More from Nathaniel Branden's "My Years with Ayn Rand" -- this time, p. 161, starting a new section within a chapter --
On the sofa, three members of our group were reading. Two days earlier, Ayn and I had lain there, embracing. I looked at Ayn and enjoyed thinking, in this moment, in this setting, that I knew every detail of the body underneath her dress.
Again, on p. 171 --
This Saturday evening I looked around the living room at our family. Frank and Joan were once again locked in private conversation -- about art, I assumed -- and Ayn said to me, "I don't want to disturb Frank. Let's you and I get the coffee and the pastry. Will you help me?" When we were alone in the kitchen, Ayn turned and whispered, "Isn't it wonderful, darling?" I knew that she meant all the elements of her life at present: our affair, Frank's discovery of painting, the Collective's response to the novel, and the emotional vibrations of joy and excitement in the room tonight.
"Yes," I said, meaning it. "It's wonderful."
For a brief instant, she stepped forward, pressing against me and smiling like a schoolgirl, who was delighted by her own daring. I responded by holding her ferociously, moving my hand along her thigh. I felt desire -- and a tenderness that was almost painful.
. . .
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