White Niggers
Chapter 5
Friday, August 2nd, 2019, 15:40
Karl-Gunsam-Gasse 1, 11th district of Vienna, The Kaiser Franz-Joseph Suite
"Let's go," Riml-Löhr says.
The four of them go into the Kaiser Franz-Joseph Suite at the end of the hallway. Iveta bends down to avoid hitting the door frame with her head.
The smell of roses is the first thing Riml-Löhr notices when he enters the suite. Right behind the door there is a separate sitting area with plush velvet armchairs.
On the coffee table stands a vase with blood-red roses, bottles of mineral water, a metal coffee carafe, and a crystal plate with Mozart balls. These are spherical pralines with a pistachio-green core, made out of marzipan and nougat, and chocolate coating.
"Oh, these are the real ones," Eighty-eight says. "Not like those at the supermarket."
She runs to the table and begins to unwrap the pralines from their aluminum foil with the blue print of Mozart's profile on it. Riml-Löhr takes a good look at her bottom while she eats one Mozart ball after another. It takes him a while to move his eyes away from it.
Close to the door is a big, floor-to-ceiling painting of Empress Sissi with diamond stars. It shows a woman in a gala dress with a pretty, by Austrian standards, face. There are diamond stars in her long brown hair. She was the wife of Emperor Franz Joseph I. Since her death over hundred years ago, she has been the subject of countless books, musicals, and movies.
Never understood the whole fuss about her, Riml-Löhr thinks. I mean, every single one of these girls is sexier than Her Majesty. But maybe Superstrizzi wants his clients to remember they copulate with better women than the Emperor himself.
Speakers hidden somewhere around the king-size bed play the "Voices of Spring" waltz. On one side of the bed is a champagne bucket with ice and an unopened bottle.
Riml-Löhr takes a look at the en-suite bathroom. Spacious marble countertop, rainforest showerhead. Superstrizzi's clients should get comfortable before they blabber out state secrets, Riml-Löhr thinks.
He goes back into the suite.
"On your knees," Iveta says to Riml-Löhr.
"What?" Riml-Löhr says.
"I said on your knees, slave," Iveta says.
She points with her finger at the hardwood floor in front of him.
"Are you completely cuckoo?" Riml-Löhr says. "If someone is anybody's slave, it's you. I am paying you… indirectly, and you have to serve me."
"You aren't into masochism?" Iveta says.
"No!" Riml-Löhr says.
"You sure?" Iveta says. "You sure appear to be someone who likes it."
"I don't," Riml-Löhr says.
"Don't you want to try?" Iveta says.
"I already told you," Riml-Löhr says.
"I am very surprised," Iveta says. "Men like you typically enjoy when I spank their ass, or insert a dildo–"
"Stop it," Riml-Löhr says. "Know your place."
"Don't you really want to try it out?" Eighteen says. "She is right, you are the perfect type for S&M."
"Shut up," Riml-Löhr says. "Otherwise I tell Superstrizzi to send you to the drive-thru brothel, where losers will bang you 8 hours a day."
"Losers like you?" Iveta says.
"Don't be smart," Riml-Löhr says.
"Of course, mein Herr," Iveta says. "How do you want me to address you?"
"Call me Philipp," Riml-Löhr says.
"Alright, Philipp, lead us into the battle," Iveta says.
"That's better," Riml-Löhr says. "Now undress me."
Iveta and Eighty-eight take off his jacket and shirt. Eighteen crouches in front of him and tries to open the fly zipper. It jams, and she yanks it up and down.
"Ouch," Riml-Löhr screams. "What are you doing in there?"
"It's jammed," Eighteen says.
She is on her knees now, fiddling around with the fly zipper and Riml-Löhr's johnson.
"Easy there," Riml-Löhr says. "I am your client, for crying out loud!"
"I think I got it," Eighteen says.
The fly is open and she slides down the pants and the briefs from Riml-Löhr's legs. Then she holds the briefs in front of Riml-Löhr.
"These are bad for you. They press your balls together, all day long. Reduce sperm count. Very unhealthy," Eighteen says. "Better switch to boxer shorts."
"You women are impossible!" Riml-Löhr says. "I am here to screw you, not to get medical advice."
"She is right," Eighty-eight says. "Everybody knows it. Maybe if you wore normal underwear, you wouldn't have such a short fuse."
"Incredible," Riml-Löhr says.
He sits down on the edge of the bed.
"I meant to help," Eighteen says. "Let me give you a handjob."
"Alright," Riml-Löhr says. "You, Eighty-eight, bring me something to drink."
Iveta sits down next to him and places her hands on Riml-Löhr's shoulders. Eighteen is on her knees in front of Riml-Löhr.
"Everything will be alright, lil' boy," Iveta says.
She puts on a smile that makes Riml-Löhr surrender to her believable imitation of affection.
Eigthy-eight hands him a glass of mineral water, then sits down on a chair.
"Do you want me to use some oil?" Eighteen says.
"Sure," Riml-Löhr says.
Eighty-eight gives Eighteen a plastic bottle. Eighteen squeezes out oil from it on her hands. She spills some of the oil on the floor. Then she continues working with Riml-Löhr's johnson.
"That's good," Eighteen says.
She looks up to Riml-Löhr.
"How do you know about the sperm count?" Riml-Löhr says.
"I used to be a nurse in Czechia," Eighteen says.
"Are you also from Czechia?" Riml-Löhr says to Eighty-Eight.
"No, Poland," Eighty-eight says.
"And you?" Riml-Löhr says to Iveta.
"Slovakia," Iveta says.
"Czechia, Poland, Slovakia," Riml-Löhr says. "The whole Visegrád group, huh?"
"Wishy-what?" Eighty-eight says.
"Nevermind," Riml-Löhr says. "Let's get down to business."
He stands up and steps into the oil on the floor. He loses balance and his glass with water falls on the floor as well. Then he trips on the water and oil and falls.
"Ouch," Riml-Löhr screams. "I hurt my leg."
"Don't worry," Iveta says.
She takes him by the shoulders and drags him onto the bed. She nods at Eighteen. Iveta lays down to the left of Riml-Löhr and Eighteen on the right. Iveta is stroking him on the shoulders.
"Does it still hurt?" Iveta says.
"No," Riml-Löhr says.
Eighteen looks at Riml-Löhr's penis.
"Black hawk down," she says.
"Not entirely," Iveta says. "It's more like a dying swan."
Iveta stands up and mimics a few movements from the ballet. Eighteen giggles. Iveta lays down again.
"Very funny," Riml-Löhr says. "Who of you swallows?"
Iveta frowns and shakes her head.
"Not with you, sorry," she says.
"I can do it," Eighty-eight says.
"Lock and load," Riml-Löhr says.
Eigthy-eight wipes traces of chocolate from her face. She lies down, her face on top of Riml-Löhr's penis. She starts working it.
Eighteen and Iveta are lying to the sides of Riml-Löhr. They are talking in a Slavic language he doesn't understand.
"Would you mind?" Riml-Löhr says.
Eighty-eight's blond hair bounces and sways in sync with her head's bobbing.
"Sorry, Philipp," Iveta says.
Eighty-eight raises her head.
"Need to relax a bit," Eighty-eight says.
Iveta bends over, looks and touches Riml-Löhr's penis.
"Very well," Iveta says. "It's a Phoenix now, resurrecting from the ashes."
"Continue," Riml-Löhr says to Eight-eight.
She starts working again.
"I'll screw you hard with that Phoenix," Riml-Löhr says to Iveta. "Will blow your brains out with it."
"I'm looking forward to it," Iveta says with a throaty voice.
"Gentle down there, please," Riml-Löhr says. "You aren't suppose to bite it off."
Then he moans and grabs the legs of Iveta and Eighteen with his hands.
"Excellent," Riml-Löhr says. "Excellent!"
Eighty-eight starts coughing and then vomits on Riml-Löhr's penis a brownish-green substance. She coughs for several more seconds.
"That gum went down the wrong pipe," Eighty-eight says to Riml-Löhr.
"I am not going to clean this up," Iveta says.
She is smiling at Riml-Löhr like an aristocrat. Eighteen erupts in uproarious laughter. Iveta gives Eighty-eight a handkerchief and Eighty-eight wipes her mouth with it.
"You alright?" Iveta says to Eighty-eight.
Eighteen is still laughing. Tears flow down her face.
"Yeah–" Eighty-eight says.
Then she starts laughing to herself. She stands up and goes into the bathroom. She is laughing so loud, Riml-Löhr can hear her from behind the closed door.
After a few moments she comes back.
"You shouldn't have stuffed yourself with those Mozart balls," Riml-Löhr says.
He wipes the vomit off with a handkerchief. Eighty-eight doesn't answer, but says something to the rest of the Visegrád group in that Slavic language. Now even Iveta is laughing so hard she can't breathe.
"Do you still want to blow my brains out?" Iveta says. "Or are you too embarrassed that she threw up Mozart balls on yours?"
She is tall, Riml-Löhr thinks. She was strong enough to get me on the bed. But I know some dirty fighting tricks and she doesn't. I know how to beat people without leaving traces.
Superstrizzi will understand, Riml-Löhr thinks. Prostitutes are beaten all the time. He's been in business long enough to be flexible about his feminism.
On the flip side, these smartass sluts didn't enlist him into the military, where he, aspiring to be the next Turing, would have to contend with a bunch of grunts. No, these women, as nasty as they are, aren't the real problem.
"Don't be mean," Eighteen says to Iveta. "He is our customer."
"Can we do anything else for you?" Eighteen says to Riml-Löhr.
"Get the hell out of here," Riml-Löhr says.
The women leave. They laugh and giggle.
If they aren't the problem, who or what is? Riml-Löhr thinks. He puts his clothes on.
Don't know what the problem is, he thinks. But this isn't maths, where you can't have a solution without knowing the problem.
Riml-Löhr wraps a tie around his neck. He thinks about Marik. That could be the solution. Served to him on a silver platter.
The Department of Homeland Security's founders had their share of sexual blunders, too, Riml-Löhr thinks. Probably. They still wield power over history and get paid through the nose for it. Their real estate agents don't ask them about their impotence when they buy houses in Greenwich, Connecticut. Or private planes. Or yachts.
I'll get my share of that pie, too, Riml-Löhr thinks when he leaves the Kaiser Franz-Joseph Suite. And regarding Turing – how many skyscrapers did he blow up?
Riml-Löhr goes back outside.