Eleven Minutes

When I had nothing to lose, I had everything. When I stopped being who I am, I found myself.

When I experienced humiliation and total submission, I was free. I don't know if I'm ill, if it was all a dream, or if it only happens once. I know that I can perfectly well live without it, but I would like to do it again, to repeat the experience, to go still further.

I was a bit frightened by the pain, but it wasn't as bad as the humiliation, and it was just a pretext. When I had my first orgasm in many months, despite all the many men I've been with and the many different things they've done with my body, I felt--is this possible?--closer to God. I remembered what he said about how the flagellants, in offering up their pain for the salvation of humanity, found pleasure. I didn't want to save humanity, or him or me; I was just there.

The art of sex is the art of controlled abandon.

It wasn't theater this time, they were in a real train station, at Maria's request, because she liked the pizza you could buy there. There was nothing wrong with being a bit wayward sometimes. Ralf ought to have come to see her the day before, when she was still a woman in search of love, an open fire, wine and desire. But life had chosen otherwise, and today she had got through the whole day without once having to make herself concentrate on the sounds around her or on the present moment, simply because she hadn't thought about Ralf; she had discovered other more interesting things to think about.

What was she to do with this man beside her, who was eating a pizza he probably didn't like and who was just passing the time until the moment came for them to go to his house? When he had come into the club and offered her a drink, she had thought of telling him that she wasn't interested anymore and that he should find someone else; on the other hand, she had an enormous need to talk to someone about the previous night.

She had tried talking to one or two of the other prostitutes who served the "special clients," but none of them would tell her anything, because Maria was bright, she learned quickly and had become the great threat in the Copacabana. Of all the men she knew, Ralf Hart was the only one who would understand, because Milan considered him too to be a "special client." But he looked at her with eyes alight with love, and that made things difficult; it was best to say nothing.

"What do you know about pain, suffering and pleasure?"

She had once again failed to keep her thoughts to herself.

Ralf stopped eating his pizza.

"Everything. And it doesn't interest me in the least."

The reply had been instant, and Maria was shocked. Was she the only person in the world who didn't know everything? What kind of world was this?

"I've confronted my demons and my dark side," Ralf went on. "I've been to the very depths and tried everything, not just in that area, but in many others too. On the last night we met, however, I went beyond my limits through desire, not pain. I plunged into the depths of my soul and I know that I still want good things, many good things from this life."

He wanted to say: "One of those good things is you, so, please, don't go down that path." But he didn't have the courage; instead, he called a taxi and asked the driver to take them to the lake shore, where, an eternity before, they had walked together on the day they first met. Maria understood the request and said nothing; her instinct told her that she had a lot to lose, although her mind was still drunk on what had happened the night before.

She only awoke from her passive state when they reached the gardens beside the lake; although it was still summer, it was already starting to get very cold at night.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, as they got out of the taxi. "It's windy. I might catch a cold."

"I've been thinking about what you said at the train station, about suffering and pleasure. Take your shoes off."

She remembered that once, one of her clients had asked the same thing, and had been aroused simply by looking at her feet. Would Adventure never leave her in peace?

"I'll catch a cold."

"Do as I say," he insisted. "You won't catch a cold if we're quick. Believe in me, as I believe in you."

For some reason, Maria realized that he was trying to help her; perhaps because he himself had once drunk of some very bitter water and was afraid that she was running the same risk. She didn't want to be helped; she was happy with her new world, in which she was learning that suffering wasn't a problem anymore. Then she thought of Brazil, of the impossibility of finding a partner with whom to share that different universe, and since Brazil was the most important thing in her life, she took off her shoes. The ground was covered in small stones that immediately tore her stockings, but that didn't matter, she could buy some more.

"Take off your jacket."

She could have said "no," but, since last night, she had got used to the joy of saying "yes" to everything that came her way. She took off her jacket, and her body, still warm, took a while to react, then gradually the cold began to get to her.

"We can talk and walk at the same time."

"I can't walk here, the ground's covered in stones."

"Exactly. I want you to feel these stones, I want them to hurt you and bruise you, because, just as I did, you have started to associate suffering with pleasure, and I need to tear that out of your soul."

Maria felt like saying: "There's no need, I like it." Instead, she began walking slowly along, and the soles of her feet began to burn with the cold and the sharp edges of the stones.

"One of my exhibitions took me to Japan, just when I was immersed in what you called 'pain, suffering and pleasure.' At the time, I thought there was no way back, that I would go deeper and deeper down, until there was nothing left in my life but the desire to punish and be punished.

"After all, we are human beings, we are born full of guilt; we feel terrified when happiness becomes a real possibility; and we die wanting to punish everyone else because we feel impotent, ill-used and unhappy. To pay for one's sins and be able to punish the sinners, wouldn't that be delicious? Oh, yes, wonderful."

Maria was still walking, the pain and the cold were making it hard for her to concentrate on what he was saying, but she was doing her best.