Mickey Rooney and Ava Gardner continued…
We were both athletic in bed, and pretty verbal, too. Once Ava lost her Southern reticence, she seemed to enjoy using the f-word. And I didn’t mind a bit, when, for example, she would look me straight in the eye, raise a provocative eyebrow, and say, “Let’s fuck, Mickey. Now.” Some years later, Hedda Hopper would say of Ava, “That girl was made to love and be loved.” I had to agree with that judgment.
Around midnight, she flounced out and drove herself home. About three in the morning, I slipped in to bed, apologizing to Ava and stroking the back of her neck, something she always loved. She became aroused and soon we were in passionate embrace. Afterward, she slipped out of bed, then turned to me as I lay there luxuriating in the good feelings, watching her. Shew as nude and glowing. She was never more beautiful. But then she surprised me with a snarl: “Listen, you son of a bitch,” she said, “If you knock me up, I’ll kill you.” Then she ran for the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it.
- Life is Too Short by Mickey Rooney