S HE WASN’T at home. The front door of the building stood ajar, so I went up the stairs, rang the bell, and waited. Then I rang again. Inside the apartment the doors were open, as I could see through the glass of the front door, and I could also make out the mirror, the wardrobe, and the clock in the hall. I could hear it ticking.
I sat down on the stairs and waited. I wasn’t relieved, the way you can sometimes be when you feel funny about a certain decision and afraid of the consequences and then relieved that you’ve managed to carry out the former without incurring1 the latter. Nor was I disappointed. I was determined3 to see her and to wait until she came.
The clock in the hall struck the quarter hour, then the half hour, then the hour. I tried to follow its soft ticking and to count the nine hundred seconds between one stroke and the next, but I kept losing track. The yard buzzed with the sound of the carpenter’s saws, the building echoed with voices or music from one of the apartments, and a door opened and closed. Then I heard slow, heavy, regular footsteps coming up the stairs. I hoped that whoever he was, he lived on the second floor. If he saw me—how would I explain what I was doing there? But the footsteps didn’t stop at the second floor. They kept coming. I stood up.
It was Frau Schmitz. In one hand she was carrying a coal scuttle4, in the other a box of briquets. She was wearing a uniform jacket and skirt, and I realized that she was a streetcar conductor. She didn’t notice me until she reached the landing—she didn’t look annoyed, or surprised, or mocking—none of the things I had feared. She looked tired. When she put down the coke and was hunting in her jacket pocket for the key, coins fell out onto the floor. I picked them up and gave them to her.
“There are two more scuttles5 down in the cellar. Will you fill them and bring them up? The door’s open.”
I ran down the stairs. The door to the cellar was open, the light was on, and at the bottom of the long cellar stairs I found a bunker made of boards with the door on the latch6 and a loose padlock hanging from the open bolt. It was a large space, and the coke was piled all the way up to the ceiling hatch through which it had been poured from the street into the cellar. On one side of the door was a neat stack of briquets; on the other side were the coal scuttles.
I don’t know what I did wrong. At home I also fetched the coke from the cellar and never had any problems. But then the coke at home wasn’t piled so high. Filling the first scuttle went fine. As I picked up the second scuttle by the handles and tried to shovel7 the coke up off the floor, the mountain began to move. From the top little pieces started bouncing down while the larger ones followed more sedately8; further down it all began to slide and there was a general rolling and shifting on the floor. Black dust rose in clouds. I stood there, frightened, as the lumps came down and hit me and soon I was up to my ankles in coke.
I got my feet out of the coke, filled the second scuttle, looked for a broom, and when I found it I swept the lumps that had rolled out into the main part of the cellar back into the bunker, latched9 the door, and carried the two scuttles upstairs.
She had taken off her jacket, loosened her tie and undone10 the top button, and was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of milk. She saw me, began to choke with laughter, and then let it out in full-throated peals11. She pointed2 at me and slapped her other hand on the table. “Look at you, kid, just look at you!” Then I caught sight of my black face in the mirror over the sink, and laughed too.
“You can’t go home like that. I’ll run you a bath and beat the dust out of your clothes.” She went to the tub and turned on the faucet12. The water ran steaming into the tub. “Take your clothes off carefully, I don’t need black dust all over the kitchen.”
I hesitated, took off my sweater and shirt, and hesitated again. The water was rising quickly and the tub was almost full.
“Do you want to take a bath in your shoes and pants? I won’t look, kid.” But when I had turned off the faucet and taken off my underpants, she looked me over calmly. I turned red, climbed into the tub, and submerged myself. When I came up again she was out on the balcony with my clothes. I heard her beating the shoes against each other and shaking out my pants and sweater. She called down something about coal dust and sawdust, someone called back up to her, and she laughed. Back in the kitchen, she put my things on the chair. Glancing quickly at me, she said, “Take the shampoo and wash your hair. I’ll bring a towel in a minute,” then took something out of the wardrobe, and left the kitchen.
I washed myself. The water in the tub was dirty and I ran in some fresh so that I could wash my head and face clean under the flow. Then I lay there, listening to the boiler13 roar, and feeling the cool air on my face as it came through the half-open kitchen door, and the warm water on my body. I was comfortable. It was an exciting kind of comfort and I got hard.
I didn’t look up when she came into the kitchen, until she was standing14 by the tub. She was holding a big towel in her outstretched arms. “Come!” I turned my back as I stood up and climbed out of the tub. From behind, she wrapped me in the towel from head to foot and rubbed me dry. Then she let the towel fall to the floor. I didn’t dare move. She came so close to me that I could feel her breasts against my back and her stomach against my behind. She was naked too. She put her arms around me, one hand on my chest and the other on my erection.
“That’s why you’re here!”
“I . . .” I didn’t know what to say. Not yes, but not no either. I turned around. I couldn’t see much of her, we were standing too close. But I was overwhelmed by the presence of her naked body. “You’re so beautiful!”
“Come on, kid, what are you talking about!” She laughed and wrapped her arms around my neck. I put my arms around her too.
I was afraid: of touching15, of kissing, afraid I wouldn’t please her or satisfy her. But when we had held each other for a while, when I had smelled her smell and felt her warmth and her strength, everything fell into place. I explored her body with my hands and mouth, our mouths met, and then she was on top of me, looking into my eyes until I came and closed my eyes tight and tried to control myself and then screamed so loud that she had to cover my mouth with her hand to smother16 the sound.
她不在家，楼房的大门虚掩着。我上了楼梯，按了门铃，等在那儿。我又按了一遍。透过房门的玻璃我可以看到，屋子里的门没有关。我可以看到门廊里的镜子、衣架和挂钟，并听得见挂钟的滴答声。
我坐在楼梯上等，感觉并不轻松。如果一个人在做决定时感到软弱无力，如果他对后果感到恐惧，如果对他的决定得以实施，而且没有产生什么不良后果而感到高兴的话，那么，他会感觉如何呢？我也并没有感到失望，我决心见到她，一定等她回来。
门廊里的挂钟先后敲响了一刻钟、半点钟和整点钟的钟声。我数着钟摆轻轻的滴答声，从一次响声之后开始数，直数到下次响声的九百秒。但是，我的注意力总是被分散。院子里发出锯木头的刺耳尖叫声，楼道里可听得见从别的房间里传出来的说话声或音乐声。然后，我听见有人脚步均匀地、沉稳地、慢慢地上楼的声音。我希望他住在三楼，如果他看见我，我该怎样向他解释我在这儿做什么呢？但是，脚步声在三楼没有停下来而是继续往上走，我站了起来。
来人是史密芝女士，她一手提着焦炭篮，另一只手拎着煤球篓。她穿了一身制服，夹克衫和裙子，从着装上我看得出来，她是有轨电车售票员。直到走上楼梯平台，她才发现我。她看上去没有生气，没有惊奇，没有嘲笑，完全没有我所恐惧的样子。她看上去很疲惫。当她把煤篓子放下，在夹克衫兜里找钥匙的时候，硬币掉到了地上，我把它们抬起来交给她。
"楼下的地下室里还有两个篮子，能去把它们装满提上来吗？门是开着的。"
我跑到了楼下，地下室的门开着，里面的灯也亮着。在走了很长一段台阶后，到了地下室，看见了一间用木板隔开的房间，房门虚掩着，开着的环状锁挂在门闩上。房间很大，焦炭一直堆到了棚顶下的小窗那么高，焦炭就是从这个小窗口从街上倒进来的。在门的两边，一侧整齐地分层堆放着煤坯，另一侧摆放着煤篮子。
我不知道，我哪儿做错了。我在家里也从地下室里往上提煤，而且从来没出过什么问题，只不过我们家的煤没有堆得那么高。装第一篮子的时候还没有什么问题，当我提第二篮子准备往里装的时候，煤山开始晃动，从上面蹦蹦跳跳地滑落下来大大小小的煤块，在地下又堆成了一堆。黑色的煤灰像云雾一样散开，我愣在那儿，看着一个煤块接着一个煤块地往下掉，一会儿工夫，我的两脚就被埋在了煤堆里。
当煤山安静下来的时候，我从煤堆里迈了出来，把第二个篮子装满，找到一把扫帚，把地下室过道里的和木板间里的煤扫到了一起，锁上门，提着两个篮子上了楼。
她已经脱掉了夹克衫，领带也放松了，最上边的扣子也解开了，手里拿着一杯牛奶，坐在厨房里的桌子旁。她看到我的时候，先是咯咯地笑，接着就放声大笑。她一手指着我，另一只手敲着桌子："瞧瞧你什么样子，小家伙，瞧瞧你什么样子！"这时，从洗手池上面的镜子里，我也看到了自己的黑脸，我和她一起笑了起来。
"你不能这个样子回家，我给你放洗澡水，并把你的衣服打扫干净。"她走向浴盆，打开水龙头，水冒着热气哗哗地流进浴盆。"你脱衣服小心点儿，我的厨房里可不需要煤炭。"
我迟迟疑疑地脱掉了毛衣和衬衣之后，又犹豫起来。水涨得很快，浴盆几乎都满了。
"你想穿着鞋和裤子洗澡吗，小家伙？我不看的。"但是，当我把水龙头关掉并脱掉了内裤之后，她在静静地、仔细地打量着我。我脸红了，迈进了浴盆，潜在水里。当我从水里露出头的时候，她已经拿着我的东西在阳台上了。我听得见她把两只鞋子对着敲打着，我听得见她在抖着我的裤子和毛衣。她在向楼下喊着"煤灰"，底下的人也向上喊着"木屑"，她笑了。回到厨房后，她把我的东西放在了椅子上。她只是很快地向我瞥了一眼，"用点洗头膏，洗洗你的头发，我马上去拿浴巾。"她从衣柜里拿出了什么东西就离开了厨房。
我洗着，浴盆里的水脏了，我放着干净水，以便把头和脸冲干净。然后，我躺在那儿，听着热水器的轰鸣声，脸上感觉到从敞开一条缝的厨房门里流入的冷空气。身体泡在热水里，我感觉很舒服，舒服得令我兴奋，我的生殖器坚挺起来。
当她走进厨房时，我没有抬头，直到她走到浴盆前我才抬头。她张开双臂，手里拿着一条大浴巾："来！"当我站起身来迈出浴盆的时候，我背对着她。她用毛巾从后面把我围了起来，从头到脚给我擦干，然后她让浴巾滑落到地上。我不敢动，她站得离我如此之近，使我的后背感觉到了她的乳房，我的屁股感觉到了她的腹部。她也一丝不挂。她用双臂搂着我。
"你不就是为这个才来的吗！"
"我……"我不知道我该说什么，没有说不，也没有说是。我转过身来，没有看到她什么，我们站得太近了。但是，我被眼前她的裸体征服了。"你多美呀！""啊，小家伙，你在说什么呀！"她笑着用两手搂住了我的脖子，我也拥抱着她。
我害怕，怕抚摸，怕接吻，怕我不能令她满意，怕我满足不了她。但当我们拥抱了一会儿之后，我闻到了她的体味，感觉出她的体温和力量，一切就水到渠成了。我用手，用嘴探索着她的身体，最后吻到嘴。我双眼紧闭，起初还努力控制自己，接着就大声叫喊起来。我的叫声如此之大，她只好用手把我的嘴捂住。
收听单词发音 |
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incurring
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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scuttles
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| n.天窗( scuttle的名词复数 )v.使船沉没( scuttle的第三人称单数 )；快跑，急走 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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faucet
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| n.水龙头 | |
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boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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