Therapy

people’s private conversations, why don’t you put those earphones on and listen to the radio?
    Hmmph! What a cheek. I mean, I’m sorry about her hysterectomy and everything, but she didn’t have to be so stroppy. I wasn’t talking all that loud, was I? Oh, all right, Hetty, I’ll move my chair nearer to the bed and murmur in your ear, is that better? So there were these three people in the film sucking and fucking away like mad and after about ten minutes they all had the most tremendous orgasms — no really, they did, Hetty, honestly. At least the men did, because they pulled their willies out to show the semen squirting all over the place. The girl rubbed it into her cheeks as if it was skincare lotion. Are you feeling all right, darling? You’re looking a little pale. The time? It’s... good heavens, half past three. I must go soon, but I’ll just finish the story. Well the film went on in the same style. The next scene showed two naked girls, one black and one white, taking turns to lick each other, but they weren’t real lesbians because the two men from the previous scene peeped through the window at them and came in and it turned into another orgy. Well, I don’t mind telling you that by this time I was quite wet with excitement and one big hot flush from head to toe. I’ve never felt so randy in my entire life. I was beside myself. I would have fucked anybody at that moment, never mind the nice clean English scriptwriter in the next room who had, I thought, brought me to Copenhagen specifically for that purpose. It could only be shyness, I decided, that was holding him back. I should phone him up and tell him about the amazing video I had found on the hotel telly and invite him to come and watch it with me. I reckoned that a few minutes’ exposure to the movie, sitting next to me in my dressing-gown with not a stitch on underneath, would soon see off his shyness. I should perhaps explain that I had polished off the half-bottle of champers by this time and was feeling pretty reckless as well as randy. He took quite a time to answer the phone, so I said I hoped I hadn’t woken him up. He said, no, he had been watching television and had just turned down the volume before picking up the phone. Only he hadn’t turned it down quite enough. I recognized the tinkly disco music and faint moaning and groaning in the background. There’s not very much dialogue in these films. Not much work for a script editor, I should think. I giggled and said, “I think you must be watching the same movie as me.” He mumbled something, sounding terribly embarrassed, and I said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we watched it together? Why don’t you come along to my room?” There was a silence and then he said, “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” and I said, “Why not?” and he said, “I just don’t.” Well, we sparred like that for a while, and then I got impatient and said, “For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Last week in that Italian restaurant you made it very obvious that you fancied me, and now that I’m practically throwing myself at you, you hang back. What did you bring me here for if you don’t want to sleep with me?” There was another pause and then he said, “You’re quite right, that was why I asked you to come, but when I got here I found I couldn’t do it.” I asked him why not. He said, “Because of Kierkegaard.” I thought this was terribly funny and said, “We won’t tell him.” He said, “No, I’m serious. Perhaps on Friday evening, if you hadn’t been so tired... ” “You mean pissed,” I said, “Well, whatever,” he said. “But as I started to explore Copenhagen and think about Kierkegaard, and especially when we went to the room in the museum, it was as if I felt his presence, like a spirit or a good angel, saying, ‘Don’t exploit this young girl.’ He had a thing about young girls, you see.” “But I’m dying to be exploited,” I said. “Come and exploit me, in any position you like. Look at the screen, now. Would you like that? I’ll do it with you.” I won’t tell you what it was, darling, you might be shocked. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said. “You’d regret it in the morning.” “No I wouldn’t,” I said. “Anyway, why are you watching this filthy movie if you’re so virtuous? Would Kierkegaard approve of that?” “Probably not,” he said, “but I’m not doing any harm to anyone else.”