The Prague Orgy by Philip Roth Read Free Book Online

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    “ Your sense of reality. ”
    “ But you must not love me for my sense of reality, you must love me for myself. Tell me all the reasons you love me. ”
    “ At breakfast. ”
    “ No. Now. I cannot marry a man who I have only just met ” —she is scribbling on a piece of paper as she speaks— ” and risk my happiness by making the wrong choice. I must be sure. I owe it to myself. And to my aged parents. ”
    She hands me the note and I read it. You cannot trust Czech police to understand ANYTHING, even in Czech. You must speak CLEAR and SLOW and LOUD.
    “ I love your wit, ” I say.
    “ My beauty? ”
    “ I love your beauty. ”
    “ My f l esh? ”
    “ I love your flesh. ”
    “ You love when we make love? ”
    “ Indescribably. ”
    Olga points to the chandelier. “ What means ‘ indescribably, ’ darling? ”
    “ More than words can say. ”
    “ It is much better fucking than with the American girls. ”
    “ It ’ s the best. ”
    In the hotel elevator, as we ride down along with the uniformed operator (another police agent, according to Bolotka) and three Japanese early-risers, Olga asks, “ Do you fuck anybody yet in Czechoslovakia? ”
    “ No, Olga. I haven ’ t. Though a few people in Czechoslovakia may yet fuck me. ”
    “ How much is a room at this hotel? ”
    “ I don ’ t know. ”
    “ Of course. You ’ re so rich you don ’ t have to know. Do you know whv thev bug these big hotels, and always above the bed? ”
    “ Why? ”
    “ They listen in the rooms to the foreigners fucking. They want to hear how the women are coming in the different languages. Zuckerman, how are they coming in America? Teach me which words the American girls say. ”
    In the lobby, the front-desk clerk moves out from behind the reception counter and crosses the lobby to meet us. Politely excusing himself to me, he addresses Olga in Czech.
    “ Speak English! ” she demands. “ I want him to understand! I want him to hear this insult in English! ”
    A stocky gray-haired man with formal manners and a heavy unsmiling face, the clerk is oblivious to her rage; he continues unemotionally in Czech.
    “ What is it? ” I ask her.
    “ Tell him! ” she shouts at the clerk. “ Tell him what you want! ”
    “ Sir, the lady must show her identity card. It is a regulation. ”
    “ Why is it a regulation? ” she demands. “ Tell him! ”
    “ Foreign guests must register with a passport. Czech citizens must show an identity card if they go up to the rooms to make a call. ”
    “ Except if the Czech is a prostitute! Then she does not have to show anything but money! Here—I am a prostitute. Here is your fifty kroner—leave us in peace! ”
    He turns away from the money she is sticking into his face,
    To me Olga explains, “ I am sorry, Mister, I should have told you. Whipping a woman is against the law in a civilized country, even if she is being paid to be beat en. But everything is all right if you pay off the scum. Here, ” she cries, turning again to the clerk, “ here is a hundred! I do not mean to insult you! Here is a hundred and fifty! ”
    “ 1 need an identity card for Madame, please. ”
    “ You know who I am, ” she snarls, “ everybody in this country knows who I am. ”
    “ I must record the number in my ledger, Madame. ”
    “ Tel! me, please, why do you embarrass me like this in front of tny prospective husband? Why do you try to make me ashamed of my nationality in front of the man I love? Look at him! Look at how he dresses! Look at his coat with a velvet collar! On his trousers he has buttons and not a little zipper like you! Why do you try to give such a man second thoughts about marrying a Czech woman? ”
    “ I wish only to see her identity card, sir. I will return it immediately. ”
    “ Olga, ” I say softly, “ enough. ”
    “ Do you see? ” she shouts at the clerk. “ Now he is disgusted. And do you know why? Because he is thinking. Where are their fine old European