32

Winter settled into Kosef J’s life like a hallucinogenic drug. It would be hard to say when and how he got to sleep with Rozette. As he’d wake up each morning, he’d continue entertaining the idea that days were simply lying ahead of him like a market stall from here he could take his pick. Yet, he’d always be confronted with a series of very precise duties, among them the one to sneak in to Rozette’s after bedtime.

She’d wait for him curled up in the dark. She’d normally leave one of the electric ovens on, and he’d find her there, in the vicinity of that pleasantly warm breeze. In fact, he’d let himself be guided by the unique odour that the working oven would dissipate in the kitchen. He’d get closer and sit next to her in silence, letting himself imbibed with warmth and the smell of burnt potatoes. She’d place her forehead on his shoulders. He’d caress her gently on the cheeks, with two of his fingers, and she’d tremble with pleasure. He’d then start caressing her with his palm. At times, she’d ask, ‘You’ve come?’ and he’d respond, ‘Yes, I have.’ Sometimes she’d ask, ‘Would you like a bite?’ and most of the time he’d say yes. In case he said yes, she’d feed him in the dark. He enjoyed being fed in the dark because this way the food could always take him by surprise. She’d feed him in a very peculiar way, as if she’d be caressing him. He loved being fed and caressed at the same time. At the end she’d ask, ‘OK?’ and he’d respond, ‘Yes, very much so.’ Then she’d ask, ‘Would you like some more?’ and he’d say no. She’d stay glued to him and say, ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ and he’d say yes. He’d usually get sleepy after the meal, his entire body overcome by drowsiness, due to the heat and the dark. So he’d try to move things along a little faster. She’d enjoy being touched on her thigh, so he’d caress her thigh. In case she wanted to be caressed on the shoulders or neck or breasts she’d take his hand and place it on her shoulders or neck or breasts. He’d then take his time caressing her on the shoulders, neck or breasts. After a while she’d say, ‘Let’s,’ and he’d undress her in no time. She’d lie on her back and hold on to the side of the electric oven with both hands. He’d be thrilled to be finally able to get started. She’d tremble at each and every touch and would break out in gushing sweat. Her body would be gradually covered in a very slippery film of sweat. She’d moan in panting desperation, and he’d be pleased because her panting acted as a clear indication that everything was going as it should. Her sweat would trickle across his skin, too. He could feel his shirt soaking with sweat, even his skin getting imbibed with her sweat. She’d climax in an extreme, almost suffocating orgasm and nearly lose consciousness. After each orgasm she’d remain in a state of prostration for up to an hour. All this time, he’d caress her gently, nearly falling asleep himself. This was the moment when those twenty men would sneak into the kitchen.

He’d never set eyes on them. He could have counted their shadows but never bothered. He could only hear them scraping off the food stuck to the inner walls of the cauldrons with their spoons and knives. No one would ever say a word. The men would eat in great haste, exercising self-control despite being famished. The unwashed plates would be passed on from hand to hand. Whenever Rozette would let out a moan, Kosef J would reassure her gently, ‘Sleep, do sleep.’

The men would leave just as quietly as they had come. Kosef J would let out a sigh of relief once there was no more rustling or clanking noise to be heard in the kitchen. He’d feel overwhelmed by the sensation of duty fulfilled. He’d also stop caressing Rozette.

She’d soon wake up and fondly send him on his way, ‘Come on, off you go now.’ He’d plant a kiss on her forehead and stand up, then walk over to the dining hall to lie down there. He’d fall asleep at once.