Now Mozoň has a wonderful opportunity to make up for lost time. It’s a pity that he hasn’t got on him the little notebook where he notes, in moments of boredom, his erotic ideas and inspirations. They come to him almost daily, particularly when sitting on the lavatory, or after eating spicy sausage. But the safe house is a long way away. Mozoň hopes that he can recall all the positions and situations that he has dreamt up in the boring and dreary afternoons at the villa. Now he’ll be able to see if his fantasies are technically, but above all anatomically, feasible! Mozoň hopes that his face doesn’t show the sudden impatience and excitement that has come over him. He gets up and rubs his wrists.
Nothing escapes Rácz. He knows that he has Ščepán in his hand. Once Rácz carries out his plan, then Ščepán will be his for good. Rácz sits in the armchair and sizes up the fake black man. “I do have a whore for you; a nice bit of skirt. She’ll do anything you ask her. She has a friend who’ll also do anything for you.”
“Anything?” Mozoň is shaking with excitement. Growing sexual tension makes him yawn a few times.
“But it will cost you a bundle,” the stoker warns him.
The excited ex-secret policeman just waves his hand. He has plenty of money, he says. Everything is going like clockwork, he thinks. He will combine the pleasant and the useful. For the first time in his life he will have sex with two women at the same time. And he will eventually render Rácz harmless. The next day. Or the day after tomorrow. And when he’s in their cell, then he’ll have to give Mozoň every last penny back. So that’ll be a free fuck.
“When could it be arranged for?” Mozoň asks Rácz impatiently.
Rácz shrugs. “Maybe tonight,” he says. “I hope they’ll both be available.”
Mozoň rubs his hands in anticipation and yawns with tension. “That would be excellent,” he says. His brain fills with images of naked and twisted female bodies, interwoven limbs, and moist and sticky skin contact. “Ooo!” he thinks happily.
* * *
In the evening, Mozoň sits in the lobby, trying to read a newspaper. He occasionally trembles with nerves and impatience. He stifles a yawn. There’s nothing in the papers. Mozoň is no longer black. Why bother? It’s quite unnecessary now.
“The boss asked me to tell you that the girls have been arranged and are ready,” Ďula comes up to Mozoň and says. “What time do you want them to come to your room?”
Mozoň raises his head and looks at Ďula. “They can come right away,” he says impatiently, puts down the paper and gets up.
Ďula nods. “They’ll be with you in half an hour.”
Mozoň hurries to his room. He deserves a bit of entertainment and relaxation. For days he has been doing nothing but lie in wait for the stoker. The stoker can wait. The lawyer won’t bloody mind. When Mozoň, and his underlings undertake anything, they succeed. One day plus or minus makes no difference. Mozoň enters his room. He looks out of the window. Šolik and Tupý have already gone home. So why can’t he get a little rest and relaxation, too?
He undresses and takes a shower. Then he splashes himself with cologne; especially his scrotum and around his organ. The cologne burns him and brings tears to his eyes. He gets dressed. Somebody knocks. Two extravagantly dressed and made-up young women enter the room. Both are slender; one is strikingly tall.
“Good evening,” says the tall one in a deep, velvety voice.
“Good evening,” says Mozoň, his throat tight with tension.
“I’m Wanda,” says the tall one, “and she’s Eva.” Eva smiles.
“I’m Karol,” says Mozoň. “Sit down.” He points to two armchairs.
The prostitutes sit down. They both cross their legs, revealing substantial parts of their thighs. One is wearing black stockings, the other white. They are silent. Mozoň clears his throat. He makes a few awkward movements and then sits down on the bed, as there is nowhere else to sit. He spreads his arms as if to say, “This is how things are…” The prostitutes smile a broad studied smile. Wanda absent-mindedly runs her hand over her black thigh. This makes a quiet rustle in the silence.
“Would you like a drink?” Mozoň says suddenly, jumping off the bed.
The girls look at each other.
“Red wine for me,” says Eva.
“Same for me,” Wanda joins in.
Mozoň nods and is about to rush out.
“Where are you going?” Wanda asks.
“To get the wine,” says the bewildered secret policeman.
“Just sit here,” says Eva. “Phone room service, they’ll bring it.”
When Mozoň phones for a bottle of red, he sits on the bed. He watches the prostitutes.
“Well?” Wanda says. “What have we come here for?” She gets up and begins to undress.
Eva follows her. Completely naked, except for stockings, they approach Mozoň, push him down on the bed and begin to take off his clothes. The secret policeman starts to take rapid breaths. His penis sticks up vertically. Wanda takes it into her mouth, while Eva serves him higher up. The secret policeman murmurs in excitement. He loves it.
Somebody knocks at the door. “Who is it?” Mozoň asks from the bed.
“Room service,” says a voice behind the door.
Mozoň hides under the quilt and covers up both prostitutes, as well.
“Come in!” he says.
A waiter enters with a bottle of wine and three glasses. His face shows no surprise. He opens the bottle and pours a little wine into a glass. He offers it to Mozoň. Mozoň impatiently reaches for the glass. He uncovers himself a bit. The prostitutes throw the quilt onto the floor and grab the struggling policeman by his shoulders from both sides. They pose on the bed with their thighs spread wide. Urban runs in from the hall with his camera, capturing all the action. Behind him stands Ďula with a malicious smile. Mozoň tries to cover his face and his genitals at the same time. His purple penis droops and quivers. The waiter has stepped aside.
Filming is over. The waiter, Urban, and Ďula have left. The prostitutes hurriedly get dressed. A stony-faced Rácz enters the room. Mozoň is whimpering in a fœtal position on the bed. He feels as if he has been raped. He tries to cover himself with the quilt, but Rácz’s foot, elegantly shod in an Italian shoe, steps on it.
“The comedy’s over! Time for the bill!”
Wanda and Eva have both got dressed and left. In his nakedness Mozoň is humiliated by the immaculately dressed stoker. He grabs the quilt and tries to cover himself. Rácz bends down, rips the quilt out of his hands and throws it into the corner.
“What’s this all about?” the secret policeman asks querulously. He has pulled himself together a little. “That wasn’t the deal,” he adds.
“No, that wasn’t the deal,” Rácz agrees. “Rácz doesn’t do deals with crooks,” he says firmly. Rácz raises a hand. He is holding a videocassette. “You’re in it,” he says maliciously, “in all your beauty. Your wife will be very pleased.”