"Who is it?" A languorous purr from behind the massive wooden door. Still panting from climbing six flights of stairs in this East Berlin apartment building, I gasped out my name. The door opened wide and I fell into Lulu's bare arms. "Darling! It is you! I thought it had to be some horrible sex-maniac at this time of the morning. I felt this wonderful frisson of excitement..." Lulu murmured delightedly, her little teeth affectionately nibbling my earlobe. "Come in, sweetie. You must be freezing. Do you want coffee or hot chocolate or brandy or all three?" Chattering away vivaciously, Lulu led me by the hand into her apartment. I leaned against a wall and looked on while Lulu glid around the dark kitchen, deftly pulling out a bottle of milk dangling from a string outside her window, pouring milk into a battered saucepan, lighting an ancient stove with a match, rinsing out two chipped mugs, pouring serious slugs of brandy into them, lighting two cigarettes and handing one to me with a smile which changed instantly to a look of concern when she saw my battered face. "What happened?" Lulu shrieked. "Have you been getting into fights, you bad little boy?"
"It's a long story, Lu. Do you happen to have any chairs in this apartment?"
"Well, there used to be a lot of chairs when I moved in," Lulu said, smiling wickedly. "But Michel managed to destroy most of them, just by sitting in them. Well, all right, he also threw one or two at me. I'll probably have to replace them all when I leave."
"Michel?"
"Oh, he's this rugby player who came up to me in a bar and told me that he had this terribly important match the next day and that he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to concentrate because he would be standing around on the pitch dreaming of me and so would I please sleep with him?"
"And so you did. Strumpet." I took a sip of my brandy-laced hot chocolate, sighed with contentment, and slumped onto the floor. "I hope they won."
"Oh, don't sit on the floor, love, it's so dirty. I'm sure there are cockroaches and mice all over the place." Lulu shuddered. "I haven't cleaned the place since I came. I'm such a slut." She led me out of the kitchen. "Come in here where it's comfortable." We walked into a small room which was all bed. The yellow flicker of a candle on a low corner table dimly illuminated the edge of the tapestries that billowed all around the mattresses and cushions and blankets and rugs on the floor. Lulu plumped cushions all around me and wrapped me in a comforter. "Isn't that better, honey?" she murmured, snuggling up to me.
"It's wonderful, Lulu," I said sincerely. I sniffed her fragrant hair, sighed fervently, and closed my eyes. "Where's Michel?"
"Oh, I didn't feel like getting involved with him."
"Because he threw chairs at you?"
"Oh, that was fun. But, no..." Lulu sighed. She snuggled up closer to me. "You know, dearest, a time comes in the life of every woman when she needs to get serious. When she has to ruthlessly eliminate all distractions, all frivolities. I feel like I have to get down to business."
"You're pregnant," I said, appalled. "What are you going to do, Lulu?"
Lulu sat up indignantly. "Of course I'm not pregnant!" she exclaimed. "Do I look like an idiot? No woman with a brain in her head has babies if she can help it."
"But everyone talks about this biological urge. Like a time bomb or something."
"Male propaganda," Lulu explained succinctly. "For centuries men have been telling us how much we really want to have babies. As though any rational creature would want to go through the harrowing sufferings of childbirth," she sniffed. "Would you want to put your foot on a landmine?" She glared at me.
"Lulu, I'm on your side," I said, trying to appease her. "I have never understood why people keep having babies. Why do they do it?"
Lulu smiled at me and put her head back in my lap. I stroked her smooth forehead. "Because they're stupid," she said. "And bored. They want a new toy. It's so important to stop little girls from playing with dolls."
"So what are you planning to do with your life now, Lu?"
"I'm going to eliminate sex."
"From the entire planet?"
"I would if I could, angel, but I'm going to start with my life. Oh, sex is fun sometimes but is it really worth it?" I could feel Lulu's warm breath high on my thigh. I squirmed and drank down my hot chocolate.
"So what are you going to do instead?"
"I'm going to work hard."
"No, Lulu," I responded crossly. "Now that really is stupid. Take drugs or something if you're so bored with sex. Climb mountains. Jump off bridges. Go jogging. I'm disappointed in you. I never thought you would say something so banal and trite and Puritan as that."
"But really," Lulu insisted, turning to look up at me. "Wouldn't it be fun to be Professor Louisa Frazer, forty something, hair pulled up in a severe bun and tortoise shell glasses and an intimidating academic reputation, rather than being Lulu, the cute flirt?"
"Professor Frazer is such a predictable persona, Lu. You'll turn into her anyway. Can't you just be both academic and flirt in the meantime?"
"It confuses men," Lulu sighed. "Especially big strong brainless men. The kind I like."
"You win some, you confuse some. Aren't you too young for a midlife crisis?"
"No. I had one last month. I almost got married."
"Anyone I know?"
"No. His name is Nectarino. He's Italian. I met him at a party given by Princess Fi."
"Is he big and strong and brainless?"
"Totally." Lulu smiled beatifically. "Absolutely brain-dead. Doesn't speak a word. He just grunts. He's yummy."
"Sounds like a husband made in heaven. So what happened?"
"I panicked at the last moment and cancelled the wedding after the arrangements had all been made. His family was awfully angry. I thought they would hire a hitman to get me."
"What made you panic?"
"When we met the Pope," Lulu replied. "Nectarino insisted that we have an audience. It's an old family tradition. Apparently all the Nectarini do it before they get married."
"Does the Pope look fake?" I asked, interested. "I knew this girl in college whose name was Caroline Wojdyla. She claimed that the pope was her third cousin twice removed. One time she went to the Vatikan and met the old geezer, and she swore that he didn't look at all like in the family pictures. Caro was convinced that the real Pope, her cousin, had been a liberal who wanted to legalize abortion and birth control and women priests and the marriage of priests and that he had been secretly bumped off in an evil Vatikan conspiracy by all these reactionary Monsignors and Cardinals who had found some old Polish look-alike as a replacement. Of course, Caro was a pro-choice campaigner and a frightful liar, so I didn't know whether to believe her and I've never met the man myself. Did you think the Pope looked real?"
"Actually, he looked like a wax doll." Lulu giggled. "I wanted to pinch him but Nectarino wouldn't let me. Apparently bankers aren't allowed to pinch their clients."
"Nectarino is the Pope's banker?"
"Well, the Nectarini are. His family has been financing the Vatikan since the Middle Ages."
"So is Nectarino filthy rich?"
"Obviously, sugar." Lulu sniffed. "He wanted me to wear all this ugly jewellery. Dripping with diamonds."
"You could always sell the diamonds after your divorce," I offered. "Alimony is a feminist's best friend."
"It was dynastic stuff," Lulu replied. "Passed on down the generations. The Nectarini would definitely hire a hitman if I tried to sell their jewels. Besides, Nectarino doesn't understand the concept of divorce. Marriage is for life."
"Sounds like a prison sentence. Is that why you escaped to Berlin?"
"Yes. I had to get over this perverse feeling of wanting to imprison myself for the rest of my life with one person. It's so addictive, this craving for commitment." Lulu sighed. "Even now, I wish some big strong man would just ride up on his white horse and take me away..."
"Shame on you," I scolded. "You even wrote a book on Freud. You know what white horses stand for."
"The big strong man's mother," Lulu said dreamily. "Or is that cows? Sweetie, I'm so tired. Let's go to bed."
"Okay." I looked at my watch before I blew out the candle. Six in the morning. A hidden dawn turned the tapestries a luminous purple as Lulu and I fell fast asleep in a chaste embrace, seeking nothing more from each other's bodies than the pleasure of animal warmth. Simple sins are so often the best.
"It's a long story, Lu. Do you happen to have any chairs in this apartment?"
"Well, there used to be a lot of chairs when I moved in," Lulu said, smiling wickedly. "But Michel managed to destroy most of them, just by sitting in them. Well, all right, he also threw one or two at me. I'll probably have to replace them all when I leave."
"Michel?"
"Oh, he's this rugby player who came up to me in a bar and told me that he had this terribly important match the next day and that he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to concentrate because he would be standing around on the pitch dreaming of me and so would I please sleep with him?"
"And so you did. Strumpet." I took a sip of my brandy-laced hot chocolate, sighed with contentment, and slumped onto the floor. "I hope they won."
"Oh, don't sit on the floor, love, it's so dirty. I'm sure there are cockroaches and mice all over the place." Lulu shuddered. "I haven't cleaned the place since I came. I'm such a slut." She led me out of the kitchen. "Come in here where it's comfortable." We walked into a small room which was all bed. The yellow flicker of a candle on a low corner table dimly illuminated the edge of the tapestries that billowed all around the mattresses and cushions and blankets and rugs on the floor. Lulu plumped cushions all around me and wrapped me in a comforter. "Isn't that better, honey?" she murmured, snuggling up to me.
"It's wonderful, Lulu," I said sincerely. I sniffed her fragrant hair, sighed fervently, and closed my eyes. "Where's Michel?"
"Oh, I didn't feel like getting involved with him."
"Because he threw chairs at you?"
"Oh, that was fun. But, no..." Lulu sighed. She snuggled up closer to me. "You know, dearest, a time comes in the life of every woman when she needs to get serious. When she has to ruthlessly eliminate all distractions, all frivolities. I feel like I have to get down to business."
"You're pregnant," I said, appalled. "What are you going to do, Lulu?"
Lulu sat up indignantly. "Of course I'm not pregnant!" she exclaimed. "Do I look like an idiot? No woman with a brain in her head has babies if she can help it."
"But everyone talks about this biological urge. Like a time bomb or something."
"Male propaganda," Lulu explained succinctly. "For centuries men have been telling us how much we really want to have babies. As though any rational creature would want to go through the harrowing sufferings of childbirth," she sniffed. "Would you want to put your foot on a landmine?" She glared at me.
"Lulu, I'm on your side," I said, trying to appease her. "I have never understood why people keep having babies. Why do they do it?"
Lulu smiled at me and put her head back in my lap. I stroked her smooth forehead. "Because they're stupid," she said. "And bored. They want a new toy. It's so important to stop little girls from playing with dolls."
"So what are you planning to do with your life now, Lu?"
"I'm going to eliminate sex."
"From the entire planet?"
"I would if I could, angel, but I'm going to start with my life. Oh, sex is fun sometimes but is it really worth it?" I could feel Lulu's warm breath high on my thigh. I squirmed and drank down my hot chocolate.
"So what are you going to do instead?"
"I'm going to work hard."
"No, Lulu," I responded crossly. "Now that really is stupid. Take drugs or something if you're so bored with sex. Climb mountains. Jump off bridges. Go jogging. I'm disappointed in you. I never thought you would say something so banal and trite and Puritan as that."
"But really," Lulu insisted, turning to look up at me. "Wouldn't it be fun to be Professor Louisa Frazer, forty something, hair pulled up in a severe bun and tortoise shell glasses and an intimidating academic reputation, rather than being Lulu, the cute flirt?"
"Professor Frazer is such a predictable persona, Lu. You'll turn into her anyway. Can't you just be both academic and flirt in the meantime?"
"It confuses men," Lulu sighed. "Especially big strong brainless men. The kind I like."
"You win some, you confuse some. Aren't you too young for a midlife crisis?"
"No. I had one last month. I almost got married."
"Anyone I know?"
"No. His name is Nectarino. He's Italian. I met him at a party given by Princess Fi."
"Is he big and strong and brainless?"
"Totally." Lulu smiled beatifically. "Absolutely brain-dead. Doesn't speak a word. He just grunts. He's yummy."
"Sounds like a husband made in heaven. So what happened?"
"I panicked at the last moment and cancelled the wedding after the arrangements had all been made. His family was awfully angry. I thought they would hire a hitman to get me."
"What made you panic?"
"When we met the Pope," Lulu replied. "Nectarino insisted that we have an audience. It's an old family tradition. Apparently all the Nectarini do it before they get married."
"Does the Pope look fake?" I asked, interested. "I knew this girl in college whose name was Caroline Wojdyla. She claimed that the pope was her third cousin twice removed. One time she went to the Vatikan and met the old geezer, and she swore that he didn't look at all like in the family pictures. Caro was convinced that the real Pope, her cousin, had been a liberal who wanted to legalize abortion and birth control and women priests and the marriage of priests and that he had been secretly bumped off in an evil Vatikan conspiracy by all these reactionary Monsignors and Cardinals who had found some old Polish look-alike as a replacement. Of course, Caro was a pro-choice campaigner and a frightful liar, so I didn't know whether to believe her and I've never met the man myself. Did you think the Pope looked real?"
"Actually, he looked like a wax doll." Lulu giggled. "I wanted to pinch him but Nectarino wouldn't let me. Apparently bankers aren't allowed to pinch their clients."
"Nectarino is the Pope's banker?"
"Well, the Nectarini are. His family has been financing the Vatikan since the Middle Ages."
"So is Nectarino filthy rich?"
"Obviously, sugar." Lulu sniffed. "He wanted me to wear all this ugly jewellery. Dripping with diamonds."
"You could always sell the diamonds after your divorce," I offered. "Alimony is a feminist's best friend."
"It was dynastic stuff," Lulu replied. "Passed on down the generations. The Nectarini would definitely hire a hitman if I tried to sell their jewels. Besides, Nectarino doesn't understand the concept of divorce. Marriage is for life."
"Sounds like a prison sentence. Is that why you escaped to Berlin?"
"Yes. I had to get over this perverse feeling of wanting to imprison myself for the rest of my life with one person. It's so addictive, this craving for commitment." Lulu sighed. "Even now, I wish some big strong man would just ride up on his white horse and take me away..."
"Shame on you," I scolded. "You even wrote a book on Freud. You know what white horses stand for."
"The big strong man's mother," Lulu said dreamily. "Or is that cows? Sweetie, I'm so tired. Let's go to bed."
"Okay." I looked at my watch before I blew out the candle. Six in the morning. A hidden dawn turned the tapestries a luminous purple as Lulu and I fell fast asleep in a chaste embrace, seeking nothing more from each other's bodies than the pleasure of animal warmth. Simple sins are so often the best.
