How long would it take to know the woman, his woman? Two years living with her before he learned to identify the particular spasm as her coming? He would enter her throbbing, and she would close around him. And somewhere, as their hips swung, the bottoms of her feet stroking the fat of his calves, her thunderous buns rocking in the seat of his palms, a muscle would clutch at him, and he'd feel the tremor begin at the tip of his joint. Two years it took to distinguish her tremor from his pleasure, her orgasm from the vibration in his hands, in his calves, the quivering in his tightened balls. Two years before her calling out his name in that way would not catch him by suprise. How much longer would it take to learn all of Velma? . . She veered sharply to avoid things he did not see. - Toni Cade Bambara, The Salt Eaters