. Walking over almost at a run, he clutched her to him and the two of them tumbled down onto the sheet. When he tugged her jeans down to her knees she said, “No.”

It wasn’t just verbally that she rejected him — she shoved him away roughly, stood up and pulled her jeans back up. He watched as she did up the zipper and fastened the button. He stood up, stepped close to her and pushed her still-fevered body up against the wall. But when he pressed his lips firmly against hers, probing with his tongue, she shoved him away again.