There
is an indisputable charm to that naive enthusiasm ache1 brings to
bear upon the first of each month, when the new schedule for that month’s
upcoming films on the hotel’s pornography channel is revealed: six new films in
total, played out on a repeating rota of two per night. Once she has
familiarised herself with their content, she will often prefer to watch them in
their encrypted form, static ghosting the sex to limited visibility in the
screen’s glimmer. Even throughout her pregnancy, her joy at this ritual will
continue undiminished.
Returning
to the room today she makes no effort at all to conceal her excitement,
grabbing up the new card from off the table beneath the wall-mounted television
even before she has removed her coat,
ache1:
There is nothing quite so delightful, Monsieur Skunk, as the prospect of fresh
“adult entertainment”.
and
studying its content.
Brother
Skunk throws his hat and gloves past her onto the bed, props his new walking
stick behind the door, and begins to unlace his boots. It occurs to him that
perhaps the only reason they have been out walking at all was to allow
housekeeping time enough to switch the schedule cards.
ache1:
So, can I book you a front row seat for “Three for Fun”?
utterly
failing in her attempt to invest the speaking of each title with any degree of
erotic allure.
Skunk
(shaking his head less in the negative than bewilderment): No.
ache1:
Well what about “Ring of Desire”?
Skunk:
No.
ache1:
Surely you’re tempted by the sound of “Table Manners”?
Skunk:
No.
ache1:
Who could fail to be aroused by “The Budding of Brie”?
Skunk:
Me.
ache1:
“Dental Nurse”?
Skunk:
No.
ache1:
Best for last, I believe, think you’ll be able to wait for “Delicious”?
Skunk:
Almost certainly.
rising
now to busy himself with what remained of last night’s Jack Daniel’s.
His
relationship with this material is more complicated than he might readily
confess, such dismissal and disdain all surface, beneath which the intense
push-pull between arousal and disgust will remain suppressed, never altogether
comfortable unmasked nor allowing breath in company at least the actual sleaze
of himself. He cannot know that in the unforeseen yet oncoming empty years he
will be haunted by, come sometime to rely upon, his memory of these images,
even those perceived through the television’s static gauze.
Distracted
by sudden volume issuing from the television, Skunk looks up to see ache1 silhouetted
against the window, her outline still confounding the extent of her pregnancy,
as she mashes at the programme button of the remote control until arriving at
channel 16, the screen’s blue holding card informing her of that hour at which
her entertainment will begin.
ache1
(again studying the card): I do believe I shall sit exactly here until
“Three for Fun” begins at 11 pm.
Skunk
(raising one of the newly-filled shotglasses): Happy New Year.
