Peter Pišťanek - The End of Freddy

Zongora sat and watched it all very closely. But he never gave in to despair. He knew that when he came before the committee and showed them his well-trained body crowned by his proud thirteen inches he would not be rejected. Watching semi-naked men and women being humiliated gave him an obscure pleasure and kept his heart beat at the right speed. Moreover, he liked these cruel professionals and couldn’t wait to become one of them. He knew he’d been one of them from birth. Besides, he was excited at the thought of showing himself naked to Siedah Strong and two other porn actresses on the committee.

Therefore, when his turn came and he achieved a steely erection in front of everyone, his eyes bore into Siedah Strong’s. He sensed rather than saw the jaws of all the committee members dropping.

Nor could Siedah keep her eyes off his thirteen-inch club with its bright red polished head slowly dripping clear liquid, the so-called drop of desire, provoked by looking at the naked girls who silently obeyed every humiliating order from the committee chairman.

“Well,” said Freddy, looking at the committee members. “Have any of you ever seen anything like that?”

His answer was a mass shaking of heads.

“Fine, we’ll look at you in action,” said Freddy. “Where’s the black girl? The…” he consulted his papers, “Jana Tokárová? Is she here?”

A beautiful mulatto raised her hand.

“Well, I’m curious to see you do it,” said Freddy, slobbering with lechery. “You both know what to do, right? Right, camera, please!”

When Zongora saw her, his member grew at least another inch. Out of impatience, not gallantry, he helped Tokárová remove her clothes,

“First, show us some foreplay,” Freddy ordered.

“Excellent, that’s very good. And now penetration.”

Bewildered, Zongora stayed kneeling over Tokárová. The mulatto radiated heat and the fragrance of some exotic perfume.

“What do I have to do?” asked Zongora.

“Put it in her,” said Freddy.

“Oh God,” whispered Tokárová, yielding as she looked at Zongora’s member. “But, for God’s sake, slowly and carefully!”

Zongora entered her some of the way and began to move.

“Jesus and Mary,” said Tokárová.

Zongora felt an insistent itch round his tailbone. He was about to come.

“Are you taking anything?” he asked the mulatto.

“Like what?” Tokárová did not understand.

“Contraception,” said Zongora.

“Yes, of course,” said Tokárová. “But you needn’t come inside me, if you don’t have to…”

She had barely spoken when Zongora pulled out of her and in a mighty hot spray spattered her, the bed, the carpet, the camera, and even the inquisitive cameraman.

The committee members looked disappointed.

“Ah!” yelled Freddy in despair, with the expression of a football fan whose favourite player has blown a clear chance, and clasped his hands.

However, Zongora was smiling. He had another trump card up his sleeve. He used his hand to squeeze the last drops out onto Tokárová’s brown belly and then he again inserted his pulsating member into his shocked partner. His astounding erection was not diminished at all.

“Good, that’ll do,” Freddy spoke up, as Zongora noticed Tokárová’s breathing getting faster and deeper and her muscles beginning to contract rhythmically. So he did not stop, but kept moving inside her until he felt the pressure down there relax and Tokárová collapse helplessly onto the bed. Her spread-out long brown arms and legs kept twitching in spasms. Then he felt he was starting to come again: he sprayed her a second time.

“Excellent,” shouted Freddy, when the two of them had recovered and begun to towel themselves and then dress. “Excellent. Welcome to the Freddy Vision team! You’re hired. The rest of you can go home. We’ll have a look at the films and let you know!”

Zongora got dressed. He looked at Tokárová. She was really pretty.

“How did you get this beautiful skin?” Freddy asked the mulatto. “Are you of gyp… I mean, Roma background?”

“My father came from Gabon,” said Tokárová. “He came to study medicine here and…”

“Jana Tokárová,” Siedah Strong interrupted, and for the first time Zongora heard her real voice, not that of the Czech actress who dubbed her. “That name’s no good. You’ve got to have a name with an international ring to it. From now on, you’ll be Naomi Africa. Naomi. That’s what you look like.”

“And what about this little bird?” Freddy asked, pointing at Zongora.

Sida shifted the gaze of her painted eyes to Zongora.

“Zongora sounds stupid, too,” she said. “From now on, you’ll be Luigi Longo. That’s more to the point.”

“Yes,” said Zongora. He liked this name.

“I only hope the premature cum shot was caused by stage fright,” said Freddy, “and under normal circumstances, you’ll last longer.”

“Yes, certainly,” said Zongora.

“But since you don’t lose your erection even after ejaculating,” Sida joined in, “we’ll overlook it. Not many men have a talent like yours. Some men start to droop even before they come.” She gave Freddy a defiant look; he averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Starring Naomi Africa and Luigi Longo,” he recited, outlining with hand gestures the lead titles on the screen. “I’ll make stars out of you and I’ll get you to Cannes for the porn Oscars.”

* * *

Disguised as ordinary merchant sailors, on false civilian passports, the submariners arrive in Gdansk under the command of the newly promoted Commander Kubeš. The passports were not really forged: the proper authorities had issued them. Only the names and dates were untrue.

They don’t stay long in Gdansk. They board a smaller merchant ship flying a Polish flag and sail off.

Kubeš, with a few sailors in his crew, stands on the bows. Others are on the lower deck, sleeping off a hangover they got on the express train. Kubeš breathes in the air and smells the fresh sea breeze. When he licks his lips, he can taste salt. He can’t take his eyes off the sea’s choppy surface. His nostrils flare in sweet awareness, “At sea! At sea, finally!”

“Well, gentlemen,” says Kubeš to his men. “Finally back at sea. I don’t know about you, but nine months ago, I never dreamt of such a thing.”

“Nor did I, captain sir,” says Petty Officer Zrno, a cook. “I thought we were stuck on dry land for good. But you know what I like most?”

“What, Zrno?” Kubeš asks, not commenting that the cheerful cook has decided to promote him a rank.

“Well, I’m pleased we’re getting an active service bonus from ten minutes ago, sir,” says Zrno.

They all laugh.

“What are you going to do with all that money?” asks Kubeš.

“I’ll have to think of something, sir,” says Zrno. “Maybe after the ten years I’ve signed up for, I’ll go into business with my brother. We’ll open a small tavern, or a restaurant, something like that.”

Kubeš turns back to gazing at the sea. To hell with Mayor Pfitzner and its panorama of Prague Castle, he thinks. Prague is beautiful, but the sea is even more so. He’s finally in his element. He got his chance and will use it to the full. He’ll conscientiously do his duty by the man who gave it to him.

Sailing from Gdansk to Riga takes two days. When they drop anchor, a representative of the Czech navy is already waiting for them. Without delay they board a bus with their bags and are taken out of the city to an industrial zone where the private docks discreetly leased by the Czech navy are located. They pass through multiple security checks and then enter the secret area. There, on the mole, is anchored a huge light-grey vessel, so intimately familiar to the crew members. It rocks gently on the waves. The conning tower has no number, name, or registration.