Assentierung (Part V)

“Lollobrigida shows her tits for 30 złoty,” Karl whispered in my ear. 

Wanting to dull the oncoming mind numbingness, I dumbly looked toward the stage, where some wet-combed pianist with a tightly pinched, long gray-green rubber coat and the doggedness of a maniac hacked away something Chopin. 

Already at first glance, it was possible to see that he could not have anything in common with my jazz piano idols like Meade Lux Lewis, Albert Ammons or Pete Johnson, withal I politely asked him if he couldn’t play some piano boogie woogie. With condescendence and pride, in the occasion gaudily exposing serious gaps in his teeth, he declared to me that as a member of the party and a member of the music union, he never has and never would play such American trash. “Stupid dangerous pest,” I thought.

“What Lollobrigida, what tits?” I wondered. Yeah, on the movie screens, as a gigantic, cultural happening of late, in fact it was unknown for what ideological reasons, had appeared the film FANFAN LA TULIP, with Gerard Philip in the titular role, with whom just so was partnered Gina Lollobrigida. 

But why for thirty złoty, when a ticket to the cinema cost some three or four złoty, and there Lollobrigida did not show all her tits, only almost so but not quite, and despite this, tremendous crowds hit the cinema. At the ticket booth there were such terrifying lines and people pushed so, that every some time the completely psychically unnerved cinema manager pushed himself with trouble through the crowd, desperately clawing atop a chair held by three ticket girls and through this tube like that once used by directors in Hollywood, yelled: “People… people, don’t push in like this. If you are going to push in like this then instead of FANFAN I’ll play the Soviet film SONG OF TAIGA or MICHURIN: ORCHARD WIZARD.” At this proposition through the cramped crowd came a baleful rumbling of disapproval and for a moment the human thrust weakened significantly, only to return in double.

I made after Karl. The situation looked as follows. The old conductor stood now at the counter-table and sold orangeade, and two columns of ordered boxes staged a sort of thin entry into the back. This passage was purposely covered with a red curtain, which, having heretofore masked the place of the field kitchen, now found itself here. 

On the curtain were remains still of the paper sculpture and the sad remains of the head of comrade Stalin. And in fact of this room’s standard-bearing head was left by this time only the nose, a bit of the mustache and one eyebrow the type like of a mass murderer’s ominous and terrible eye. The rest of it fell happily into the mess somewhere. 

At a few meters distance, giggling and pushing and with very secretive looks, orbited in a state of extreme excitement a dozen or so prospectives. Every some time, from behind the curtain, with a strange face emerged a would-be defender of the homeland. After a while, the curtain, subtly agape, revealed a dallying female face, who a moment ago here sold orangeade plainly. Indeed, she bore a faint likeness to Gerard Philip’s film partner. With an arched smile, she called with a gesture to the next amateur, who, a little coaxed by his colleagues, but with a mostly pretended sluggishness, happy, actually, disappeared behind the cover and reappeared after some thirty or forty seconds. 

Everyone who occupied a place in waiting had already had ready three tens, or a twenty and a ten, a twenty and two fives or even six fives. Denominations held no importance, only the sum counted. At this time, thirty złoty was not a bagatelle amount. A modest three course dinner could be eaten for ten to fourteen złoty, the price of a pack of twenty domestic cigarettes started at two złoty forty, American between nine and eleven złoty. A liter of petrol cost forty groszy, and half a liter of eighty proof vodka thirty one złoty ten. 

All things considered, when for the majority this was the first contact with a city dame, the price did not play any role. During this time, the geezer with the head of comrade Gomułka, being fully aware of these financial transactions, pretended to sell his orangeade but alertly kept his eye on everything. Every some time, he discretely but forcefully gestured not to stand too close to the curtain behind which people constantly disappeared with cold hard cash.

When at last, perhaps from the boredom, I decided to have a go at it, not being that day in the best financial situation this presented me a certain budgetary problem. She immediately reached her hand out for the money, and with an avaricious glance checked the sum. Uncertainly, in high heels, she backed up some four feet and tossed the money blindly into a carton box, most likely from Czech boots, somewhere very high up in the labyrinth pyramid of the trunks from the empty bottles. 

Turned still my way, she unfastened especially for me her half-length lily sweater. When under her pronounced cleavage appeared a light rose-colored brassiere, she took out from it, again especially for me, first the right and then the left breast and slowly coming closer, with a skittish face twice or thrice jiggled them with her hands pushing upwards to gently strike them against themselves, the one and the other. 

Looking me the entire time in the eye, she walked up very close. She was quite beautiful. I could sense her rhythmic breathing, and her dark hair smelled of orangeade, that pink orangeade. Permitting the touching of her naked tits, she reflexively moved her right hand delicately under the pants, and simply caught the prospective by his dick. 

Personally I always had negative feelings that that word for the male organ had given me, negative feelings precipitated from my family, in view of my father, who carried the name Richard and the word, expressed, in short, as Dick, heretofore my entire life, always in my family was used with respect, and in a warm and—most importantly—completely different context. 

Nevertheless, having not the least influence in it, at this unfair and injurious to me, and actually my entire family, not to mention already my father, nomenclature, willy nilly, I was forced yet somewhat to accept this name, deploring it simultaneously, because after all so many other names that were equally, if not more in vogue, would have also been perfectly well-suited. So the prospective groped Lollobrigida’s naked tits, and she after, with her right hand caught him through the pants, with the characteristic motion, resolute and trained like, let’s say, the housewife who while food shopping takes a long time and with great resourcefulness selects from the piles placed for sale of cucumbers, in the aim of preparing, say, cucumber salad for dinner for her husband. 

In a moment she jerked her hand back, carefully put her tits back in her bra, buttoned her lily sweater and in an erotic but decisive voice whispered: “That’s it…,” wryly pushing the supplicant from this much improvised pseudo-boudoir. 

Although she took care of matters quickly, express like, Karl swore up and down, having more contact than I with those here present, that the time with Lollobrigida was completely sufficient for most of the prospectives. In the time when that work stopped, in her buttoned lily sweater, she appeared behind the counter-table as if nothing happened, and continued the sale of orangeade. Gomułka meanwhile quickly disappeared behind the curtain, where he probably counted and better secured Lollobrigida’s hard-earned cash. 

Somewhere around half after two, the absent-minded star, by mistake or confused, stood behind the counter-table with one bare tit. The prospectives did not even especially call attention to this and it did not make a bigger impression because who had wanted to see this already got to earlier, and, beyond that, from a certain time more and more alcohol began to pass through the hall and so the nonchalant mood of drunkenness heightened progressively. 

Unfortunately, from the side of the doors behind which the commission was situated, in a huge officer’s cap major midget emerged and saw Lollobrigida, and oh how he hollered out. She, gathering herself in a second, whisked off outside. And this one hollered still, that it was necessary to conduct an inquiry, that this was certainly some imperialist enemy sending this kind of woman, in order to weaken the morals of the army, and so on. 

First he directed his monologue towards the old man, who at the beginning listened to him outstretched and at attention, but when he began to spread out his hands and additionally linked this gesture with the shrugging of his shoulders, this look was so idiotic that the major just waved his hand, trying to initiate contact with the prospectives who loitered about everywhere.

Unfortunately, no one had any interest in listening to him, so after a while, very disappointingly, and cursing away, he left the hall.