LITMIR.BIZ

      PART TWO

      The action between the first and second acts can proceed without an intermission.

      GIRL. Perfect. Wait here for me. I’ll go get a glass of water, take a tranquilizer, and then we’ll be ready to go.

      HUSBAND. Just come right back, otherwise I’ll start thinking again.

      GIRL. And what then?

      HUSBAND. I’ll start having second thoughts and change my mind.

      GIRL. I forbid you to think. You understand? Follow my example.

      HUSBAND. I’ll try.

      GIRL. Sit here, don’t move, don’t do anything and don’t think. I’ll be right back, and we’ll begin a new life!

      The GIRL exits. The HUSBAND waits for her impatiently. The PROFESSOR enters.

      PROFESSOR. Let’s have sex.

      HUSBAND. Thanks, my pleasure.

      Pause.

      PROFESSOR. Well?

      HUSBAND. What?

      PROFESSOR. I’m waiting to see what will follow your "thanks".

      HUSBAND. I thought it was a greeting.

      PROFESSOR. No, it was a business offer. So?

      HUSBAND. I’m willing.

      PROFESSOR. Then we’ll get started.

      HUSBAND. (Looking around). I don’t see any women here.

      PROFESSOR. We can manage perfectly well without them.

      HUSBAND. Without women?!

      PROFESSOR. Certainly. There’s you, there’s me, so there is a couple. What else do we need?

      HUSBAND. I beg your pardon, but who are you?

      PROFESSOR. I am a world-famous professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A sexologist and sex pathologist. Treatment, consulting, lecturing. I get rid of complexes, inspire self-confidence, free people of their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. It’s very hard work. Lots of calls. I get very tired.

      HUSBAND. I’m not sure I understand exactly what you are offering concretely.

      PROFESSOR. To have sex. What could be more concretely?

      HUSBAND. Professor, with all due respect to you, to your wisdom, knowledge and age, to your gray hair and infinite understanding, you are no substitute for a woman to me.

      PROFESSOR. Tell me, are you an intelligent person?

      HUSBAND. I hope so.

      PROFESSOR. Very well. Tell me, what is the most important thing in a partner for you – the body or the soul?

      HUSBAND. The soul, certainly.

      PROFESSOR. Then what difference does it make what body this soul has, male or female?

      HUSBAND. For me – a very big difference.

      PROFESSOR. Imagine a kindred soul so fine, sublime, gifted, intellectual, sympathetic …

      HUSBAND. I have been searching for such a soul for a very long time. But this soul should inhabit a nice body, not too skinny and not too plump. And it is also important to me that this soul would have a normal woman’s breasts, slender legs and blue eyes.

      PROFESSOR. In other words, you’re against homosexual love?

      HUSBAND. Absolutely. But I can understand lesbians. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a blushing, soft, gentle, fresh, supple, appetizing, young female body. But any attraction to a man is unnatural.

      PROFESSOR. But, you see, some women find men to be rather attractive.

      HUSBAND. A perversion. Women will always have their follies.

      PROFESSOR. Well, I’ll find you a woman. By the way, I have just been talking to two ladies.

      HUSBAND. So have I.

      PROFESSOR. I have every reason to believe that they will not object.

      HUSBAND. They’re willing.

      PROFESSOR. Which do you prefer – a plump blonde or a slim brunette?

      HUSBAND. That’s a hard choice. What did you say, “a slim blonde or a plump brunette”?

      PROFESSOR. No, the other way around – a plump blonde or a slim brunette.

      HUSBAND. I would prefer a compromise.

      PROFESSOR. Namely?

      HUSBAND. A slender redhead.

      PROFESSOR. And I thought you would choose both.

      HUSBAND. That’s a good idea. Where are the women?

      PROFESSOR. I don’t know. Let’s get back to the subject. What I am offering is not a coarse carnal act, but an educational process. In other words, I give lessons. Treatment, consulting, lecturing.

      HUSBAND. What is there to lecture about?

      PROFESSOR. How can you even ask that? Sex is a kind of transaction. And, as in any transaction, you must be considerate, discreet, skillful, and most important, persuasive. Are you persuasive in sex?

      HUSBAND. I don’t know what to say …

      PROFESSOR. Don’t hesitate to admit your weakness. Such shyness is a prejudice. Unfortunately, our society has not yet freed itself of its primitive values. Why isn’t shameful to be a fool, an alcoholic, or a cheat, but it is to be impotent? If you don’t have a leg or an eye, if you are short-sighted, skinny or fat, if you are stupid and rude, it is not shameful. If you can’t support your family, it’s pardonable. But woe to you if you’re incapable of this one thing. You must hide it from everyone… (Sighs.) But, if you think about it, who cares, really, except your girlfriend?

      HUSBAND. As for me, I’m OK, I think. But I want to be successful. Earn a lot of money. I work hard, I’m very busy. I think a lot. There’s no time left for sex. And, to tell the truth, no strength either.

      PROFESSOR. That’s just your mistake. You’re busy, but not with the right things. Only sex makes us all equal, only sex frees us from feeling inferior to the arrogant highbrow elite. If you’re sure of yourself as a man, you will be sure in everything else.

      HUSBAND. You think so?

      PROFESSOR. I don’t think so, I know so. Success requires an enormous effort. You have to study for a long time, struggle, strive, push others aside, grit your teeth, pay your dues and kiss ass. The only self-affirmation you get is from sex. It makes you feel strong, important, necessary, and even superior, without studying anything, without knowing anything, without any intelligence or talent. So you can enjoy life. That is the advantage of sex over anything else you can do. If you are successful in sex, you can’t be a loser. And, vice versa, if you’re a failure at sex, nothing goes right. (Bitterly). Believe me, I know.

      HUSBAND. There’s some truth to what you’re saying.

      PROFESSOR. The naked truth. I’m willing to teach you for twenty years and then you’ll see that… (Suddenly presses his hand to his chest, groans and falls into an armchair.)

      HUSBAND. What’s wrong?

      PROFESSOR. My heart…

      HUSBAND. Do you have your pills?

      PROFESSOR. (Breathes heavily.) Usually, a sister comes and gives me a shot.

      HUSBAND. Should I call the sister?

      PROFESSOR. (Hastily). No, don’t do that! I’ll feel better soon… Or maybe not. (Pause). My life is over – and what is there for me to remember? If I could start my life all over I wouldn’t want to. In kindergarten I dreamed of going to school as soon as possible. At school I dreamed of finishing it as soon as possible. At the university I dreamed of being on my own as soon as possible. At work I dreamed of retirement since my first

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