I await Memnon's return with a heavy dread. I have been idle, and avid, and occupied, and at length, after due consideration, took Schera back to my bed, and all was forgotten and forgiven in a long evening of lovemaking that was all all my own and inventive. So compliant was she in her lust that I grew bold to do with her what I desired when I had lain with Hephaestion, and I was amazed that in this brief span of two mere weeks I had seduced her down to pure Dionysion orgy; and secretly, though my passion was somewhat better slaked than with the traditional feminine method, I was chagrined that she showed no semblance of that moral purity and chastity that had endeared her to me; that modesty of sexuality had been abandoned to pure lust that I had thought was only in men.
Her fertility was on her, and I wondered yet again if she would be ripened by me from our intercourse. There was no way to tell; though it seemed not. Apollion proved right here too, for there was a rage of lust in women when they are fertile, that is not present at other times; and though I had cowed her briefly on the first night of her passion, I respected it carefully during the ensuing days, and this increase in her lust allowed me to take her anally, which felt more right to me. This sex brought her to hot climax as well, I must be careful not to abandon myself to wanton rapine, for women are more delicate, and she were virgin to this. And as long as I pleased her womanhood immediately after with my mouth, or took her with some violence in her womb, for a climax of this kind stoked her to other desire that must then be slaked again. And even once, she were convinced to take the phallic fetish to me, so that I might too feel penetration and using this, she gave me climax I had not had since I had lost my Erastes. It was better than nothing, and better than the empty hunger I felt previously, that I had not dared ask for. My body had been schooled to be penetrated, and I could not make it otherwise in a day or a week. There was release in this I did not get from the gentler action of womanhood. But I knew even in these more demanding requirements that nothing Schera could do or comply in, would make her a man, or a warrior, or Hephaestion.
So the sickness of my love remains. I can convince myself in the moments of my sobriety, that I am justified in it, and that no harm would come of seeking once again a man for a night of pleasures; another lover to eclipse the thing I so wanted and could not ever have again. It was as though my body were itself a woman in its own frenzy of fertility and demanded to be womaned; for there is that part of me that is woman, and has within it that petulance I see so clearly in Schera; I feel these same petulances, and this same impatience for release, for gratification, to be taken by him and slaked by his thrusts and yet am pressured by my seniors, by my mother, by my race, to turn my passion to something all masculinity, and that somehow, does not seem to be all of me. And this, I cannot explain.