Текст книги "Theater Plays"

Автор книги: Valentin Krasnogorov

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GIRL. Will she agree?

PROFESSOR. Why not?

GIRL. A threesome is not so interesting.

PROFESSOR. On the contrary, it can be even more interesting.

GIRL. Well then, go and talk to her. I’ll wait here. But don’t leave me alone for long! I hate being alone. It makes me feel sick.

PROFESSOR. I’ve been sick of being alone for a long time now.

PROFESSOR leaves. HUSBAND enters.

HUSBAND. Let’s have sex.

GIRL. OK.

HUSBAND. I’m serious.

GIRL. I could tell right away that you’re not joking. (Starts to unbutton her dress.) Well?

HUSBAND. Right now?

GIRL. Certainly not tomorrow.

HUSBAND. Right here?

GIRL. Where else?

HUSBAND. Who will start first?

GIRL. Don’t we have to do it together?

HUSBAND. Yes, but somebody has to take the initiative.

GIRL. You have already done it. You offered; I agreed. Now it’s your turn again.

HUSBAND. What should I do?

GIRL. Do what you offered to do, I think.

HUSBAND. That would be great. But I don’t know how to start.

GIRL. That’s the most difficult part.

HUSBAND. What do you suggest?

GIRL. To tell the truth, I don’t have any experience.

HUSBAND. You’ve never had an affair with a man?

GIRL. Never! But men sometimes had an affair with me.

HUSBAND. And how did they start?

GIRL. All sorts of ways.

HUSBAND. I think we’re supposed to talk for a while first.

GIRL. What for?

HUSBAND. I don’t know. That’s how it’s done.

GIRL. What should we talk about?

HUSBAND. I don’t know. Books, movies, painting…

GIRL. And how long do we have to talk?

HUSBAND. I don’t know. It depends.

GIRL. Why not to talk afterwards?

HUSBAND. We can talk afterwards, too, but somehow you don’t want to anymore. Usually the talk comes first.

GIRL. Well, if that’s the way it’s supposed to be, then talk. But make it quick.

Pause.

HUSBAND. Under other circumstances I would offer to take you out to a cafe.

GIRL. Thanks. I already had a cup of coffee today. I thought you were proposing something else.

HUSBAND. That offer remains valid.

GIRL. So, what’s the matter?

HUSBAND. You see, sex should not begin from the end; it should begin from the beginning. There should be a resistance, there should be a struggle, and there should be a victory. That’s what brings satisfaction.

GIRL. We have resistance. On your part.

HUSBAND. I’m not resisting.

GIRL. Oh really? Are you being aggressive, then? Well, I surrender. It’s impossible to resist you. So, we’ve had resistance; we’ve had victory; now it’s time for satisfaction.

HUSBAND. But first let's talk.

GIRL. Haven’t we talked already?

HUSBAND. We haven’t even started to talk.

GIRL. Is that so? Well then, let's talk.

Pause.

HUSBAND. What will we talk about?

GIRL. Tell me about your Don Juan list of conquests. I suppose it’s incredibly long.

HUSBAND. Yes, I have a lot to tell …

GIRL. Well, how many women have you had? Tell the truth. Twenty? Thirty? A hundred?

HUSBAND. Maybe more… (After a pause.) To tell the truth though, not quite that many.

GIRL. Well then, how many? Ten?

HUSBAND. Not quite.

GIRL. Less than ten? And you call that a list? Still, I want to know, how many? Nine? Eight?

HUSBAND. (Reflecting). Including my wife?

GIRL. On the Don Juan list? Absolutely not. You can only include women on the list; is your wife really a woman to you?

HUSBAND. Then… I have to admit… I… I don’t have a Don Juan list. I mean, I do have a list, but there are no women on it.

GIRL. So get started it!

HUSBAND. Right here?

GIRL. Yes, right here, right now.

HUSBAND. You know, right here, just like that, it doesn’t seem right.

GIRL. What do you mean, “just like that”?! We’ve already been talking for five or ten minutes now!

HUSBAND. That’s not much. Imagine that you’re about to start traveling across a country that is completely new to you. Is your purpose just to reach the final point? No. You will be looking forward to the whole journey, from beginning to end, over all the hills and valleys, cliffs and canyons, roads and trails. Or, if you open a new book, will you start reading from the last page? Without a beginning there is no plot, without a plot there is no climax. And do you think that the goal of a climber is just to be on top without making the climb? Without having to make an effort, without the climb, there is no summit point, no climax.

GIRL. I’ll have a climax. But, of course, it depends on you to some extent. So let’s have sex, finally!

HUSBAND. But we are already having it!

GIRL. Really? I am an inexperienced girl, and easy to fool, but it seems to me that we’re doing something else.

HUSBAND. Sex is not what you think, it’s not just the last fifteen minutes. It’s not the curtain falling at the end of the last act; it’s a drama that has to be played out from beginning to end. Words, gestures, looks, serenades, flowers, gifts, advances, retreats, proposals, evasions – they all are a part of the great game called sex. It’s a ceremony, a series of rituals as old as the rutting of deer or the mating dance of cranes. It is a way of life, the foundation of culture. Fine clothes are not just worn to be taken off at the right moment. The most refined rules of etiquette, novels and poems, the sighs of violins and songs of flutes, pictures and sculptures of the beautiful Venus – all of these are created to convey the yearning of body and soul.

GIRL. Listen…

HUSBAND. No, you listen to me! What an intricate interrelation of the sexes mankind has devised! Certain parts of the body are concealed. Different clothes for different sexes. Different standards of behavior for men and women. The “strong heroic man” and the “weak fragile woman.” Don’t you see that none of this is accidental? It all fits together, doesn’t it?

GIRL. Are you all right?

HUSBAND. What do you mean?

GIRL. You’re acting as though you’re from the century before last. You talk too much.

HUSBAND. You oversimplify life.

GIRL. And you make it too complicated. Sex is a very useful, very simple and very necessary thing. Unfortunately, people go about this simple, pleasant and useful act in complicated, roundabout ways and spend a lot of effort, time and money on it. Why not simply approach someone, give them a big smile, stretch your hand and say, “Let’s have sex!” Like saying, “Good morning” or “Good night.” And how can it be a good night without sex?

HUSBAND. You’re right.

GIRL. “Let’s have sex!” should be used as a greeting. What better way to express an openness and willingness to make contact?

HUSBAND. You’re right. And what would be the response to this greeting?

GIRL. Something casual. Like, “Thanks, my pleasure.” Or, “Always at your service.” Or just, “Sure.”

HUSBAND. And how would we say goodbye?

GIRL. There’s no need to change anything. The words “See you later” already have a certain sexual connotation. You can hear in them a promise of something sweet, intimate, and long awaited.... At least I can. (Speaks quietly to herself.) “See you later ….”

HUSBAND. See you later. (Goеs toward the exit.)

GIRL. Where are you going?

HUSBAND. You said, “See you later.”

GIRL. (Stopping him.) I was talking to myself. I swear, you are crazy.

HUSBAND. I’m completely normal. Maybe a bit old-fashioned, that’s all.

GIRL. That is crazy. But we’ve talked enough. Now it’s high time to do something! We live in a time of action. If you’re not always running to keep up, you’ll fall behind.

HUSBAND. (Anxiously). Who can outdo me?

GIRL. Anybody! You talk, talk, talk, and meanwhile someone will come and snatch me from under your very nose.

HUSBAND. (Scared). Will you leave with him?

GIRL. If someone takes me, I’ll leave. I’m a young, inexperienced girl, I don’t know how to resist.

HUSBAND. Please – don’t leave!

GIRL. Well, alright. You said that we have to have some kind of foreplay. Let's play then. Pretend this is not the first time we’ve met, but the second.

HUSBAND. And then what?

GIRL. When we meet the second time, we don’t necessarily have to talk. The formalities are over, and we can get right to the main act.

HUSBAND. No, I can’t do it. Sex is an art, an act of creation …

GIRL. So let’s procreate!

HUSBAND. But at least tell me something about yourself first. What’s your name, what are your interests…

GIRL. I don’t have any interests. I’m a young, inexperienced girl – pure, enthusiastic, and romantic – who is interested only in sex.

HUSBAND. And nothing else?

GIRL. What “else” is there? (Thinks.) Maybe, also math.

HUSBAND. Mathematics?

GIRL. I once calculated that at any given moment at least ten million people in the world are having sex. Think of that! While we’re talking now and wasting time, at this very moment five million couples pairs all over the world are doing what you and me are not doing. If you laid them all out in a straight line six feet apart – the width of a king-size bed – they would form a chain over five thousand miles long! Can you imagine that? A cosmic process! A factory! It takes my breath away!

HUSBAND. Mine too.

GIRL. So let's join them!

HUSBAND. Right here?

GIRL. Right here, right now. Hurry! We don’t have much time, you know!

The HUSBAND hesitantly approaches the Girl, but suddenly shudders and listens in fear.

HUSBAND. Hush!

GIRL. (Frightened). What?

HUSBAND. Somebody’s coming!

Both listen.

GIRL. I just knew that this would happen!

HUSBAND. Hush!

Both listen. Silence.

GIRL. There is no one coming. Hurry, let’s do it! Otherwise it will be too late.

HUSBAND. Maybe later? Not now and not here?

GIRL. Are you afraid?

HUSBAND. Aren’t you?

GIRL. To tell the truth, I am. But you have to take the chance sometime. You have to prove sometime that you have the right to do what you want.

HUSBAND. Maybe tomorrow?

GIRL. And tomorrow you won’t be afraid?

HUSBAND. I’ll never stop being afraid. I’m afraid all the time. I’m afraid to make a mistake. To say sometime wrong. Take the wrong bus. Shake the wrong hand. Take the wrong side. Bet on the wrong horse. Everybody is climbing, climbing, climbing, and I’m afraid I can’t keep up. I don’t have the elbows, claws and teeth to make my way through the jungle. I’m afraid of tomorrow. I’m afraid of next Friday. I wait in fear of next month. I’m afraid I’ll lose my job. I’m afraid I’ll get sick. I’m afraid of women. I’m afraid of old age. I’m afraid to die. And even more afraid to live.

GIRL. Calm down.

HUSBAND. And this damn money. Money, money, money! It’s all anyone thinks, talks and cares about. Wives don’t want love from their husbands, just money. That alone is enough to drive you crazy.

GIRL. Aren’t you afraid to always be afraid?

HUSBAND. Of course I am. Don’t you see what’s going on all around? Every day is the same, without purpose and without hope. Nothing changes, and if it does change, then it’s only for the worse. We are caught in a net and flop around like fish; we open our mouths to scream, but nothing comes out; nobody hears. We keep running just to stay in place – round and round in the same wheel, in the same cage, today just like yesterday, tomorrow just like today, the day after tomorrow just like always. We struggle to make our way up, up, up. Up the down escalator. All the time we have no time. We want to have time to do everything we want to do, to make all the money we want to have. We reach out, clutch hold and scramble up. We’re almost there, so close, just one more step, just a little more effort – grab it, take it! But there is nothing to grab because you can’t hold on to happiness. That’s how we spend our lives; you can never get those years back. And what is it all for, what for? You want to run away from this life, run as fast as you can. But you just don’t have the strength to do it. You start to get out of breath; you stop, look back and think. You get scared, and then you start running again. So let's run away. There’s no time left!

GIRL. You think too much. You shouldn’t think. There is no tomorrow. There is only today. Don’t think, OK?

HUSBAND. You think that we shouldn’t think?

GIRL. I think we should run away, that’s all.

HUSBAND. Where to?

GIRL. The important thing is not where to, but where from. Away from the place that we hate, away from here. Here where nothing is possible, where everything is forbidden, everything has to be by the rules and according to schedule. We’ll escape to a better world, where everyone is free, where nothing is forbidden, where there’s not a ceiling overhead, but a big high blue sky with big white clouds floating by. Where people laugh; where they’re happy, and sing and dance; they’re cheerful and never sick, and nobody tells them how to live or what they have to do.

HUSBAND. Is there really such a world?

GIRL. Yes, it exists! It’s a world where no one is afraid, where everybody goes to bed whenever they want to, with whomever they want to; where there is plenty of sun and plenty of sex. Where no one is boss and everyone is happy.

HUSBAND. And where will we live without money?

GIRL. Wherever we want! We’ll live on a bench. In the bushes. On a soft green meadow. In a boat. Yes, in a boat! We’ll lie in it, embracing, and it will rock gently and carry us away, always to somewhere new. A brass band will meet us on every pier, and the music will ring out, and they’ll shower us with flowers, and we’ll drift and drift and have sex, and we’ll go so far that nobody will ever find us.

HUSBAND.… Nobody will ever find us.… OK, let’s do it!.

GIRL. When?

HUSBAND. Right now.

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 goes out. The HUSBAND waits for her impatiently. There can be an intermission here. The HUSBAND can stay on the stage, waiting for the GIRL.

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 day on the job. When I got married, I dreamed of divorce. Whenever I had sex with a woman, I dreamed of another woman and different sex. All my life I dreamed of another life. What now? Start all over and live the same life, dreaming of something else?

HUSBAND. So you too dream of another life and different sex?

PROFESSOR. Not of different sex anymore. Once I had it every day. Then every other day. Then once a week. Then once a month. I can’t understand it: as the years go by, I have more and more skill and experience, but for some reason less desire. There is more and more theory and less and less practice. Why is that? And, you know, my work is very hard. Lots of calls. I get very tired.

HUSBAND. So do I.

PROFESSOR. I’m too old for this kind of work. When I was younger the hand of my clock stood at ten or eleven, and now it barely reaches eight. To tell the truth, it stopped at six a long time ago.… I try to remember now and I can’t – when was it?

HUSBAND. When was what?

PROFESSOR. When was the last time I had sex?

HUSBAND. Did you ever have it?

PROFESSOR. Oh yes, lots of it. At lectures and in libraries. At seminars and conferences. But even that was a long, long time ago.

HUSBAND. Don’t give up.

PROFESSOR. Yes, my friend, everything in the world has changed for me now. There are juicy steaks, but no teeth. Beautiful women, but no money. There is a rich past, but no future. There is everything, but there is nothing. Soon I too will not be. (He clutches his chest again and groans.)

HUSBAND. Maybe I should call the sister?

PROFESSOR. (Scared). No! (Pause). People used to believe that a guardian angel watches over us all our life. But at the appointed hour he abandons us, and the angel of death takes his place. What do you think does he look like?

HUSBAND. I don’t know… An old woman dressed in black, holding a scythe… Or a grinning skeleton. What do you think?

PROFESSOR. Sometimes I feel death so very close, but I can’t see it. Maybe, it comes in the guise of an ordinary soldier with a tommy-gun, or a surgeon with a scalpel, or a sister with a syringe…

HUSBAND. (Echoes him.) Yes, a sister with a syringe…

PROFESSOR. The worst thing is that it’s always near. It may knock on the door at any minute. Wave the scythe. Press the trigger. Stick in the needle. (Quietly.) Look, is that her?

HUSBAND. (Frightened). Who? The sister with the syringe?

PROFESSOR. (Whispering). I’m afraid she has already come.

HUSBAND. Where?

PROFESSOR. I don’t know. I always have the feeling she’s somewhere close by, behind my back, watching me.

HUSBAND. (Whispering). Me too.

PROFESSOR. Go see.

HUSBAND. (Looks around the room and checks the exits.) There’s nоbody here.

PROFESSOR. Thank God. (Sighs). We must hurry up and live before she puts her hand on our shoulder. And what are we doing? How are we using the hours we have left? Do you ever wonder: where do all the days go away? And meanwhile she may come at any moment, this witch with her syringe.

HUSBAND. Yes, there’s nowhere to hide from her. I keep thinking about her myself.

PROFESSOR. (His hand on his chest, listens to himself.) I think I’m getting better… (Gets up from the armchair, cautiously takes a few steps and quickly cheers up.) We’ll still get by for a while! Forgive me for this moment of weakness, this attack of fleeting pessimism! There are so many pleasures in the world! A good steak, a glass of red wine, the sun, women, flowers! Life is fine, my friend! Especially if there’s sex in it! By the way, I forgot to ask, who are you and what are you doing here?

HUSBAND. Me? I… uh…

PROFESSOR. It’s not at all important, though. What’s important is that both of us are young and healthy. We must hurry up and live! Let's sing, let's dance! Turn on the music!

A fiery tango starts to play.

Wonderful! Superb! Perfect! Listen to me: I have a splendid idea…

GIRL. (Entering). Let’s have sex.

PROFESSOR. That is just what I was going to say. Would you like to dance, and we can discuss the details.

The PROFESSOR and the GIRL dance.

GIRL. Which details interest you?

PROFESSOR. What, where, when.

GIRL. Sex, here, now.

PROFESSOR. With whom?

GIRL. With you.

The HUSBAND breaks in and starts dancing with the GIRL.

HUSBAND. What were you talking about?

GIRL. The professor was interested in the details of my offer.

HUSBAND. I’m interested in them too.

GIRL. I’m ready to reveal them. (She makes a provocative move.)

HUSBAND. Very impressive details.

GIRL. And the entire offer?

Now the PROFESSOR breaks in and dances with the GIRL. During the subsequent dialogue she passes from one partner to another.

PROFESSOR. Which of us is your offer addressed to?

GIRL. Both of you.

PROFESSOR. Together or one after the other?

GIRL. Do you really think I’m that depraved?

PROFESSOR. So, one after the other?

GIRL. So, together.

HUSBAND. You’re kidding!

GIRL. Not at all. To have sex with two people one after the other is deceit and infidelity. To do it together is honest, interesting and fun.

HUSBAND. I’ll have to think about that.

GIRL. Again? You’re thinking again? (Passing to the Professor.) And what about you?

PROFESSOR. As I understand, you propose a group dance.

GIRL. You think it’s better to do it alone?

HUSBAND. Together, you and me, just the two of us.

GIRL. Two, three, four together – what’s the difference? Just not to be alone, never be alone…

HUSBAND. But think about this: while one lady is being entertained by two men at once here, maybe another woman somewhere is left all alone.

GIRL. So call her here!

HUSBAND. (Perplexed.) Whom?

GIRL. The woman, so we can all be lonely together.

HUSBAND. I was speaking hypothetically; I didn’t mean anyone in particular.

GIRL. Never mind. Go and find her. Cherchez la femme!

The HUSBAND and the PROFESSOR exit. The WIFE enters.

WIFE. Let’s have sex.

GIRL. OK.

Pause.

WIFE. But who is there to do it with?

GIRL. Don’t you know?

WIFE. No.

GIRL. So why did you say, “Let’s have sex”?

WIFE. I thought you might know.

GIRL. If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here alone.

WIFE. Did you offer yourself to anybody?

GIRL. To everybody.

WIFE. And?

GIRL. No result.

WIFE. Maybe they were afraid you would ask for money?

GIRL. No, I explained I was ready to do it for free.

WIFE. And?

GIRL. Same result.

WIFE. Did you offer them money?

GIRL. No. Only myself.

WIFE. That was your mistake.

GIRL. I know.

WIFE. You should have offered to pay.

GIRL. I know. But I don’t have any money. That’s the problem.

WIFE. When you have money, you don’t have to look for men. They will look for you.

GIRL. Nobody looks for me.

WIFE. That’s too bad. We need to have a family, house, money, social status. And for all this we need a man.

GIRL. Where can we find a man like that?

WIFE. Such a man simply doesn’t exist. That’s why it’s better to have several of them.

GIRL. I know. But I don’t have money. I have only myself.