Autumn Wind
Autumn Wind
Alfie woke up and sat up abruptly. Julia had sat down next to him, and he could tell right away that she had been crying bitterly — her eyes were still red. He pulled her close, put an arm around her shoulder, and let her head rest on his broad chest. ““What’s wrong, my love,” he said softly, “what’s troubling you?” She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed her face even deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s nothing, Alfie, I just read an unspeakably sad story; it really moved me.” Alfie exhaled; thank God it wasn’t about his time here being limited. “Tell me about it, Julia. I’d love to hear it, because I want to understand what has touched you so deeply, my love.”
Julia nimbly stood up and took a few sheets of paper from the desk, then sat back down in his protective arms. “I’ll read it to you — I printed it out. No, it has nothing to do with the gods. I’ve been browsing a bit through Konrad, Bechstein, Schwab, and others from the last century; I just wanted to clear my head from my obsession with Hera for a while. I felt I was getting lost in the intrigues of the ancient historians, who always had to write with an eye toward politics and society. They had to describe Hera as the guardian of marriage and family; every tiny scrap of extramarital escapades was rigorously eliminated, even though I don’t think there was any shortage of them. — I found a fragment in Schwab, and it fascinated me from the very first line. “I’ll read it to you, okay?” Alfie nodded and settled into a more comfortable position. And Julia read aloud:
The Ballad of Suheddin
According to Gustav Schwab.
Suheddin, bent low over his horse’s neck, galloped along the dusty desert road, heading west, away from the sunrise. He had only a thin galabijah — a light outer garment — thrown over his bare shoulders; he had fled headlong. He patted his horse’s neck. “What kind of idiot could have called you ‘Al Eajiz,’ the Lame One? You’re flying along like a real racehorse, my good fellow!” The horse shook his head disapprovingly. Of course he wasn’t lame, the fellow. It was just that whenever an unwelcome rider mounted him, he’d play the part of the lame oaf to get rid of the guy quickly. Suheddin nodded. “You’re a smart guy, my friend, and a good friend at that. You immediately realized I had to get out of there fast, and you carried me safely through the narrow alleys of Baghdad, past all the checkpoints and the palace henchmen. You reacted to my bare feet, since I wear neither boots nor spurs. You’re a smart fellow, Al Eajiz!”
Suheddin was lying next to Su on the sofa, his hand resting on the veil with which he had covered her hips after their lovemaking. They whispered words of love, foolish things, matters of the heart. “When the heart is full, the mouth overflows.” And suddenly, old Aya was standing there. “You must leave immediately, Lord Suheddin; Prince Mirza’s henchmen have orders to capture and imprison you. They must not find you here with the princess!” The kind old maid vanished as silently as she had appeared. Su — Princess Suleika — sat up straight as a candle. “He did it, that old swine! He claims the right to take me as his wife; he brazenly and indecently lifted my veil — that old lecher — and saliva dripped from his lips, that mangy, lecherous old goat! He must have slandered you to the Caliph, for that’s the only way he can get you or get rid of you — that cowardly dog!” Suheddin quickly draped the thin galabijah over his bare shoulders and kissed the princess on the lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, my love!” She nodded toward the curtain next to a door. “Take my sword, which is hidden behind the curtain, my love, and be brave!” She rummaged through the odds and ends under the sofa. “Here, a pouch with a few silver coins — that’s all I have on hand.” Seconds later, he was gone, moving silently on bare feet, the money pouch and Suleika’s dainty sword in his hand.
His horse needed neither a compass nor instructions. It trotted along the dusty road; to the southwest lay the sea, the nearest port. Its master surely wanted to reach the port of Al-Basrah, the horse thought — it made perfect sense. It was the only direction that made sense. Suheddin stared intently ahead, casting only the occasional glance back, where the sleeping city of Baghdad was slowly fading behind the sand dunes. No one was following him.
His thoughts drifted back. He had been a guard in the caliph’s personal guards; he had stood in the throne room, one of 50 soldiers forming a guard of honor before the caliph’s throne. The old caliph was all alone; only three of his wives sat a short distance away. Suheddin could not believe his eyes. Princess Suleika, one of the caliph’s younger daughters, was staring at him. Discreetly, of course; otherwise, it would have been improper. He had known the girl for some time; after all, he was often on duty when the guards watched over the ladies and girls in the inner courtyard of the palace. Yes, they had to bring jugs of fresh water to the naked ladies, who were washing themselves in the blazing sunlight, splashing each other with the water from the jugs, and washing one another. Like all the guards, he kept his eyes downcast when he approached the ladies. A guard would have had to be blind and deaf to serve, move about, and linger among the naked ladies in the courtyard. Of course, he had looked at all the naked princesses, but Suleika was the only one who looked at him openly and with a friendly smile. He had always looked away — a guard had to. Yet her gaze burned into the back of his head. And now, in the throne room, where this and that was being discussed once again, she looked at him intently. He stood like a marble statue — that’s what guardsmen do. Yet his gaze met her friendly, blushing gaze.
The horse took a quick leap; a snake lay in the middle of the dusty road. Al Eajiz knew snakes were not to be trifled with. Suheddin glanced back warily; there were still no pursuers in sight. And then, one evening, the old maid appeared in the quarters. She motioned to him with her chin, and he followed her down the hallway. “I am Aya, a servant of Princess Suleika, Lord Suheddin. The princess asks you to come up to the eastern roof at the time when the star Az-Zuhara is seen rising. Be punctual and discreet, Mr. Suheddin,” said Aya, and left without saying goodbye after he had nodded in agreement. He sat rooted to the spot in the courtyard, gazing intently toward the west, and when Venus rose radiant from the horizon, he crept up onto the eastern roof. There was no one to be seen, only old Aya, who coughed briefly. He stepped silently toward her, caught sight of the princess, and bowed deeply. She held out her hand to him, and he reverently kissed her ostentatious ring. Aya whispered, “Take a seat on that bench, Princess; I’ll keep watch.” That was Suheddin’s first encounter with the princess, and it would not be his last.
The horse didn’t slow down, even though it was already drenched in sweat. Suheddin saw the silhouette of the post station in the distance. He had to water the horse. But that was dangerous — perhaps a squad of pursuers was waiting for him there. But the post station looked deserted; the people were surely already asleep. Suheddin dismounted and hid behind a boulder. No, it wasn’t really a boulder, but rather a block of sand compacted by wind and weather. He gave the horse a pat on the flank. “Go over there very slowly — I see a watering hole. Drink some water and come back, but be very, very quiet, my big guy.” Al Eajiz shook his mane and trotted quietly toward the watering hole. He drank greedily, looked around cautiously, and quietly returned to Suheddin. The ride toward the southwest continued.
Suheddin, a soldier in the Caliph’s personal guard, could hardly believe his good fortune. Princess Suleika was in love with him; she gave him her heart as they grew closer. Long ago, her loyal servant Aya had shown him the secret path by which he could enter the princess’s chambers unseen. The good woman knew what was in her charge’s heart, and the guard soldier Suheddin didn’t strike her as a fool either. She faithfully stood watch so that he and Su, the princess, could spend plenty of time on her couch. Of course, Aya was getting on in years, but she still knew a thing or two about love. She didn’t worry too much — the princess was clever and cunning and would surely find a way to keep her sweetheart by her side.
Suheddin's heart overflowed, and he spoke to his horse of his love. "You were there, my beloved, when my eyes searched the emptiness for you. You gave me water when I was thirsty. You gave me bread when you saw how hungry I was. You covered me with your veil when I was cold at night.” The horse understood every word; after all, he knew only too well how much the wounds that love inflicts on the soul can hurt. “I held your tender, white hand, my beloved, as I stepped over the abyss; there you were beside me, guiding me. I kissed the tears from your eyes when you wept over the dead little bird on your windowsill. I kissed the nectar from your lips, for it is sweeter than honey. I washed your alabaster-white breasts with cool water when the heat of the samum had the city in its stranglehold. I kissed your white loins every time I put your veil back on, my beloved. I ran away from you in tears when Prince Mirza’s henchmen tried to seize me.” The horse Al Eajiz pricked up his ears, for Suheddin’s pleas of love touched him deeply. But the clever animal knew that back there, beyond the 16th post station, lay the safe haven; there they would board a ship bound for India or the land of Ophir and sail away. They would be there before dawn. He just had to pace himself wisely — that was important for a smart horse.
Suheddin’s keen eyes spotted the next post station; there appeared to be several inns there as well. Perhaps he could find some feed for his horse, since they still had a long way to go. He breathed a sigh of relief — the light was still on in the stable. He could probably buy some feed for a few silver coins, provided they weren’t already looking for him there. They approached the stable cautiously. He dismounted and walked the last few meters alongside his horse. “My good boy, go stand over there next to the mares — maybe they’ll share some of their feed with you.” A light pat on the flank, and the faithful animal trotted into the stable. A mare moved aside a little and let him get to the feed. Suheddin didn’t speak the language of horses, but Al Eajiz had apparently let his masculine charm work its magic.
"Peace be with you," Suheddin greeted the old man, who was sweeping the floor with a broom. "And peace be with you too, young sir!" the man replied, setting the broom aside. “Ah, I see your stallion has found a spot next to Lakia. She’s a good girl, believe me, sir.” Suheddin fished a silver coin out of Suleikas money pouch. “His name is Al Eajiz,” he grumbled, “and of course I’ll pay for the feed, good man!” But the man waved him off. “I saw the tag on the bridle — the horse comes from the Caliph’s stables. Our good ruler’s horses are always welcome here. You don’t need to pay anything, young man!” Suheddin took a step back. “The palace has put a bounty on my head, and you’ll surely get into trouble if Prince Mirza finds out that you’re helping me.”
The old man spat on the ground. “Oh, him! May God forgive me, but I couldn’t care less about the prince. He’ll be our next caliph, and on the day he ascends the throne, I’ll leave the country on the first ship I can find — as surely as God helps me!” He spat on the ground again. “Prince Mirza!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Tell me, if you’ve come straight from Baghdad, you must be hungry and thirsty. You can have a cup of wine, a chicken drumstick, and a flatbread — I wasn’t very hungry this evening.” He walked over to a small table and made an inviting gesture. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it on the prince’s tab — he can certainly afford to pay for it!” Suheddin grinned. “You’re going to get into trouble for helping me.” But the old man waved it off. “Tell me, what kind of idiot would name such a magnificent stallion Al Eajiz, ‘the Lame One’? I can’t see anything lame about him, young sir!” Suheddin laughed. “I’m in the Caliph’s personal guard — may he live long! And every time we see him, we grin and wonder about the complete idiot who gave him that nickname.”
Al Eajiz had eaten and drunk from the trough. He had promised the lovely Lakia a tête-à-tête when he was on his way back, and the good girl snorted, blushing. Now he stood in the doorway, waiting impatiently. Suheddin rose from the small table and drained his cup of wine. “My thanks to you, good man! And don’t bow your old back too low when the prince rides past. He doesn’t just want the Caliph’s throne — he also wants to seize my bride, defile her snow-white thighs, and dishonor her. That is why I must flee.” The old man nodded in farewell, and, refreshed, they rode on.
The last post station. When he sat up straight in the saddle, he could already see the sea. To the left was the steep mountain range, and to the right, the sea. And right in the middle, where the road ran, was a line of horsemen — perhaps a hundred of them.
The Prince's Pursuers.
Al Eajiz stopped in his tracks; he saw that there was no way forward. And then a rider broke away from the center and rode toward him. Suheddin’s heart clenched. Prince Mirza. The man who was determined to make his princess his wife. The scoundrel who had brazenly torn off her veil and ogled her flawless body as if it were a pound of meat at the market. The man who didn’t shy away from having him — his rival — murdered.
Facing off against a hundred armed men was not an option. He patted his horse’s neck. “I think, my big guy, this is where our paths part. I’ll fall in the sand, and they’ll take you back to the stable.” — No matter how hard Al Eajiz looked around, there was no escape. He would charge right through the formation and mow down those guys — he simply owed that much to Suheddin.
Tears glistened in Julia’s eyes again. “The fragment ends here. Either Schwabe didn’t finish writing it, or it’s been lost.” Alfie hated tears, especially Julia’s. He took the sheets from her hand. “You have to read the backs of the pages, too, girl! The rest of the story is on there.” And he flipped the printed pages over and pretended that the backs weren’t just blank white pages. “Ah, there it is!” He cleared his throat briefly, composed himself, and read aloud from the blank pages:
Al Eajiz stood motionless, like a statue. He waited for Suheddin’s command to charge. But Suheddin looked at the prince, who soon caught up to them. The prince reined in his horse. “Ah, there’s our runaway! Your escape was completely pointless, guard — I saw this coming. I read your foolish thoughts before you’d even finished forming them. I offer you two options: You come with me and end up in the darkest dungeon, forever. But at least you’ll be alive. Or I’ll chop you to pieces right here on the spot and trample you like a worm. That would be the second option, and I’d prefer it. You didn’t really imagine that a princess would take a mere guard as her husband, did you? No, she’ll belong to me, body and soul. I’ll plant my boot on the neck of that unwilling princess and mock you, you worm! But I’ve taken a very close look at the princess, and I tore her veil so I could see her properly. If she weren’t a princess, I’d take her for a goat herder. Her body is, after all, no more beautiful than that of an ordinary goat herder, merely adorned with jewelry and precious stones. Her chest and body are hidden by jewelry because she doesn’t want anyone to see her ugliness. Nevertheless, she’s still just a goat herder, and she’ll open the Caliph’s heart to me, whether he wants to or not!”
Suheddin spat on the ground. “Prince Mirza, you are a fool! You dare to slander the princess by calling her a goat herder, and I will not let you get away with it — I will cut you to pieces and throw your stinking corpse to the dogs, as surely as God helps me! Prince Mirza, you are a cancer in the body of Baghdad, a parasite who drips poison into the caliph’s ear. You are no man of honor; you have never let your sword dance in battle — you lack the guts and the nerve for that. A man of honor would now leap from his horse and cross swords with me. Isn’t that right, Captain?” he called out to the captain, who had followed the prince. Prince Mirza, carefully made up and dressed in elegant, fine clothing, cast a sidelong glance at the captain. “The Caliph has forbidden all duels, hasn’t he?” The captain didn’t move for a moment; the princess’s insults were unworthy of an honorable man. But then he said, “If anyone were to challenge me like that, I’d hack him to pieces, Prince Mirza!” The prince’s small eyes darted back and forth like sparrows trapped in a cage. “A mere foot soldier cannot insult me — I am a hundred times his superior!” Not a muscle twitched on the captain’s face. “I wouldn’t let a rival get away with insulting me! And even if he were a peasant or a stable boy, he’d forfeit his life! I would draw my sword, if only for my honor and the honor of the lady of my heart!” The prince was trapped. Even if he were to murder Suheddin right now, the captain would not hold back his opinion — no, he wouldn’t. Slowly, he dismounted from his white horse.
Suheddin slid gracefully out of the saddle. He gave Al Eajiz a pat on the flank. “Make way, my friend — it’s time to get down to business!” His horse took a few steps and then turned around. Suheddin slowly drew the small scimitar of Suleika from its sheath; it was a short but finely curved blade made of fine Damascus steel. A light sword, forged for delicate ladies’ hands. Prince Mirza drew his curved sword — a large, heavy blade, also the finest work of a master blacksmith. Suheddin knew that if he lost, the prince would enslave his Suleika in a merciless captivity, rape her at his whim, hand her over to his men for their amusement, and throw her to the wolves to be devoured.
That unbearable thought gave him a strength that no one else would have had in that situation. He didn’t know how good the prince was at fencing; in fact, no one really knew. No one had ever seen him with a drawn sword in his hand. He himself had been a soldier long enough to be able to assess his abilities. Of course, there were better fencers in his company, but he had always fought bravely and had returned from every battle so far without even the slightest scratch.
Prince Mirza and he circled each other. Suheddin’s sword was very short, which was a disadvantage. The prince slashed and slashed at him; Suheddin could only parry the blows and move as swiftly as an antelope. The prince, a fierce fellow, struck Suheddin recklessly. He was a cowardly brawler and believed he could hit the agile, evasive guardsman with one of his wide, sweeping blows. All his fighting skills still stemmed from his youth, when he had beaten others to death with a wooden club. What stupidity lay behind all that arrogance and overinflated self-confidence!
The prince’s sword hand gradually grew heavy, and he attempted a feint that was easy to see through. His leather slippers sent sand flying in Suheddin’s direction, but Suheddin could only laugh it off. Dodging that was basic stuff. Twice he managed to leap right through the swirling sand, just as he had practiced a thousand times. He inflicted two deep cuts on the prince’s forearm, and the prince’s bleeding sword hand was now in grave danger. The prince was already gasping for breath and wiping the sweat from his eyes. Suheddin watched with satisfaction. Only a light sheen of sweat covered his forehead; agile as a gazelle, he leaped, causing the prince to strike at thin air under the force of his own blows, letting him wear himself out. Suleika’s kiss touched his cheek; her lips were as light as a breath of wind. “His own heavy sword will tear his arm right off!” his beloved whispered.
Al Eajiz neighed loudly, drowning out the wind, and his neigh reached the line of men. The line began to move. Some soldiers had moved forward and were watching the duel from a distance. The captain had also dismounted, drawn his scimitar, and appointed himself the referee. Of course, he immediately recognized that the prince was not fighting honorably, but was merely a savage brawler who wanted to crush the young man at any cost — but certainly not in an honorable duel. The captain called the prince to order as if he were a mere recruit in combat school. The prince crouched down in anger — that wasn’t how it was supposed to go! The captain was his captain, and he yelled at him to stay out of it! The captain fell silent; after all, the prince was a prince, not a recruit.
Suleika’s Damascus blade sang in Suheddin’s hand as he swung it. A faint hum, a high, soft sound like a sigh from afar. “I am with you, my beloved!” Suleika’s lips whispered amid the blade’s hum. “That dishonorable man tore off my veil and exposed me before everyone’s eyes! I curse his black soul!” the blade sang in his hand. Suheddin sensed that Suleika was guiding his hand, that she did not want to let the hated prince and treacherous usurper escape. That scoundrel who had brazenly torn away her veil and revelled in the sight of her naked body.
Suheddin could hear her bell-like voice as if it were a whisper in the distance. “Now, my beloved, strike quickly like a hornet!” Suleika whispered. In a flash, he lunged forward and plunged the blade deep into the prince’s chest. The prince sank to his knees, a look of disbelief on his face, as the heavy sword slipped from his hand. Suheddin leaped to his side and severed his neck with a powerful stroke. The prince’s head rolled into the sand, and his lifeless torso fell forward onto the sand. The captain’s eyes flew open. He thrust his sword back into its sheath and wiped his sweat-drenched face with his sleeve. Suheddin stood silently before the corpse, not moving.
The captain turned to his men. “Mr. Suheddin defended the princess’s honor — and his own — in a fair duel. He fought fairly and honorably, just as a guard soldier should.” His men looked on indifferently, and most of them didn’t even know which princess the captain was talking about — there were so many princesses. But they looked at one another and nodded. Yes, it had been a fair duel, and the soldier had emerged victorious. The captain stepped up to Suheddin and tugged at his sleeve. “Give me your sword. I have an order — an arrest warrant — Suheddin. Come with me; I’ll take you to the caliph, who will judge you.” Suheddin nodded silently and handed Suleika’s sword to the captain.
The caliph sat upright on the throne — he had been given a meticulous account of the duel. Suheddin had been led in; now he bowed low to the ground and offered his greetings to the ruler. The executioner standing beside him pushed him down by the shoulder; a criminal was supposed to kneel before the caliph. But the caliph waved the executioner away and said, “Stand up, Suheddin; a man of honor stands upright before his ruler. I have, of course, heard about the duel; you beheaded the prince and allowed yourself to be captured without resistance. Now, tell me!”
Suheddin’s voice was firm and resolute. “The prince forced me to flee; he wanted to kill me because the princess did not love him. He ambushed me outside the port city with a hundred men. He slandered the princess and dragged both her honor and mine through the mud. I wouldn’t care if some high-ranking official insulted me. But to denigrate the princess — I could not and would not let him get away with that. The prince wanted to cowardly back out of the duel, but the captain would not allow it. I defeated him and cut off his head; he will never revile the princess again. I have nothing more to say on the matter, Your Highness!”
The Caliph, Harun al-Rashid, raised an eyebrow. “You call me ‘High Lord,’ not ‘Caliph’ or ‘Commander of the Faithful’ like everyone else. Why?” Suheddin’s reply came back instantly. “Because you are not, High Lord. You are not only the Ruler of the Faithful, but you also rule over the unbelievers — those who dance around the golden calf, the fire-worshippers of Ahura Mazda, and the children of Israel. You rule over them all, and come to think of it, you even rule over the cockroaches in our granaries. You are the Ruler of All, Your Highness!” Harun al-Rashid smiled. “Cockroaches, hm?” He stroked his beard and smiled. “You have a sharp tongue, young man. Now, how is it that Princess Suleika’s honor is so close to your heart?”
Suheddin knew it was no longer about Prince Mirza; it was now a matter of his own life. Defiantly, he jutted out his chin. “Well, Your Highness, when the princess learned that Prince Mirza desired her as his wife and insolently demanded her as if she were nothing more than a bag of silver coins, she wept bitterly on my shoulder, Your Highness, and not on the prince’s shoulder. She wept on my shoulder after he had insolently torn off her veil and inspected her body as if it were a pound of meat at the market. She knew that the prince was a cancer on the body of Baghdad, a venomous snake that sang into your ear to the sound of a shawm and laid claim to your sword and your throne — demanded them, indeed, vehemently demanded them. She wept because her father, struck by blindness, failed to see through the unworthy man and nurtured the serpent at his bosom. “My Lord, ask your daughter!” Suheddin lowered his gaze. To concede any more of his love for Suleika would have been unseemly.
Caliph Harun al-Rashid looked intently at Suheddin’s face. “I know you, but I can’t quite place where from.” Suheddin smiled. “I was one of the four who accompanied you on your forays through the city when you, disguised as a common nobleman, wanted to get a feel for the pulse of the city. Not quite twenty years ago, Your Highness.” A look of recognition flashed across Harun’s face. “Yes, the silent boy whom the captain recommended to me, saying he was a natural-born bodyguard. You were as silent as a fish back then, my boy, but your knife whirled through the air faster than any arrow. I remember it very well. And now I see you’ve learned to speak. And you don’t hold back your opinion. Even though you could talk yourself into serious trouble, Mr. Suheddin.” He leaned toward his vizier, Al-Bahr, who was the same age, and they whispered for a few moments. The Caliph looked up.
"You engaged in a duel, even though I have strictly forbidden duels. You beheaded an heir to the throne. These are serious offenses, and I will withdraw to deliberate on whether and how I will punish you. But my friend Al-Bahr sees himself vindicated in your words and in the princess’s words; from the very first day, he warned me against committing a folly — as if a caliph could ever commit such a folly. I was smitten with the prince; he had a silver tongue and a sharp, analytical mind — no one would dispute that. But he also sent all four of my sons to their deaths — two to the wars against the Romans of Byzantium and the other two to the feud against the bloodthirsty Barmakid dynasty. I didn’t listen to my wise friend Al-Bahr, who saw through the prince’s cowardly scheme to remove the four greatest obstacles on the path to my throne without getting his own hands dirty. And yes, I was foolish enough to give him my daughter as his bride. My friend, I will spend four days in introspection, remaining silent and listening only, for Prince Mirza is still very much present in my mind. Perhaps I should be grateful to my friend Al-Bahr and to you — perhaps. A caliph must be neither blind nor infatuated; justice must guide him.”
Harun al-Rashid rose with a groan, the weight of the years bearing down on his shoulders. “I shall give you an order shortly, Suheddin. My daughter Suleika disappeared on the day I promised her hand to Prince Mirza and he went to her to inspect the purity of her body, as he put it. No one has seen her since. I ask you as a grief-stricken father, not as a ruler: ride out and find her, bring her back to me. I beg you with all my heart, my son!” Now, for the first time, Suheddin bent his knees and said: “My Lord, I will mount my horse at once and search the entire city. I solemnly promise you that I will not return without your daughter. Tomorrow, at the noon audience, I will bring her to you — unharmed and safe. You have my word on it, My Lord!”
The caliph turned to leave, muttering bitterly, “…and ruler of the faithful, the infidels, and the cockroaches!” Suheddin ran off to the stable to saddle the Lame One. Old Aya was standing in front of the stable. “Follow me, Lord Suheddin.” She said nothing more, turned on her heel, and led the way up to the princess’s chambers.
He followed her up the stairs, staring at the swaying asscheeks of the faithful servant. Aya had never before draped such a flimsy veil around her hips — or perhaps he had simply never looked closely enough. With every step, the buttocks beneath the veil swayed gracefully back and forth, so graceful and lovely. Socrates would have sung a song of joy for this magnificent Callipyge — that old womanizer! “I’ll ask one of my dragoon friends to take Aya out for a nice ride, because she deserves a good ride, the good soul,” he thought to himself, and her bare butt continued to sway so gracefully beneath the gossamer-thin veil, all the way up a hundred steps. Aya’s buttocks, completely bare beneath the transparent veil, moved gracefully like the flanks of a plump mare. Suheddin rubbed his eyes; between those plump flanks, he thought he could make out her dark bush. Yes, he confirmed his thought as he gazed approvingly at her gracefully bobbing ass — Aya deserves a good ride. He had seen Aya’s graceful ass a thousand times before, but had never given it a second thought, never really looked at it. He chided himself, for as a child of his time, he saw female servants only as genderless beings. Aya’s eyes had always fluttered excitedly when Suleika lay with him, but he had never truly noticed her sexual arousal.
Suleika jumped up from the couch and threw her arms around his neck. She cried — cried with joy and relief. “I never left — we just spread the word that I’d run away out of fear of the prince. And I would have slit Mirza’s throat on our wedding night — no doubt about it.” Suheddin sat down demurely beside her, and they had so much to tell each other. The loyal Aya stood guard as always. Fifteen years ago, she had nursed Suleika as a baby at her breast, and the girl was like a daughter to her. She had pocketed the prince’s bribes without batting an eye, without presenting even the slightest favor in return. She loved her daughter, the princess, and had lived through the ups and downs of love with her. Aya blushed from the roots of her hair all the way down to her nipples when Suheddin whispered to her with a wink that he would send one of his dragoon friends her way, because she probably deserved it one more time.
At the audience the following morning, Princess Suleika entered the hall wearing her most exquisite veils, with Suheddin half a step behind her. The Caliph rose with difficulty and walked toward his daughter, drawing her into his arms. His eyes rested silently on Suheddin’s face. He needed men like Suheddin — men of true steel who would not be lulled by the sound of shawms. Men with a mind of their own and backbone, men who would ride off immediately and bring his daughter back to him. Suleika followed her father to the throne and sat down proudly beside him, the exalted Caliph. He reached for her hand and held it tightly.
Harun al-Rashid beckoned Suheddin closer so that he could bring his ear close to the Caliphs lips. “Suheddin, you devil of a man, my daughter is sitting next to me again. Thank you, thank you, thank you! And now listen, my son: I have bribed two of my judicial advisors to vehemently demand your head. And likewise, two others who will just as vehemently demand your acquittal and promotion. Consequently, you will likely have to wait twenty years or more for your verdict — that is what I have decided. And in the meantime, continue to bask in the glow of my fatherly goodwill!” Suheddin straightened up, his eyes shining with deep gratitude, but he could not utter a word and stepped back again.
The audience continued. “Well, my daughter, I hear you spurned Prince Mirza, even though he lifted your veil and licked his lips in anticipation?” Suleika interrupted him. “Did you know that that sly prince tore my veil from my body in front of everyone and appraised me like a camel at the market?” The caliph shook his head; he had known nothing of it. “I was only told about it recently, and I was uncomfortable with the thought that your fiancé would inspect your body and your virginity with his own eyes in such a crude manner, like an uncouth stable boy.”
He bowed his aged head in shame. “Let’s not speak any more of the prince and his inappropriate behavior. — What will become of you, my Suleika? You’re no longer a child, but a girl at exactly the age when your father must marry you off as quickly as possible so that you don’t bring shame upon him. Look around you — here among the princes and men of honor — don’t you see a worthy husband?” Suleika looked around with a grin, as if she were considering each and every one of them. “Yes, Father, of course I see him among all these honorable princes and sweet young men. Of course I see him, and he sees me.”
Harun al-Rashid was more than happy to play along with this little farce — a bit of lighthearted entertainment amid important debates and decisions. “And now, will you reveal the secret to us?” he asked with a smile. But Suleika was enjoying the comedy. “No, Father, no. The time hasn’t come yet; I haven’t lifted my veil yet; I’ve never slept with him, because I’ve never slept with a man, dear Father.” Harun al-Rashid grinned across his entire old, wrinkled face, for Suleika had already slept with quite a few sweet boys, but none of them were yet men. Harun thought he could hear the cheeky, deceitful chatter of her mother. What cleverness his daughter displayed! His heart swelled with pride. “But you must hurry with your choice, my daughter, for your father is gradually growing old, blind, and deaf — the ruler of the believers, the unbelievers, and the cockroaches,” he chuckled.
Suleika rose and knelt before him. “Then allow me, my Caliph, my ruler of all this, to lift my veil before him and to lie down with him. For you have taught me that one should never buy a cat in a bag.” Harun al-Rashid slapped his thighs, laughing. “Did you hear that, my friends? My daughter is asking me for permission to take the cat out of the bag to see if his virility is really any good!? — Oh, what a clever, what a cunning child! She reads my own words back to me and twists them with great cleverness and skill to make them fit her purpose!” he exclaimed, laughing heartily.
He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “You are my daughter, undoubtedly born of my fiery blood, combined with your mother’s cunning and cheeky wit! You would never jump into cold water with your eyes closed; no, you’d send your maid ahead to make sure the water is only waist-deep. — But don’t send your old Aya; she’d buy that strapping young man even from a hook-nosed, hunchbacked, and lame deaf-mute — that’s how eager she is for a good ride!” The Caliph slapped his thighs with laughter, for of course he knew about the gaping emptiness in Aya’s bed. The people in the throne room smiled or laughed, some at the top of their lungs.
Suleika had taken her seat again; her gaze flattered Suheddin’s eyes in a charming way. Of course, she had slept with him many times before, but she didn’t need to rub that in her father’s face.
And as the audience turned its attention to more serious matters, the narrator quietly slipped away. A faint smile played on his lips, for now everything was in order and back on track. He did not doubt for a moment that Suheddin would soon be promoted to general and elevated to the nobility. And, and, and.
Alfie put the papers down. A mischievous gleam shone in his eyes. “See, Julia, how beautifully and nobly Schwab brought the story to a close? Everything’s going like clockwork, as they say here in Vienna. No more tears, my dearest. Suleika and her Suheddin will be together. And faithful Aya gets a strapping dragoon, on loan, of course. So, no more tears — at most, tears of joy, pleasure, or emotion.” Julia’s negligee had slipped from her shoulders, and she had reached for her bare breast as Aya led Suheddin up the stairs to Suleika’s chamber and he thoughtfully gazed at her gracefully swaying asscheeks. No, Alfie would have felt it was wrong to portray Suheddin as a saint without a body and beyond reproach — with a wink, of course. She hung on Alfie’s every word with childlike curiosity. Alfie, who stared at the blank pages and improvised the story on the spot — making it exciting, entertaining, and not without humor. Alfie, who described the old caliph Harun al-Rashid so vividly as an elderly gentleman, as if he’d been there himself. Alfie, who knew so well how to describe Suheddin’s gaze on Aya’s gracefully swaying ass. Oh, Alfie, what a quirky guy you are! she thought with a smile. Yes, this Alfie — he was her man. Forever and ever.
Julia was cured of brittle bone disease. The doctor nearly did a somersault when she looked at the bone density measurements from the past few months. Whatever might have been encoded in that little packet of mRNA, it did exactly what it was supposed to. Julia’s bones were strong and healthy — no question about it. The fact that Julia still enjoyed taking her Ferrari out for a spin was simply a matter of habit and convenience. A wheelchair user never had to stand in line anywhere, and that was just one of the advantages. And by the pond, she sat in her own wheelchair with heated seats, while Alfie sat on the park bench without heated seats. Alfie laughed, “Heated seats? What’s the point of that?” Julia, however, felt right at home. Shaking people’s hands without having to worry about breaking a bone — that was something.
Julia empathized with Yvonne as she witnessed her friend’s roller-coaster rides up close. Yvonne had a real talent for reeling in those guys who, while good in bed, were closer in character to amoebas than to sincere Christians. Julia still strictly refused to let Yvonne bring her latest conquest home with her. They had incorporated Alfie into their Tuesday afternoons and their girl-on-girl sex with ease and sincerity; by now, that was just fine the way it was. Julia had sex every day, and she had absolutely no desire to get involved with Yvonne’s conquests. There was one thing her grandpa had emphasized time and again: if sex became a habitual pastime, a race, or a soulless duty, then she was on the completely wrong path. Sex without love was like a fish out of water. It might squirm — because fish and sex just squirm — but both were dying. Julia never forgot her grandpa’s warning words. He was a very wise man, and he didn’t teach her trivialities, but only solid, joyful experiences. Getting involved with Yvonne’s suitors — that would truly be the kind of trivialities Julia didn’t need.
She thought long and hard about Alfie’s story of Suheddin and Harun al-Rashid. One thing was clear: there were other interesting things to read as well, not just legends and myths from the ancient Greek pantheon. Time and again, she would take a break from her work on her gods and read one story or another. At first, it was just a change of pace — a mental gallop across new, different, or unknown meadows. But she soon realized how enriching it was to immerse herself in the world the author had created. Indeed, she quickly set aside boring or trite fiction if it didn’t get under her skin. Her membership in the Vienna Public Library, which dated back to her high school days, experienced a new lease on life. With just a few clicks, it was so easy to borrow a book — many of them even in purely digital form.
It was probably just a coincidence that Julia met a group of people with disabilities who used wheelchairs. She had seen a brochure in the doctor’s waiting room and jotted down the email address. On a whim, she attended one of their monthly meetings. Somehow, the issues raised by the women in wheelchairs seemed trivial — or even banal — to Julia. Yes, they had to write to the city council about the lack of accessible entry here and there. The city council then promptly replied, saying how well they understood the situation, but — drumroll! — there wasn’t enough money, as both the female and male city council members wrote regretfully. Julia had actually already decided to wrap up this interlude and call it quits.
But then she met Rocky. His name was Robert Niehaus, the only son of a fairly well-known couple of surgeons. Somehow he’d come to be called Rocky — and certainly not because of the movie character played by Sylvester Stallone. It had just happened at some point. Rocky was in a wheelchair because of a spinal cord problem; he was 13 and a half and a pretty good student. Although he was — quite rightly — very proud of his computer skills, he had no friends, neither boys nor girls. When Julia saw him for the first time, she immediately thought of the character Dwarf Long Nose from the children’s books she’d read as a child. Rocky had a prominent hooked nose, a small hump, and, like many wheelchair users, rather atrophied leg muscles. He lived just a few streets away from her, on Riemergasse, in a beautifully maintained old building from the previous century. His parents were quite successful but rarely around — doctors who gave him every luxury except one: their presence as a father and mother. From their very first meeting, Julia sensed how clingy he was, how much he longed for “someone else.”
She didn’t mind that he insisted on parking his wheelchair right next to her Ferrari when they first met at a meeting. That he reached across the gap between their wheelchairs and held her hand, just as other children press their pink bunnies or green teddy bears to their chests. She sensed his hunger for closeness, and it was an almost maternal feeling on her part to let him hold her hand. Oh yes, she knew how much one could suffer from such feelings, even though she was privileged in that regard and fate had not treated her unfairly. She noticed how listlessly Rocky voted at the end of the meeting on the wording of the next letter to the authorities. The boy wasn’t unsympathetic, that little guy Longnose. And he definitely didn’t belong to that circle of pitiful disabled people.
That made his invitation to his house all the more surprising. She absolutely had to see his computer setup; he had designed it all himself and built it with his own hands — every single screw. Julia found it unusual that a boy as young as 13 would design his own computer system and build it himself, with his own two hands. Rocky grinned. “A screwdriver, tweezers, and a soldering iron — it’s really no big deal,” he said in the tone of little Gyro Gearloose. Julia glanced at her watch. “For half an hour, but no longer. I’m writing my dissertation and have a strict schedule that I always stick to, even if you wanted to show me the Pyramids of Giza, Rocky.” He nodded; half an hour, but at least 30 minutes, he said with a smile. “I won’t distract you from your work, Julia. I just want us to maybe become friends — real, good friends, perhaps. You’ve got what it takes; I knew that from the very first second. I’ve already got enough non-friends and non-girlfriends,” he said, and he was completely serious.
They rolled side by side down Riemergasse, and she gave him a rough outline of what her dissertation was about. Rocky knew quite a bit about the ancient Greek pantheon, since he read a lot and loved to read. Julia’s heart warmed; finally, someone who didn’t just know Zeus, Hera, and Aphrodite from skimming past them. Someone who got straight to the point: “You want to prove that Hera’s a pretty rotten apple, a bit of a wild slut, aren’t you? And not the saint everyone wrote her up to be.” Julia was completely amazed: a 13-year-old who hit the “bull’s-eye” in less than 15 minutes. They drove through the underground parking garage, where they took the elevator up to the penthouse. About 500 square meters of luxury, elegantly, tastefully, and expensively furnished. Rocky introduced Julia to Anni, who seemed to be the housekeeper or a jack-of-all-trades. “Would you like some elderberry lemonade? We buy it from farmers in Burgenland, and in my opinion, it’s the best for miles around.” Julia said yes and followed him. He had a small, windowless bedroom, the walls neatly covered with pictures of naked girls. There was no door between his sleeping area and his “office,” his “study.” Seventy-five square meters, meticulously tidy and very neat. “If you work with computers, you can’t be a slob or a mess-maker,” he said with a serious expression.
Julia was surprised — after all, she had a computer with a printer and a scanner, of course. But this — this was a monster of a computer. No toy — this was a real “installation” that truly deserved the name. Prominently displayed were two gray, chest-high towers bearing the names “Rocky I” and “Rocky II” in silver letters. “Those are my servers, each with 96 terabytes. That — that’s quite a lot. They’re mirrored with RAID for data redundancy. And back there, that big black behemoth — that’s the backup generator, in case of power outages. It lasts for two hours, that thing.” She spotted two scanners that were almost identical and four printers. “Why would a sane person need four printers? Four?” Julia asked curiously. Rocky smiled, “A laser printer for text and so on. Its twin is the backup in case the sister twin breaks down. A photo printer, and over there in the back, the big color laser printer — that’s where I print out the ‘Girl of the Month’ for my bedroom. I bought the printers and scanners because building them from scratch would require a larger workspace and a lot of specialty tools. My parents do give me a lot of money for my hobby, but they don’t want to shower me with cash — that’s not their style. They want me to learn to budget and pay off my bank loan in installments, and I think that’s just the right thing to do.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Around 250,000 to 300,000 euros, give or take.”
Anni had placed two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade on a small side table. “She’s not allowed to come any further in — ever since she damaged almost everything with her cleaning obsession, she’s only allowed to go as far as the little table, not a millimeter further. We get along pretty well that way. I vacuum once a week; I also have two extra vacuums for the insides of my appliances. — Well, what do you think, Julia?” Julia took another look at the beautiful, functional office. “You’re very professional for your age — or rather, for your youth — and I like that about you, Rocky. I don’t know the first thing about computers, but I’ve gotten the impression that you take this very seriously and handle it like a true professional, Rocky. And I find that very endearing about you. I guess a toy train set would bore you.” Rocky looked her straight in the eye. “After high school, I want to study computer science at the university and then start a company where I’ll build the best computers and servers myself. That dwarf Longnose is totally unsuitable for surgery. Of course, I’m also allowed to watch Mom in the Operation Room when she reduces labia or fixes or beautifies clitorises — that’s how she makes a ton of cash. I love watching because I get to see so many different kinds of twats without Mom smacking me — if you know what I mean.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Twat isn’t a nice word for a beautiful body part, you little pig!”
Julia glanced over toward his bedroom. “Tell me, how would you describe yourself — ‘over-computerized’ or ‘over-sexed’? I’m assuming that, as a computer specialist, you understand English.” Rocky thought about it for a long time. “Actually, both, if I’m being honest. When I’m sitting at the computer, I’m completely focused and don’t think about sex for a second. And when I’m lying on my bed, touching myself, and looking at my girls with lust, then I think only about sex, not computers.” Julia nodded; it was a good — and above all, honest — answer. “If we’re always honest with each other, we can be real friends one day, Rocky.”
He looked up expectantly. “Real friends, with sex and everything?” Julia shook her head. “No, Rocky, definitely not. I have a husband, Alfie — the best husband in the world. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else for anything in the world, and please don’t be mad at me for that. But my love for Alfie is something special, unique, maybe even sacred. So yeah, no hookups or anything like that, even if it makes you sad, little man.”
His face lit up. “Even in kindergarten, the girls called me ‘little man’ because of my big thing. Back then, I could still walk on my own and didn’t need a wheelchair. The girls would squeal with delight when I took it out — after all, I was the only boy. They always wanted to touch and feel it again and again. That was okay; I was, after all, their dear Little Nose. When they played with it and I read them the unabridged version of ‘Dwarf Little Nose’ — which I’d written myself, of course — they’d giggle and squeal whenever Little Nose hypnotized the three princesses with his sweet talk and then had his way with them one after the other. My Dwarf Long Nose was just that kind of naughty little guy I would have loved to be myself, if I’d had legs. The attendants at the Marxist kindergarten were very open-minded and modern and rarely intervened, because the girls were allowed to touch him however they pleased. Just playfully, though, because many girls had already seen real sex, and they were supposed to process it playfully with Dwarf Long Nose. We children were supposed to learn how to deal with our childlike sexuality — and that’s exactly what we did.”
Julia smiled. “So, for you, the nickname ‘Dwarf Long Nose’ isn’t offensive at all, Rocky?” He laughed. “No, not at all! I was proud of my guy who’d grown way too big, and I was just as proud that the girls saw me and my guy as ‘Shorty Nose’ from my made-up story and accepted us.” Julia glanced at her smartwatch. “We should do this again sometime, if you’d like, Rocky. To become friends — close friends — but not the kind who make out, okay? I’d interrogate you about your ‘Dwarf Long Nose’ and his little friend like a Gestapo officer, and in return, you can ask me anything that doesn’t directly lead to sex. Deal?”
Rocky was beaming from ear to ear. “Oh, how wonderful! You want to come back! I’d love to jump up and do a Hilly-Billy dance, but I can’t manage that anymore. Shall we set a date — a real date?” Julia thought for a moment. “I always set aside two hours on Thursday afternoons for reading; I could skip that and come over to grill you about this and that and so on. Would that be okay?” Rocky crinkled his face into deep wrinkles and pretended to be thinking very hard. “About this and that and so on?” He smiled. “Thursday, you say? Two hours? Well, let me think about it. Thursday afternoon — I’d actually have dance class then, South American and Latin dances, if I could walk instead of rolling around in a wheelchair. So yeah, deal — Thursday’s booked!”
He paused. “I’m going to take a closer look at your Ferrari — through the eyes of an engineer — because I’d like to build an electric car like that myself, one that can climb stairs like your Ferrari. That’s a challenge.” Julia’s smartwatch beeped softly. “I have to head out, Rocky — work calls, and I’ll call back. So Thursday, let’s say at three — 3:00 p.m.?” Rocky nodded. “You’ll find your way to the underground parking garage — it’s always open. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs by the elevator at exactly 3:00 p.m., not a second later. Because you can’t take the elevator without a key.” Julia stood up and got into her Ferrari. Rocky drove her down to the underground parking garage, then crowed cheerfully, “Goodbye — see you Thursday at 3:00 p.m. and zero seconds!” and Julia drove home, lost in thought.
Of course, she told Alfie every little detail about Rocky while they were relaxing in bed, smoking. Alfie’s eyes widened. “A Marxist kindergarten? Oh, we don’t have that anymore — no Marx anywhere, nowhere! And the girls played with his thing, as you say? In kindergarten?” Julia wasn’t sure either. “That Rocky, the little runt — he was pretty precocious even back then. Maybe that played the decisive role.” Alfie nodded, but the matter was far from settled. “That kid’s oversexed, if you ask me.” He bit his lower lip. “I’m not buying your categorical ‘no’ that easily, Julia. You and Yvonne — you two dragged me into your Tuesday games, and I have sex with her, too. I get that you’re curious about this Rocky, but I’m not buying your categorical ‘no.’ Just see how things develop. Only if nothing develops does your ‘no’ really make sense — otherwise, it doesn’t.” Alfie shook his head. “Thirteen! At thirteen, I was lying next to Mom with our little machines, and we were just relaxing. I wasn’t even close to thinking about sex at that age, especially since my dad died so miserably back then.” Julia sat up straight as a board. “Having sex with a 13-year-old is considered a serious crime, my dear! Don’t lose sight of that. I could ruin my entire career. With a 13-year-old! My God!” The matter troubled Alfie more than Julia would have believed. Apparently, there was a connection to his relationship with his mother that hadn’t yet been revealed, but she wouldn’t press him for details. But to keep something from him — that would be a lie, a betrayal.
On Thursday, at exactly 2:59:30 p.m., Julia was waiting by the elevator in the underground parking garage. Rocky arrived right on the dot, but without his wheelchair — instead, he was wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. Her gaze immediately fell on his thin legs. “I practice walking without my wheelchair for an hour every day, on doctor’s orders,” Rocky said as they rode up. Glasses and iced lemonade were already waiting; Anni remained out of sight, and they sat down at his desk, which was made of acrylic glass. He had gotten a second swivel chair, so Julia “parked” her Ferrari and walked over to the chair. Rocky, his legs wobbly, fetched an ashtray from his parents’ apartment next door; he himself didn’t smoke, not even a joint. It was a matter of principle. “Smoking would harm my libido,” he lectured.
He looked at her expectantly as she drew the smoke from the joint deep into her lungs and, a few seconds later, exhaled it in little rings. “And now I’m curious about the Gestapo officer,” Rocky said with a smile. Julia backed off a bit. She was just curious and wanted to find out everything — everything he could reveal. Rocky smiled. “I’m only 13 and a half; you don’t have any secrets at that age, Julia. Those come later, when you’re an adult, I think. And my little guy hasn’t seen anything of the world yet, unfortunately. But I’d be happy to make something up for you — I’ve already seen it all on the internet.” Julia spread her fingers. “No lies, nothing made up, Rocky — just the truth and only hard facts.”
He looked through his desk at Julia’s legs. “It’s a miracle that you’re completely cured of brittle bone disease, Julia. A true miracle — I looked it up online, and there’s no cure, at least not yet.” Julia felt her way through the facts. “My husband, Alfie — he’s from the Chicago area — and he bought me a treatment in the U.S. They’re already much further along there than we are here in old, slow-moving Europe. An mRNA treatment that repaired my defective genes. I’ve been able to walk on my own for about a year now, but I’m not ready to give up my Ferrari just yet. As if I hadn’t paid off the bank loan yet — okay?” Rocky smiled. “Bank loan — that rings a bell. I’m still stuttering my way through the payments too, but that’s really unimportant. Not exactly what you’d want during an interrogation by a tough Gestapo officer, Julia,” he grinned.
"I've read that the disease is often accompanied by a decreased libido, while for others, you have to tone down the libido," Rocky said. Julia grinned through the sacred smoke. “My libido is absolutely overflowing — it’s been that way since I was a kid. I’m not letting anyone tone it down, not in a million years! That’s just how it is.” Rocky laughed softly. “It doesn’t work that way. You’re the Gestapo woman — you’re supposed to be interrogating me, not the other way around.” Julia laughed. “We’re quite the pair, Rocky. I set out to interrogate you about this and that, and now you have to listen to me go on about my love life. Okay, just one more thing to complete the picture: Alfie and I have been having sex for two years — pretty much since we met. And once a week we play a mixed doubles match as a threesome with my best friend, but without a referee. Just the ball, the court, and us without tennis rackets. Simple, uncomplicated, and athletic.” Rocky pursed his lips. “Uncomplicated? Simple?” Julia took a drag on her joint; she felt as light as a butterfly.
Rocky suggested they lie down on his bed, where she could take a really good look at all his girls. They were all totally different, yet somehow similar in their beauty. Julia hesitated — it was all happening too fast for her. “How exactly am I supposed to understand this ‘and so on’ business? You said the other day that you lie on your bed, admire your hot group of girls, and enjoy yourself? Or did I miss something?” Rocky grinned crookedly. “No, you remembered it all correctly. Maybe you should add that I sometimes lie on my bed for hours on end. Maybe you’d also categorize my libido as sometimes exuberant — just for the Gestapo report, of course.”
Julia laughed her head off. Of course she’s high from the joint, but she’s picturing it all in her mind, and then she laughs. “I should call you Loki, the god of deception and trickery. I can see you longing for your mom, and her just telling you to go ask Anni. Yeah, she’s your mom, and you just don’t do that to your son — that makes sense, doesn’t it? And Anni — excuse me — she’s probably completely deaf when it comes to your brilliant ideas. “Oh, Rocky, you’re worse than the Gestapo ever imagined. You’re definitely going to hell, my boy — to the ‘overripe teenagers’ section,” she exclaimed with a laugh.
Okay, if he took the ashtray with him, then she’d lie down next to him on the bed and check out his playmates. She’d already lit up her next joint and was high as a monarch butterfly in Mariposa Monarca, Mexico. Swaying slightly, she walked over to the bed and flopped down. Rocky didn’t waste any time and pulled off his boxer shorts. “Oh — holy — Carmen!” she exclaimed as she looked at him. The boy was only 13 and a half, but his thing was bigger than Alfie’s and three times as big and massive as Grandpa’s. She averted her lecherous gaze and fixed it on the beauties on the walls. Rocky didn’t have bad taste — she had to give him that. The girls’ poses were completely natural and graceful — nothing lewd. “Rocky, please get dressed again. We agreed: no fucking, no faffing around, and no nonsense. So please be so kind! Wait until I’ve zoomed off in my Ferrari, then have fun afterward.” They lay side by side in silence, and Julia only dared to steal the occasional sideways glance at his boxer shorts, his hand inside the boxer short. But no, that was out of the question — she’d made up her mind, butterflies or not.
Rocky pressed himself close to her. “Is that okay?” She nodded. “So, you wanted to grill me about the ‘and so on,’ Ms. Gestapo Sweetheart. I’ll get started, since you obviously don’t know the first thing about a tough interrogation, Julia.” He buried his face in her armpit. “In the morning, when I take a bath, Anni sits on the edge of the tub and watches me with cold, fishy eyes as I do it underwater. ‘You’re a really dirty little rascal,’ she says, shaking her head, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me. “You’re going to the deepest, most wretched hell, because what you’re doing there is pretty gross, Robert.” But she grins crookedly when the little white worms float to the surface.”
"When Mom came to take me a bath, Anni usually stayed away. Mom sits on the edge of the tub, too, but she just smiles sweetly at the 'and so on.' 'Don’t listen to that spiteful old woman,' Mom says, 'first of all, there’s no hell, and second, your 'and so on' is perfectly normal and natural, Robert. — Maybe Anni’s just jealous because she doesn’t have a strapping young man in her bed, a strapping guy like you. So, don’t let her get you down, Robert. You’re a good boy and you won’t go to hell — I guarantee it.”
Julia slipped her arm under his head so he could rest comfortably on her shoulder. “I’m right here with Mom, Rocky. That ‘and so on’ is just fine; otherwise, I’d have to sit by your side in hell because of my own ‘and so on.’ But you don’t seem to have any respect for Anni, and I don’t think that’s right. She’s an employee, not a piece of trash. She has a twisted view of some things — that may well be true. But she’s not disrespectful toward you — she’s just voicing the concerns she has.” Rocky growled, “Voicing concerns — and at the same time watching this spectacle. That doesn’t add up, Julia. I’ve got eyes in my head, and I can tell right away when a bolt and a nut don’t fit together.”
Julia asked if his mom touched him while he was taking a bath. He rolled his eyes. “Back when I wasn’t very good at it yet, she always liked to do it so I could learn. Anni stood there watching and rolled her eyes heavenward like a toad in distress. Mom did it over and over again and didn’t stop until nothing more came out and I was completely exhausted; that’s how it’s supposed to be, she’d told me and Anni. She swirled the little white worms in the bathwater with her hand, looked at Anni, and said she’d better take care of Dwarf Long Nose every morning, or else there’d be a proper thunderstorm. Anni rolled her eyes toward the sky and said, ‘Yes, ma’am!” But Mom has stopped doing that now — and no amount of heart-wrenching begging helps anymore.” Julia smiled. “Oh, I understand that perfectly. Your mom doesn’t want to fall into the incest trap — she’s a smart woman.” Rocky asked if her mom had fallen into the incest trap. Julia shook her head. “No, my parents died in an accident; I wasn’t even two yet. I grew up with my grandparents.” She thought for a moment. “My grandpa didn’t want to send me out into the world without knowing anything. He gently guided my finger so I’d learn the ‘and so on’ part correctly. My grandpa was a kind-hearted man — the best grandpa you could imagine.”
Rocky shook his head. “My grandpa and grandma haven’t come to see the little cripple in a long time.” Julia gave him a tap on the back of the head. “You’d better cross the word ‘cripple’ off your list, you silly computer expert. A cripple is someone who snatches a grandma’s purse or shoves her on the crosswalk. Someone who steals the coins from a beggar’s cup. That’s a cripple, and you’re not one — you’re Dwarf Long Nose, the one little girls love to grope.”
Rocky rolled his eyes. "That was a hundred years ago, Julia. Nowadays, I have to thank Saint Jerome if one of the girls at the high school lets Zwerg Nase lure her curiously behind the bushes."
Her watch beeped softly. “Storytime’s over, Rocky. Shall we reschedule the next interrogation about the girls from the high school for next Thursday at the same time!?” Rocky nodded and stood up unsteadily. He walked her down to the underground parking garage. “I know now that we’re going to be good friends, Julia. Very good friends — no messing around, no frills, and none of that stuff. That’s how you want it, right?” She nodded and drove off.
Alfie grunted and snorted as she told him everything. “We both know it’s not about size. And you say, he did it inside his boxer-shorts, three times? It’s interesting how he’s into his mom. I know exactly what’s going on in his heart — I was his age once, too. Most guys probably have that fantasy, as long as their mom doesn’t have bad breath. And, if we’re to believe the statistics, for most of them it remains just a fantasy. Thank God!” Julia bit her tongue to keep from replying. She thought of the incestuous goings-on on Mount Olympus, which men had probably made up. At least in the legends and myths, it played out in such a way that the numbers would just fly right past the statisticians’ ears.
Once again, Rocky picked her up in the underground parking garage; once again, he came without a wheelchair, wearing just a T-shirt and boxer shorts. “I’m practicing walking and standing every day now, without a wheelchair. I overheard Mom and the doctor talking — my spine is really shot and is deteriorating from the inside out, every day. ‘He probably won’t make it to 30,’ the doctor said regretfully, and Mom cried like a baby. I at least want to be able to walk again before I die, Julia.” When they got upstairs, two glasses and some iced lemonade were waiting for them. Rocky went straight to his sleeping area and lay down on the bed; Julia parked the Ferrari and followed him, feeling a little anxious. “No fooling around and no nonsense, Rocky, please don’t! You can snuggle up to me — that’s okay. I’d love to give you warmth and closeness.” Rocky actually snuggled up to her and wrapped an arm around her chest, his lips right against her ear. “I’ve always longed for someone with whom I can discuss my interests and to whom I can snuggle up physically. Because I miss that so much!” Julia understood what he meant. His hand slipped inside his boxer-shorts.
Rocky lay next to her, enjoying the closeness and warmth of their bodies. His hand rested on her T-shirt, on her breast, but in a completely innocent way. He whispered about how Anni bathed him every morning and how she did it reluctantly, full of disgust. Anni was very upset — bathing a boy as big as him like a toddler was the absolute worst! But she did it, grumbling and reluctantly. The boss, his mom, had ordered it. Rocky told Julia about his fantasies, how he planned to seduce Anni. Yes, he described in minute detail exactly how he could manipulate her and pounce on her. How he would achieve his goal, without any violence at all. She would surely go along with it; she wouldn’t put up any serious resistance, because she didn’t want to lose her job.
Julia looked at him from the side. “Come on, think about it again! Isn’t it a form of violence when you force her to do your bidding so she can keep her job? This is a truly insidious form of violence, Rocky. Shame on you! And here’s another thing. You should never do that with employees or subordinates. How willingly are they getting involved with you? Not at all, believe me. There’s always dynamite in there — it can explode at any moment and blow right back in your face! And one last point: would you print out a picture of Anni and stick it on the wall right here, among your playmates?” Rocky swallowed hard. “Oh, come on, Anni doesn’t belong here — she’s no beauty, for crying out loud!” Julia smiled. “See, that’s my last point. I can see all around me that you have good taste in choosing your playmates — really good taste, in fact. Beautiful, graceful, soft-to-the-touch girls, every single one of them. So why are you chasing after Anni? I’d say she’s downright ugly, even though no one is really ugly. You only want her because she’s always within reach. A very convenient, lazy, and undignified point of view, I’d say. But what about the girls at the high school?” Rocky swallowed hard. “They only go behind the bushes with me because they’re curious about my Dwarf Nose. There’s not a trace of affection, Julia. That kind of curiosity is like a direct insult — they just want to know what it feels like with the Dwarfs Nose. I hate them for it, even though I enjoy the closeness, the nudity, and the fluids of course.”
Julia stroked his hair, his head. “Keep pursuing the girls from high school. One or two of them will realize what an enchanting, sweet prince is hidden inside Dwarf Long Nose. Always remember how popular Dwarf Long Nose used to be — back then, the girls weren’t shy around you.” Rocky buried his face in her armpit; he didn’t want her to notice how bitterly he was crying over the girls at the high school — his Dwarf Long Nose.
Another time, he brought up his mom. They had moved past the “Anni phase,” and he realized he should leave the employee alone. Now he dared to confide his most secret fantasies about his mom to his best friend. How intensely he dreamed of his mom and her body. How much he was drawn to her. Julia shook her head. “Would you put a picture of your mom up on the wall here?” Rocky nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah, she’s a real beauty and would outshine all the girls when it comes to looks and beauty!” Julia had to change her strategy, take a detour. “But you do see her naked when she has time to give you a bath, and so on?” Rocky nodded up and down. “Yes, Julia. She’s just centimeters away and yet out of reach! She never lets me touch her skin. A long time ago, my hand strayed under her butt, directly, just as she was making it so nice for me — you know what I mean. ‘Keep your hands to yourself, son!’ she said sternly. I haven’t touched her since, Julia.”
And now he was describing to her, in vivid, explicit detail, what his mom’s body looked like. Excitedly, his fingers absentmindedly pinched Julia’s nipple through her T-shirt. She ignored it and listened intently. Oh, she knew all those details already — that wasn’t what mattered. His voice carried a longing for his mom’s touch, for her embrace, for her kisses — for child’s kisses. Julia shuddered or felt a chill as she listened to him and the tone of his voice. No, this wasn’t the sex-crazed jerk who was after incest. This wasn’t the teenager who was desperate to have sex with her, no matter what the consequences might be. No, this was a boy in dire straits, who missed his mother as a mother, not as a sexual partner. Rocky pulled himself together when he admitted to his eavesdropping. Mom was more or less just drifting through life alongside Dad, and she had some occasional affairs, mostly with men. And Rocky, that hapless little guy, sank into deep depression the more intensely and passionately Mom lay in the arms of a lover. Rocky recognized these bouts of depression very clearly and successfully shook them off. Julia pulled him close. She felt so sorry for him.
Julia blew the smoke into the air in little, playful curls. “I’m not going to lecture you on incest, Rocky — I’ve got my own story, after all. But your mom’s right — it’s a sin against God and nature, not just against human laws; we don’t give a damn about those anyway.” Rocky stared at the group of girls on the wall and nodded. “I dream about my mom, but of course they’re just dreams — nothing physical. I might be oversexed, but I’m no idiot, Julia. They’re just thoughts and longings spinning around in my head. Not my hands — I’ve got those under control.” Julia pulled him close. “I understand very well that you’re missing closeness and warmth. At the same time, I’m convinced that you’re the star in your mom’s eyes, even if she’s currently drowning in work and barely has any time for you, my boy.”
Julia glanced at her smartwatch; she still had a few minutes before she had to leave. She sat up and cupped Rocky’s face in her hands. “Rocky, I have to tell you something that might hurt a little. I won’t be coming here to see you anymore. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I have to stay away — for my own sake. We agreed: no frills and no hookups, and you’ve stuck to that like a man of honor, a gentleman. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to keep that agreement. I can feel how we’re both drifting further and further apart, step by step. I have to make a radical break with my past. I’m not going to seduce a 14-year-old and corrupt him. Be a good boy — keep your hands off Anni and your mom — and please focus on the girls at high school. Show them the enchanted prince hidden inside Dwarf Long Nose. Fall in love, chase after them, lift their skirts, and let them be curious — that’s how it has to be; that’s the right thing for a smart boy like you. It hurts my heart, too, but I can’t come anymore. I really can’t.” Tears ran down Rocky’s cheeks.
He understood and grasped every word, and he didn’t see anything wrong with it. Julia knew herself better than he did, and if she didn’t want to cross her line, then that was fine. But still, it hurt like hell to lose her. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “Yes, losing you as a friend hurts like hell. And not because we did anything wrong or because we crossed the line. I’ll cry for a long time because you’ve grown dear to my heart. But still, you’ve given me something, Julia. You came to see me Thursday after Thursday; you listened to me patiently, just like a girlfriend; you opened my eyes to certain things and showed me the right path. Thursday after Thursday, I was able to snuggle up against your warm body and feel something like affection and a sense of belonging. I’ll frame these gifts deep in my heart and hang them on the wall. It doesn’t matter if I’m crying right now. What matters is that you’ll still be in my soul, in my heart, somehow. Yes, I’ll keep my fingers away from Anni and Mom, because it feels wrong. I’ll take better care of the girls at school, just as you said. You gave Little Nose confidence and hope that one day a Cinderella would discover the enchanted prince and willingly go behind the bushes with Little Nose. And for that, I thank you, Julia, my best friend!” He buried his face in her bosom and wailed, crying out all his pain.
Julia lay next to Alfie, nestling her face against his chest. He listened in silence as she told him — just as she did every Thursday — how she’d let little Rocky, Dwarf Long Nose, hug her that afternoon until her smartwatch beeped. Alfie’s hand rested warmly and reassuringly on her back. He listened with a smile, clearly sensing her arousal and sexual desire. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so much with him, my love. He may be a child by definition, but he’s also a 14-year-old with big, hungry eyes. He wanted closeness and skin-to-skin contact, and you gave it to him because you have a big, compassionate heart, Julia.” Alfie was glad that she was so at one with her maternal feelings and her social empathy. That was something that was definitely part of who she was.
"I won't go back to him, Alfie. I said goodbye to him properly and honestly. I know myself and the devil in my body pretty well. First we'll lie next to each other fully clothed. Then we'll lie next to each other naked, skin to skin. And the next time, we'll cross the line. I won’t allow myself to ruin a 14-year-old. That’s not who I am; that’s not my character. I’m far from having to give in to every impulse of my sex drive. I’m a human being; I have a mind of my own, and I want to take full responsibility for everything I do or don’t do. And what I certainly won’t do is seduce 14-year-old Robert and ruin his childhood.”
Alfie took the joint from her hand and took a deep drag. “I’m really sorry about Robert. I would have been fine with you letting loose for once. But I’m sure you’ve thought it through and are doing what you can live with.”
Julia rested her chin in her palm. "That’s something you won’t read in my dissertation: for all his power, the king of the gods had no power over his own lusts. In short, a dick-driven idiot. Yes, that’s what he was — not a man who changed the world and gave it a positive nudge, like Hammurabi or Ramses III. He was the ultimate womanizer, nothing more, and the ancient Greeks were simply foolish enough to admire it, caught up in a sort of mass psychosis. Of course, you won’t find any of that in my doctoral thesis; after all, you taught me to work with a clear objective and not to ruin things right off the bat with my obsession for the truth."
Alfie took the joint from her hand again and took a deep drag. "You said it, and I couldn't agree with you more. I ought to wonder why I haven't put it quite so clearly before. But I know the reason: Zeus and the gods vanished from our culture without a trace because we gradually realized he was just a dick-driven idiot — nothing more. His breath had an expiration date; it’s as simple as that. Even if we won't read it explicitly in your dissertation." He absentmindedly slid the strap of her negligee down. "Sex is powerful. Sex is great. Sex can make us feel wonderfully happy, relaxed, in love, and drawn to one another. But sex isn't some all-singing, all-dancing cure-all that represents our be-all and end-all. There is more — so much more — in the land of Ophir waiting for us to discover and experience it. We are destined to lift the veil a little and catch a glimpse of the 'Callipyge' — those beautiful curves beneath the veil; old Sophocles knew that, the old lecher."
Julia smiled. Yes, that was her Alfie. He could phrase things so poetically that her fingers would twitch, wanting to jot it down, to quote him. And he was right. We really are destined to lift veils and peek curiously at the 'Callipyge', even though the rational mind yawns in boredom and dismisses it, having seen it all a thousand times before. She thought of Yvonne — of the moment she first saw Alfie asleep, how she had lifted the sheet quite matter-of-factly to verify that the bald guy was, in fact, a guy.
Yes, that’s how we are.
Sophocles knew that.
He was a bright fellow, that Sophocles.
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