Eleven Minutes

If a person wants to take drugs, in the form of sex or whatever, that's their problem; the consequences of their actions will be better or worse depending on the choices they make. But if we are talking in terms of making progress in life, we must understand that "good enough" is very different from "best."

Contrary to what my clients think, sex cannot be practiced at any time. We all have a clock inside us, and in order to make love, the hands on both clocks have to be pointing to the same hour at the same time. That doesn't happen every day. If you love another person, you don't depend on the sex act in order to feel good. Two people who live together and love each other need to adjust the hands of their clocks, with patience and perseverance, games and "theatrical representations," until they realize that making love is more than just an encounter, it is a genital "embrace."

Everything is important. If you live your life intensely, you experience pleasure all the time and don't feel the need for sex. When you have sex, it's out of a sense of abundance, because the glass of wine is so full that it overflows naturally, because it is inevitable, because you are responding to the call of life, because at that moment, and only at that moment, you have allowed yourself to lose control.

P.S. I have just re-read what I wrote. Good grief! I'm getting way too intellectual!

Shortly after writing this, and when she was preparing for another night as Understanding Mother or Innocent Girl, the door of the Copacabana opened and in walked Terence, the record company executive, one of the special clients.

Behind the bar, Milan seemed pleased: Maria had not disappointed him. Maria remembered the words that simultaneously said so much and so little: "pain, suffering, and a great deal of pleasure."

"I flew in from London especially to see you. I've been thinking about you a lot."

She smiled, trying not to look too encouraging. Again he had failed to follow the ritual and hadn't

asked if she wanted a drink, but just sat down at her table.

"When a teacher helps someone to discover something, the teacher always learns something new too."

"I know what you mean," said Maria, thinking of Ralf Hart and feeling irritated with herself for doing so. She was with another client, and she must respect him and do what she could to please him.

"Do you want to go ahead?"

A thousand francs. A hidden universe. Her boss watching her. The certainty that she could stop whenever she chose. The date set for her return to Brazil. The other man, who never came to see her.

"Are you in a hurry?" Maria asked.

He said no. What was it she wanted?

"I'd like my usual drink and my usual dance, and some respect for my profession."

He hesitated for a moment, but it was all part of the theater, dominating and being dominated. He bought her a drink and danced with her, then ordered a taxi and gave her the money while they drove across the city to the same hotel. They went in, he greeted the Italian porter just as he had on the night they first met, and they went up to the same suite with a view over the river.

Terence got up and took out his lighter, and only then did Maria notice that there were dozens of candles arranged around the room. He started lighting them.

"What would you like to know? Why I'm like this? Because, unless I'm very much mistaken, you really enjoyed the other evening we spent together. Do you want to know why you're like this too?"

"I was just thinking that in Brazil we have a superstition that you should never light more than three things with the same match. You're not respecting that superstition."

He ignored her remark.

"You're like me. You're not here for the thousand francs, but out of a sense of guilt and dependency, because of your various complexes and insecurities. That is neither good nor bad, it's simply human nature."

He picked up the remote control and changed channels several times until he found the TV news and a report on refugees trying to escape a war.

"Do you see that? Have you ever seen those programs in which people discuss their personal problems in front of everyone? Have you been to a newspaper kiosk and seen the headlines? The world enjoys suffering and pain. There's sadism in the way we look at these things, and masochism in our conclusion that we don't need to know all this in order to be happy, and yet we watch other people's tragedies and sometimes suffer along with them."

He poured out two glasses of champagne, turned off the television and continued lighting candles, in contravention of the superstition Maria had mentioned.

"As I say, it's the human condition. Ever since we were expelled from paradise, we have either been suffering, making other people suffer or watching the suffering of others. It's beyond our control."

From outside came the sound of thunder and lightning; a huge storm was approaching.

"But I can't do it," Maria said. "It seems ridiculous to me pretending that you're my master and I'm your slave. We don't need 'theater' to find suffering; life offers us more than enough opportunities."

Terence had just finished lighting the candles. He picked one up and placed it in the middle of the table, then served more champagne, and caviar. Maria was drinking quickly, thinking about the one thousand francs in her bag, about this stranger who both fascinated and frightened her, and about how she could control her fear. She knew that, with this man, no night would ever be the same as another; she could not intimidate him in any way.

"Sit down."