Sydny circled back to where Julie stood in the entrance to the closet. “The heroine’s name—O—is the shortest possible, though her name is Odile. She is rarely called that. So. O could also stand for object or orifice.”

Julie stared at Sydny wide-eyed. “What happened to O?”

“Adventures.” Sydny’s eyes sparkled in the warm lamplight. “The preface was titled ‘Happiness in Slavery.’”

“How is that possible?”

Sydny shrugged. “It’s a way of life, of stripping away the layers of civilization that bind all adults, layer by painful layer. It’s a way of arriving at the nature of things.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Sydny put a hand on Julie shoulder. “Most people are under the impression that sex is pleasure.”

“It seems to me it is. Or should be.”

“Then why are you so afraid of allowing yourself an orgasm?”

“I … I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s the opposite of complicated. Having an orgasm means letting go—everything you cling to: guilt, fear, shame, the terror of doing something unforgivable.”

“I equate sex with love, with happiness.”

“No, you don’t.” Sydny shook her head. “You equate sex with humiliation, ineptitude, manipulation, and—what am I leaving out? Oh, yes, lies.” Sydny was as unflinching in her gaze as she was in what she was saying. “Happiness is an ideal, something you’ve been told you need to work hard toward, when, in fact, happiness is nothing more than exercising an illusion.”

“You’re saying it’s not real. That I can’t be happy?”

“Not at all. But it can’t be reached until you understand that sex is power. Happiness lies in understanding the true nature of things. Otherwise, what are you? A slave to the illusions you create for yourself.”

“Sydny, you’re scaring me.”

“Only because that new thing you crave is not yet understandable to you. It’s alien, frightening. But think. The so-called laws you grew up with were all meant to inhibit your passions, to drive them underground so they would seem filthy, immoral. But I will tell you this: the only true way to a woman’s heart is along the path of torment.”

Sydny took the hood from Julie’s hand. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t see any reason I should.”

“Look. I told you that sex is power. You don’t believe me? How many women have you seen lose touch with themselves, simply disappear when they attach themselves to a man?” Her lips curved upward. “You’re smart. When you go to political dinners or cocktail parties what do the women look like to you? Ornaments, icing, objects. Isn’t that right.” It wasn’t a question.

Julie continued to look at her, but seemed incapable of forming an answer.