She came to zorba at an age when she had not lacked in a formal experience. But the formality was not able to relate itself to the personal welling up she was encountering.
Zorba was a master warrior.
A master in that he had an impeccable sense of prediction, and a warrior in that there was an internal preparation for any eventuality. Zorba identified her deeper need. The need to not just theorize, but have the first hand sensation.
He had shunned the theory, that he could be seen as a master of experience.
He got her exposed totally that she could stand in the nude and take commands. she never once thought what zorba thought or felt. He could take her to his room and tell her to strip and squat as if she were to pee- on her haunches.
She would silently do as told without a demur or a murmur. The sense of shame and degradation she had felt as a novice wasn’t there. But a new found joy in surrender, with a sense of resignation.
He moved his fingers straight to her twat and pinchingly took the clitoridal almond between his index and thumb. He quickly squeezingly identified the – what an allopath calls analogous to the penis. The speed with which he got the spot was baffling.
The mare a bridle, the yak a nose ring and a cow a rope strung thru her nostril. But for the woman the remnant strain of a man, hidden deep in her private parts, which she has access- but would be denied unity if she played the man too!
Now she wanted him to play what she thought a man ought to. And zorba played that to a tee.