Anonymous - Confessions of an Author

How I succeeded in getting home that day still is not clear to me. I walked as if in a dream. Mama had gone to the theater, so that I had the good fortune of not having to find an excuse for my being so late. Even though it was only eight o'clock, I went directly to bed after I had drunk a few little glasses of liqueur. I fell asleep immediately and did not wake up till that next morning because someone was knocking loudly on my door.

One look in the mirror made me realize that it would be much better for me if Mama did not get to see me that morning. The gray shadow under my eyes reached all the way to my cheeks, and the color of my skin was sallow and yellowish. I rubbed my face with my hands in an attempt to create some color. While washing up I saw my naked torso in the mirror, which in turn made me think of Rita again and a wild desire to be with her that instant overcame me. I wanted to see her exactly the same way when I awakened from my fainting spell, and without seeing if Mama had already awakened and without touching my breakfast I walked out of the house.

To Rita's.

Her chambermaid opened the door for me and looked at me in utter surprise. Then she told me that Madame Rita was still asleep. Finally I pushed the girl aside and forced my way into the house. The door to Rita's bedroom was locked. I ran against it. The next moment Rita opened the door. And before she had had a chance to recuperate from her surprise to see me at this unusual hour, I pushed her ahead of me and stood in her bedroom. The next moment, however, I backed up against the door in utter confusion and surprise. There, in the bed, right in front of me, sat a young man … mother-naked! He glanced shyly in my direction. Rita did not lose her composure for one single moment. She threw off her silken gown, which was the only piece of clothing she wore, stretched out her arms while walking toward me and said, “How sweet of you to come and see me! I hope you do feel a lot better again!” I could not utter a single word and did not even try to ward off Rita when she pulled me toward her and put her head against my shoulder, purring modestly, “There was no other way, I simply could not stand the thought of being alone.”

And she started to unbutton my vest. But at that moment the naked man in bed cried out, “You filthy whore!”

I automatically moved toward him but Rita held me back. “Oh, why can't you be sensible,” she whispered to me, and to the other one, “Only the nights are for you. Who could guess that this dumb boy would show up this early?”

She walked over to the bed and smilingly bent over to the young man, kissing him. “You have so much more staying power,” she gurgled lustily. And before I had had time to comprehend what was going on, I saw how the young man pulled Rita toward him and proceeded to throw himself upon her. I heard their passionate groaning, which I knew so well from her, and I saw how she held on to this man's nude body, writhing wildly and enjoying his debaucheries tremendously.

I have never before or since felt as lonely as during those few moments. I left the room and closed the door behind me. Away from there was all I wanted. But then I sank into the closest chair and started to sob. How long I sat there I cannot remember. For a long time I heard the groaning in the other room, then it became silent. The exhaustion after the storm. That, too, I knew so well. I began to think. I now remember quite clearly that I was contemplating returning to that bedroom and strangling Rita. As a first thought, that seemed to me the most natural thing to do. Then it occurred to me that the man on the bed first had called her dirty names and secondly had almost immediately thereupon taken possession of her. I thought about this contradiction for such a long time that I sobered up completely. I sat down at Rita's white writing desk and started to compose a long letter to her which I know now must have been a very stupid one and it most likely made no impression upon her whatsoever. But my pride forced me to do it and I accused her of sharing the most beautiful, most sacred thing I had ever possessed with somebody she had just picked up from the street. I also told her in that letter that she was the one who lost because I had always been the giver whereas she was never anything else but the taker. I was very satisfied with myself when I had finished the letter … and I left. Her maid, who was waiting for me to leave, took my hand and said, “Don't take it too hard, dear young sir, it is impossible to be jealous when you are one of Madame Rita's visitors. Look, I am not jealous, either. Isn't this the sweetest?” And she pressed my hand against her breasts, looking up at me longingly. But I pushed her away from me and ran out of the house.

Of course, it had become too late to go to school. I aimlessly wandered into the city with the intention of considering my recent ordeal from every possible angle. But I never got around to doing that because suddenly I felt as if Rita was a person about whom I had never cared at all. I was totally incapable of even disliking her for what she had done to me. But I could not rid myself of a certain curiosity: I would have given years of my life to know who the young man was that was visiting Rita this morning?

No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember his face. All I could recall was his strong body and his white skin. And I had to admit to myself that the sight of those two was no longer as horrible. As a matter of fact I could not even find it shameless. I almost envied them because of their courage. They did not care about me; they wanted to do what they felt like doing at that particular moment and … they did it! Meanwhile I had dozed off while sitting on a bench in the park. I suddenly woke up with a start … it was past noon! I was terribly hungry and I went home. Mama looked at me with a worried expression. At first she did not say a thing, but after I had eaten she hesitantly offered the following opinion, “Is it possible that your piano playing at Rita's, after a strenuous day at school, is not a little bit too much for your strength?”

I could feel the blood rush to my head and I needed a moment before I could answer Mama. “I will not visit Rita any longer,” I said. I would have loved to say more to Mama, I mean I could have confided in her completely. But I did not speak and Mama never mentioned Rita again.

It is curious. I suddenly became a serious student at school and I worked hard. And not once did I have the slightest desire to see Rita again. About three or four weeks went by when I overheard one of the maids announce to Mama that Miss Rita was here to visit her. I said to Mama, “You cannot receive her!”

My expression may have betrayed me; Mama had herself excused. At that moment Rita had disappeared out of my life forever. I did hear a few years later that she had become a princess and had been introduced at the Imperial Court, but I never saw her again.

I have heard quite a lot about her, but that does not concern my life and it left me emotionally cold. But I did meet the one with whom I shared the servicing of Rita's eternal desire (though I am now no longer sure that he was the only one). I met him a few weeks afterward. One night while I was looking at the window display of one of the book stores, a young man walked up to me and started a conversation. I took him for a laborer till I saw his hands: they were clean, white and soft. At first I did not understand what he was talking about when he said, “Don't you know what happened to her? Her house is all locked up!”

He noticed that I did not know what it was all about and he started to laugh.

“I must admit that the last time we met, I was not wearing any clothes.”

Now I understood. He had awakened my curiosity, and I walked with him into a more quiet side street. He told me that Rita had kept him busy all morning of that day when I had surprised the two of them. She had asked him to stay on for several more days. He lived with her as if in paradise till he had become so worn out that he could no longer stay awake. She had let him go to regain his strength. And when he returned he had found out that the house was locked. The doorman told him that Miss Rita had left for a long journey and would not return within the foreseeable future.