Lemondrink Man said, handing Estha his penis through his
soft white muslin dhoti, ‘T’ll get you your drink. Orange?
Lemon?’ Estha held it because he had to. ‘Orange? Lemon?” the Man said. “Lemonorange?”
“Lemon, please,’ Estha said politely.
He got a cold bottle and a straw. So he held a bottle in
one hand and a penis in the other. Hard, hot, veiny. Not a
moonbeam. The Orangedrink Lemondrink Man’s hand closed over Estha’s. His thumbnail was long like a woman’s. He moved
Estha’s hand up and down. First slowly. Then fastly. The lemondrink was cold and sweet. The penis hot and hard. The piano keys were watching.
‘So your grandmother runs a factory?” the Orangedrink
Lemondrink Man said.