“Hugo, what did you think of that? Hugo, bring us some more champagne! Hugo!”
I arose. And then I saw this horrible old man, standing there, fully nude, except for the trousers that were hanging around his feet, jumping up and down while feverishly pulling his limp member with both hands.
“Marvelous, marvelous,” he kept calling the same word over and over again. He skipped toward the ice bucket, lifted the bottle out of it and sat down upon the cubes, starting to groan the moment he sat down as if he suddenly had an erection. His wife went over to him, kneeled in front and proffered her buttocks. Quick, quick and it was over, she grabbed the bottle, poured a glass and emptied it in one draught. She filled another one, looked up and saw that I was putting on my clothes. Infuriated, she got up and jumped at me, but, because I sidestepped her, she fell to the floor.
“What are you going to do?” she cried out.
I did not answer anything else but, “Out!” and turned away from her.
“No, no, you cannot do that, I won't let you,” she said as if she were a pouting child. And then she started to flatter me and, sidling up to me, she whispered, “My poor husband does not make you feel ashamed, does he? It is his only pleasure. All he wants to do is look at us, and isn't it far more exciting when somebody is looking at you!”
The poor wretch had gotten up out of his ice bucket and, though barely covered, he walked over to me and begged me to stay. Possibly he meant well when he said, “Ah, it is always so much nicer and different when a real gentleman does it instead of the servants. After all, a valet only does his duty!”
“You stupid ass!” screamed the woman.
That did it. Madame did not even try to keep me with her. She threw herself face down upon the sofa and pouted. I had gone into the other room and waited there till the blockhead husband came in to let me out of their apartment through a side exit. Once I was outside a shiver of disgust ran through me and I fled toward the street from whence I walked over to the hotel lobby. There I met the young servant of the fabulous couple. At first he looked at me in surprise, but then a sly smile curled around his lips when he noticed that I started to blush. I wanted to walk past him quickly but he walked up to me as if he had an important message.
“Sir, if you want me, I will gladly walk up to your room with you. I am game for anything you might desire.”
Did I understand correctly? I looked at the boy; he was blond, very young, well-built and his face was good looking and clean. He misinterpreted my staring at him because he said, “Room 8, Sir?”
I hastily answered, “No, thank you.” And I virtually ran up the stairs to my room.
I could not rid myself of the feeling that I had dirtied the memory of Marie. I surely would have found my way back into life and loving and consorting with women. But did it have to be this way, through the dirt? And the suggestion of the young servant had really topped it all! I was sad and melancholy when I walked up and down in my room. I now stood in front of the large middle window, looking out over the gigantic snow-covered mountains, shimmering in the light of the full moon.
I felt cold and I shivered.
Why couldn't I forget about the young man who had said that he was “game” for anything I might desire … anything! I imagined how he would behave together with me and the beautiful woman with her old billy goat husband. I visualized his body, tender yet muscular and very will built. Nude, next to the woman, upon her, under her, squirming on the carpet with her and the old horny bastard coming closer and closer, open mouthed and slack-jawed, drooling and with hot hands groping for the young man's well-rounded buttocks.
A hot desire painfully welled up in me and I tried to tell myself that my previous experiences would only make it natural that from now on I would never touch a woman again. I tried to convince myself that, because of the almost sacred memory of Marie, I was obliged to turn away from females. I suddenly had to think of my beautiful friend at the boarding school and I wracked my brain to make the memory more vivid.
I had become incredibly excited. If the young servant would have entered the room at that moment, I believe that I would have torn the clothes off his body and covered his naked flesh with passionate kisses. I would have implored him to teach me the delights of male relationships. I stared at the door, listened. No, he did not show up. And I was so unspeakably excited, unable to resist the demands of my body. I opened my trousers, my hand crawled toward my own naked flesh, touched and felt and the hand became more bold and insidious, it pulled out my member and the fingers started to play the game of love they used to play so long ago.
But then I stamped my feet, and shook my head. A horror for myself took hold of me … no! I'd rather have the first best whore off the streets … or … and again, like a secret missive, the other desire slipped back into my mind … or the young manservant. I left my room, just to run away from myself. I had not even turned on the light. I noticed, not without dissatisfaction, that my excitement had certain consequences, and I suddenly realized that my encounter with this Swedish nymphomaniac had not even been enough for me! I returned to my room, switched on the light, and rang for room service. When the maid entered I asked her if it was not too late to draw me a tub of water for a bath.
“No, Sir.”
“Fine, then I would like to take a bath.”
The girl hesitated before asking, “For one person … or …?”
I looked at the girl. She was of medium size, rather full-breasted and with wide hips; her nice, sun darkened face was framed by long dark curls and she had dark eyes. Without meaning anything else but a jovial remark, I answered, “Unless you want to take a bath with me.”
“Not a bath, Sir, but I will stay with you if you want me to.”
Now it was my turn to stare at her. And my passionate desires returned. I told myself very clearly: Girl or boy, as long as it is not my own hand.
“If the gentleman is willing to wait about fifteen minutes. I will have his bath prepared and … it won't be so difficult for me to enter his bathroom at such an unusual time.”
When she said that she bowed her head slightly, bit her lower lip and waited a while before she said, “It is to the right, at the end of the corridor, Sir.” And she did not move, as if expecting at least some kind of advances to be made by me. However, when I kept staring at her in utter amazement, she bowed slightly and disappeared.
What sort of a ridiculous day was it today, anyhow? Had everything and everybody gotten together in order to whip my senses? I let myself fall upon the couch and lit a cigarette. After I had tried to gather my thoughts for about ten minutes I got up again to walk over to the bathroom. I had not been able to gather my thoughts coherently, neither while I was resting on the couch nor on my way through the corridor toward my bath. There was only a certain feeling of apprehension, only a feeling of curiosity: Now what is going to happen, and what are you going to do about it?
When I entered the bathroom, the water was still running from the pipes into the white-tiled tub and a woman was dipping a thermometer into the water to check the temperature. She turned her head and asked, “Seventy-five, or more?”
“Warm,” I answered curtly.
She left me alone and I started to undress in front of the large mirror that was built into the wall. It had not happened since I had had my affair with Rita, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, standing there in the nude, I stretched my arms over my head, pressed my cheek against my right shoulder and watched my organ slowly swell and stiffen and finally erect itself. And a hot passionate desire took hold of me. I tiptoed to the door and listened. Was she about to show up? Why did she let me wait so long? She had to show up! I put on a robe and opened the door slightly. Then I heard a slight sound coming from the opposite door as if the little spyhole in it had just been closed. The next moment that door opened and a person, covered with a large bathrobe just like me, quickly walked over to me. The chambermaid. She quickly closed the door behind us and bolted it.