...And Dreams Are Dreams

industrialist’s wife. Sitting at his side, she hadn’t spoken once during the conversation. But she could feel that the architect, even though sitting across from and not next to her husband, separated from him by a wide table, was luring him away with a web of sounds, and she could see them dangerously approaching one another. Thus Persephone’s intervention, coming from the other end of the table, gave her the opportunity to say that she was cold, that she hadn’t brought her cardigan, and to suggest they pay the bill and get going.

“If he’s the plasterboard, his wife is definitely the fiberglass,” thought the doctor, and in the way he had of playing with people like he did with laboratory animals, he asked her if she worked with her husband.

“Not at all,” Thalia replied. “I work at the Athens Festival. At the Tourist Board. ”She replied in such a tone that the doctor didn’t pursue his inquiry.

“I wonder if you could get me tickets for Peter Brook?” sighed Lulu, a former lover of Elias’s, a plump woman who had invited herself to tag along on the cruise.

The gentle evening enveloped them in its cloak.

They were back on the yacht now, having passed by the coffee shops along the sea front, the souvenir shops, and the two kiosks. Aphrodite stopped at one of the kiosks to place a call to Athens. She simply had to speak to the nanny who was looking after her child.

Her maternal instinct, hitherto hibernating inside her, had been awakened by a toddler whose foreign-looking mother was pushing it along in its stroller.

Greek women treated their children as if they were their only fortune, as if they supported the home, the solidity of the family. Foreign women were more detached, as if they had been charged with raising them. As if to do so was somewhat of a burden.

She waited in line for the phone. In front of her, two unkempt English women stood: they had run out of money and were calling home. By the time her turn came, the others had reached the yacht. She spoke with the nanny. Everything was fine. She felt relieved, but there was an emptiness inside her. She was moved by the sight of a cat wandering along the quay, and she picked it up and held it in her arms. They were all so alien and indifferent to her on the yacht — except for the doctor. She wanted to have some fun. That night (she had seen a poster while she was waiting to use the phone), the fantastic disc jockey Francisco would be visiting the island, only for that weekend, at the Nafsik discotheque. There was going to be a dance competition.

“Shall we go?” she suggested to the others. “It’ll be good for a laugh.”

Opinions seemed to differ. Some wanted to go, others couldn’t be bothered. Undeniably, all of them together, as a group, were difficult to get going. There were too many of them, all unrelated to each other.

The doctor said nothing. He was playing

backgammon with the engineer and waiting for the moon to come out.

Elias had disappeared into his cabin with Madam

“tag along.” She had brought with her an American woman, who liked Greece so much she declared she was staying permanently. Out of boredom, once the game was over (he had lost again), the doctor thought of striking up a conversation with her. He had noticed that nobody was talking to her, and he felt a little sorry for her. Besides, it would be a good opportunity for him to polish up his English.

Night had fallen for good. The American woman had to have it, and the doctor, closing his cabin door, offered her a pound of testicles. She saw them, evaluated them, and wanted to try them. They seemed to her like quite a bunch. Muscat. The doctor locked the door, drew the porthole curtains, and watched her undress. Below her worn, inexpensive clothes, her body began to reveal its curves and swells. She had nice legs, though a little on the heavy side, a slim waist, narrow hips, and a wonderful chocolate-colored chest. He didn’t care much for her face. Her eyes were like two holes.

She looked him over. He was quite strong, with a little fat around the waist, but she liked the bulk of his cocoon of caterpillars. They lay down on the narrow bunk.

She told him immediately that it had only been two days since she had last made love. She wasn’t desperate was what that meant. He told her that he had screwed Aphrodite that morning (he indicated which one of the women she was) and that he still had her smell on him. That didn’t seem to bother the American. When in Greece, she would screw as often as possible. And it was possible very often. She used a diaphragm, so he could ejaculate inside her, not to worry.

The doctor lay down next to her and touched her nipple. Right away, she put her hands between his legs and held his eggs as if weighing them. They were much more than two handfuls, and that pleased her.

Then she spread her legs and told him that she was ready and wet for him to come inside her if he wanted.

He entered her, and his arms filled with raw meat.