A little farther off I saw the paved promenade that would lead me, in a more civilized way, back to the interior of the island, where at last I could drink and urinate, but I didn’t think I could endure a long stroll with this loquacious little idiot by my side. I figured that at the next well-trodden but not too clear split in the trail, I’d lose him with a single fast turn.
As if fleeing I left him without a word because I couldn’t think of anything to say. After such a brief, odd acquaintance I didn’t know how to take my leave; I knew no formula for such an occasion. I turned at a virtual run into the dully thudding path, where the gas-lamp light still managed to penetrate the dark.
He followed me.
His lack of suspicion was unequivocal.
After a few steps I turned around to face him and tell him in no uncertain terms what I was thinking. He literally recoiled from my raging fury. He was somewhat shorter than I; our bodies nearly collided. He gazed at me with his bright childlike countenance — a person ready for anything, ready to do anything for me. Surprising myself too, I hugged him, he clung to me like a suction cup and I glued my reluctant body to his. A huge sigh escaped him, followed by numerous shorter, lighter, relieved sighs and moans. Our loins could not meet, but I thought I felt something of his warmth on my thighs. I planted my lips on his neck and on his nape covered with childlike fuzz, and I too held him as if, or almost as if, I had found what I’d been looking for. I’d have liked to find someone. Somewhere above his loins, he must have felt on his belly my cock restrained by the buttons of my fly.
I would have liked to feel the warmth of his loins or his hand taking hold of my cock.
Yet the feel of his body remained so strange and distant, its scent and tension so alien, that I thought it would instantly sober me up.
To make this happen, I pushed him away by his shoulders and looked into his face, close up. In the dappled lamplight his milk-white skin glowed, showing its dark and ancient grooves. There, before me, stood a railway man of Tiszahát whose fate had brought him to the city a hundred years ago and who begot several children with a servant girl from northern Hungary.
Forgive me, I said quietly, there is some misunderstanding between us.
Swallowing my shame, I got stuck.
Don’t be offended, but this is not what I had in mind, and please, I stuttered, let’s leave it at that.
How could he understand what I was talking about; if that was not what I had in mind, then what did I have in mind, what was I thinking of. I did not think of anything.
His face, radiant from the pleasure of our touching, looked up at me, terrified. I could also hear that I was speaking a foreign language, issuing from my body and in my own voice.
At his marvelous incomprehension, my heart filled with profound gratitude.
Unthinking, I bent over him, I wanted to thank him and take my leave; I kissed his sweet, milk-tasting lips.
He would have instantly opened them to me; in an incredibly short time he would have been unbelievably cruel with his lips, his teeth, tongue, and saliva.
For the first time in my life, I was filled completely with the fragrance of a male face, the fragrance of stubble, the fragrance of a man’s saliva, and the fragrance emanating from the coarsely woven shirt on the ill-groomed male body.
But I did not let him plunge his tongue into my mouth.
His legs tried to entwine me, his arms tired to clasp me, he was aggressive, with his experienced fingers he quickly explored, assessed, and then scooped up my ass; I was defending myself.
With an incredible feather lightness he pervaded my tense, stone-hard body, which resisted the fragrances and grew rigid in dread. His fingers raced in all directions. He was all lightness, and I raw fear itself. I would not let him; my muscles resisted him.
Which made him literally sob on my chest.
I should have realized earlier that I was not meant to be a human being, even though that realization would not have helped either of us.
You’re so sweet, oh, your body is so strong, he kept squealing, why don’t you let me. What should I promise you of myself, he asked, he begged, he flashed and sparkled.
Don’t promise anything, promise nothing of yourself because I’m not curious about anything, and sweet I’m definitely not, those were the words I wanted to throw in his unprotected face. But I could not deflect my feelings about him; he was the one who had declared feelings. Simply a sweet man, he was the sweet one, that’s what I thought. But without his words I wouldn’t have dared think such a thing of a male person.
I was sorry I couldn’t do it for him, sorry that he misunderstood me, but I couldn’t do it, because something like a team of horses was holding me back.
No matter how you protest, I want to be yours, he whimpered, and since he felt precisely what I was thinking, he smiled, and I will be yours, you’ll see.
And at that moment I believed it.
He reared up so our loins could make contact with both their heat and the sensitive sensation of hardness.
Can’t you see, he whispered, haven’t you noticed, I’ve been following you all evening, he asked. This surprised me greatly; if he had he must have done it very cautiously. More cleverly than I had followed others. His fingers were plowing up both my thighs, dangerously close to my groin.
I walked my feet off for you. I’m hustling after you and you just keep walking as if you were blind. He was cooing at me. You could have been inside me a long time ago, oh, he squealed, I can already feel your big cock, but all evening you kept running from me on your little feet.
He was talking nonsense and his words felt like punches.
My feet are not little, they’re positively large, and how could he have convinced me that I should take him for a woman when what I loathed and enjoyed so much at the same time was that such a sweet little man fell into my clutches, and that is why I felt so much tenderness and cruelty for him. This whole thing could not be understood by normal standards.
He overwhelmed me because he could allow himself to mouth these insanities, such as how I could have been inside him a long time ago, while I didn’t allow myself anything.
As if only half of my self understood what he was saying while the other half was buffeted by doubts that made it vulnerable.
There was a man in the night whom I learned to love, along with his stupidities, which made him even more precious. And I right away wanted to protect him, perhaps from his own dark obtuseness, even though I was the weaker one. I did not recognize myself in him but was instantly infatuated with his lightness, his daring, and his openness, traits I must have lacked and wished for. It would have been wonderful to live with these traits. I was envious of his terrible freedom, for which I did not have the courage or maybe not the talent. At least in the water tower I could have a secure little hiding place with him every night.
I foresaw that I would not forget for a long time to come the stormy presentiment of passion I was at once experiencing and restraining.
By tomorrow it would turn into pain and longing, regret and bitterness that would torture me terribly.
Yet something was carrying me onward. I had to turn him away, peel him off me.
Listen to me, I said, and he must have felt the tenderness in my voice because he did listen and his cheerful, happy-go-lucky, little-boyish, and ancient being opened up even more toward me; this is a fatal misunderstanding, I continued insistently and soberly. I shall now leave you, please don’t follow me again. Let’s leave this between us just as it is.
But what kind, he wondered, what kind of misunderstanding, he cried, alarmed; he grasped my arm, I could feel his animal-like strength. You must have lost your marbles. We didn’t even have time to ruin anything. He was looking at me but I did not respond. What have I done wrong, he whispered, enraged, because he had no patience for my silence. You think the world came out of your ass, he cried tearfully, is that what you believe. I didn’t imagine anyone could be so rotten.