“Come in.” And boundaries were crossed, as he welcomed the intrusion. No need for words; so strong was the allure.
”Caught you!” exclaimed Fritz.
And with that she gave him permission.
And that was how it went until he started talking. “The sensuality of women is a primal spring at which the intellectuality of men finds renewal.”
”Very good, but not original.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Fritz said. Then with a big grin, the sort of grin that showed he knew what grinning was all about, he asked, “Do you believe in destiny?”
“You can do better than that.”
There was something in his tone, something, that something, something that couldn’t have meant anything else. They both knew what each other meant when he cooed and gave her something that she would never forget. He gave her a promise that he promised that he’d never break. He promised to keep her safe. “Yes, my sweet Juliette, safe.” And that was more important to her than what followed.
“You’re forgetting that I’m a Jew.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“It’s my choice.”
“And…
“Shish!”
She laughed.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“And from a primal spring and with dirty hands…”
“So you want me to wash my hands?”
“No. But I’m afraid.”
“What is there to be afraid of?”
“You could fall in love with me.”
“I’ll chance it.”
Then, as the celebrated Lulu, or a primitive woman she touched him. He played along. But then the thought of exposure began to haunt him. How inconvenient.
He went through the motions of passion anyway, as he kissed her lips and tried to make peace with himself. “Away with the shame that has governed our behavior for almost two thousand years…” such thoughts crept in and made him think about strangling her.
He unlaced her bodice and looked into her eyes expecting a reaction. Suddenly the pressure was on. The power she had over him gave her great satisfaction.
“Well, sir.”
“Well.”
Then what got in the way? Morality, virtue, syphilis! Syphilis paralyzed, rose to the brain, led to blindness, dried up natural juices and calcified arteries. And what could’ve been worse? Race defilement!
Forget about that. Instead, nibble her sweet neck.
Race defilement!
Pshaw!
“Nothing is sadder than limits placed on sex by Christianity. But that’s not a problem for Jewish women.”
Fritz then screamed, “Get away from me!”
Did she go away? No.
He should’ve made it clear that he still loved Pauline. Made everything clear, but most of all made it clear that he didn’t want her to talk.
It had already begun to unravel. The flat was a wreck. But what did he expect? The home was in disarray. His papers scattered all over the floor. The wine stained carpet. And, and…. As for race defilement? Shish! Leave the door ajar, less suspicious that way. If only they could breathe. Race defilement. Shish! It wasn’t right. So! Ha! So she was a Jew. What would happen to his career if the word got out? Shish! It would touch him, touch his family. Life might not be so happy. Shish! What would happen if it ended up in print? Shish! All of this went on internally with Fritz, as she kissed him back. Despair, scorn, self-pity, treacheries, sins. Oh, well, since it was too late, he let her kiss him.
Surely, Pauline suspected. Suspicion and respect were two words she thought of when she thought of her husband. More questions than answers. Only time would tell.
Fritz had won the respect of his peers. Respected. Stern. Frightening sometimes. Yes, there were many sides to him. Rigid, precise, and even pedantic.
A chance to attack her character, a chance to resurrect his. Contagion. Watch out. Careful. He went to see La Ronde at the Burgtheater, something from Herr Doctor. Something to be aware of. What was the meaning of the black rose, Herr Doctor? Syphilis! Between desire and syphilis. Between Jews and syphilis. How could he ever be sure? How could he ever be safe? He’d never know until it was too late. Yes, their relationship had its dangers, and he knew it.
It got to him. He’d rather have her not think. To have women think. Damn distracting! Get with it. Do this. Do that. He preferred his women to be obedient, subservient; but here was a different kind of woman. Not a bitch. Not a whore! And just as much as he loved perversion, she did too. What could be more perverted than… with a Jew? He could never admit to… with a Jew.
But if he could, instead of eating himself up over it, he wished he could undo it all.
Randy Ford
