Most of them had kept their costumes on and headed straight for the bar to celebrate with the guests, and Jill and Hubert were the last two in the dressing room. Jill had hung up the wet dirndl to dry. In her old-fashioned undies she sat in front of one of the two mirrors, her face shining. Hubert had disappeared into the props room, and Jill was taking off her makeup. Suddenly he stood behind her, in lederhosen and checkered shirt, almost the identical costume to the yokel whom Jill had married in the play.
Aren’t you natty, she said, laughing and getting up. You should wear lederhosen more often.
Hubert took a step toward her and took her in his arms and kissed her on the mouth.
Toni! How could you! she resumed her role. You could at least wash your hands after milking.
Toni’s answer was a certain laugh line in every performance, but Hubert didn’t speak, just went on kissing Jill. He held her so hard it almost hurt. She responded to his kiss, and as though that was an invitation, he started undressing her. He kissed her on the throat and collarbone, and when they were both standing there in their shirts, he turned her around and penetrated her. Not so rough, said Jill, you’re hurting me. But Hubert seemed not to hear. In the mirror she caught a glimpse of his eyes, they were glazed like a drunk’s.
Be gentle, she whispered, I haven’t slept with a man in a long time.
During the early days in the club she had had occasional affairs with guests, and for one season she and the chef had been an item. But he had gotten transferred by the club to southern Turkey, and she hadn’t wanted to go with him. Over time, she had felt less and less like getting involved with a man and had contented herself with the occasional flirtation.
Hubert moved faster and faster, then he groaned, jerked once or twice, and collapsed heavily against her. After a while he picked himself up and stepped away from her. Jill could feel the sperm trickling down her leg.
Come on, she said and took him by the hand.
It was dark in the theater, the only light was from the green emergency exit signs. They lay in the bed that stood on the edge of the stage.
Are you sure no one will come in? whispered Hubert.
Don’t worry, said Jill, no one before the cleaners in the morning. They embraced and kissed, then Jill sat on top of Hubert and pulled her chemise over her head. It was strange, making love onstage. Jill shut her eyes and moved slowly. Hubert lay very still now. When she opened her eyes once briefly, she saw him looking up at her with a startled expression.
Gillian was seventeen. She was standing by the window of the vacation home with her bare elbows propped on the rough sill, looking up at the sky. The night was full of noises and smells. She was in love, at that time she was often in love, little things were enough to get her dreaming as well as stop the dreams. Everything that happened to her seemed to turn into feeling right away.
She shut the window and went down the stairs. The house was locked, but you didn’t need a key to leave it. It was cool outside. She was barefoot and wasn’t wearing a jacket, and she was freezing, but that was part of it too. She walked along the road toward the river, ready at any time to duck among the grass if a car passed. After a while the road entered a wood, not much farther to go now. She hardly saw anything in the wood and had to walk more slowly. From the main road on the other side of the gully she heard the occasional car, but there were things closer at hand that she heard too, in the wood, as though the darkness was subtly moving, a little quiver in the atmosphere. When she got to the serpentines that led down to the river, she could already make out the hotel lights. The forest was thinner here, and she could see farther. She ran along the tight curves and over the bridge, the soles of her feet scorched by the rough asphalt.
She walked around the big building, past the brightly lit entrance. As she turned the corner, she heard voices and laughter. The door to the kitchen stood open, where the cooks worked in their white tunics and checked pants. They were just tidying up now. It took a while before one of the trainees, a boy with long hair, saw her. He went to the door, said hello, and offered her a cigarette.
We’re almost finished, he said, and lit one himself. Then he stuck his head back in the kitchen and called out: Hey, Edo, your girlfriend’s here!
She liked the sound of that. She was Edo’s girlfriend, even though she had only met him a week ago, in the pub by the railway station. He had bought her a beer and told her about working in the hotel.
She had arranged with her father that he would come and pick her up at half past ten. When she told Edo, he made fun of her. She always had the feeling he didn’t quite take her seriously. He was in his fourth year as a trainee chef, so he was three years older than her, and even had his own car, an old rust bucket of a Fiat. When she went to the pub the following day, she told her father there was no need to collect her, someone would drive her home. He wanted to know who, and they had a fight about it. Edo wasn’t in the pub that evening, and she had to walk home, it was over an hour. The next day she plucked up all her courage, went to the hotel after lunch, and asked for Edo. He was standing beside the back door smoking with a couple of his colleagues. She went up to the men, pretending she had turned up by chance. It was his hour off, said Edo, with a complacent smirk. Do you want to see my room? There was great hilarity among the others. He blushed. She said if he liked they could go for a walk.
As soon as she was alone with Edo, he behaved quite differently. Even his voice changed, got quieter and more careful. They walked along the riverbank, the path led through tall grass and bushes, and it was so narrow they had to go Indian file. Gillian went ahead and felt Edo’s eyes on her back. After a couple hundred yards, they sat down on the riverbank in the shade of some trees. The current was strong, Edo snapped off twigs and dropped them in the water, where they were pulled in as though by some mysterious power and immediately swept away. He told her about his plans. After his military service, he wanted to go abroad, to Africa or Asia. While Gillian was sweating over Latin and math, Edo would be seeing the world. She lay down and shut her eyes and waited for him to kiss her. But Edo went on talking. Their dreams could hardly be more different, but his enthusiasm was infectious. When they walked back, Gillian’s arm brushed against some nettles. Edo looked at the reddened place. He hesitated for a moment, then he raised her arm to his mouth and kissed it. It was as though she had been waiting for that moment. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Edo, called the apprentice again, it’s your girlfriend! Then he turned to her and said, we’re all going swimming together, do you feel like coming?
Swimming? Now? She laughed disbelievingly.
Edo stepped out and kissed her on the mouth. They smoked silently. One after the other, the cooks emerged from the kitchen, said goodbye, and disappeared into the darkness. The last to go was the head chef. Don’t forget to lock up, he said to Edo, he was making him responsible.
Come on, said Edo to her and to his colleague, once the boss was gone. Inside there were three trainees busy cleaning and wiping, a big fellow with a pimply face, a smaller boy who looked like he was still a kid, and a round girl with thin braids.
Come on, said Edo again. They all went into the storeroom for two liter bottles of cooking wine. Edo went on ahead down narrow passages, then they passed through a metal door and found themselves in a corridor of the hotel. Edo stopped in front of a door labeled SWIMMING BATHS.