"Doesn't give you any," I interrupted with a smile.

"Exactly," he said with the same smile.

He entered a narrow, badly paved road and stopped before a huge green gate. He climbed out of the car and opened the gate. When he got back inside, Inoticed the face of Che Guevara printed on his drenched T-shirt.

"Fuck!" he complained. "It's still fall, but the weather is already so lousy." Then he turned to me and asked, "Aren't you a little excited?"

I closed my lips so tightly that I wrinkled my chin. I shook my head and after a brief pause said, "No, not at all."

To reach the door I covered my head with my bag. Running in the rain, we laughed nonstop, like two idiots.

The house was completely dark. When I entered, I felt an icy cold. I groped my way in the pitch darkness; he was evidently used to it. He was familiar with every corner and therefore walked with a certain confidence. I planted myself in a spot where there seemed to be more light and made out a couch, where I placed my bag.

Roberto came up from behind, turned me around, and kissed me, thrusting his entire tongue into my mouth. I found this kiss a bit repulsive; it wasn't at all like Daniele's. He was swapping spit with me, letting it trickle from our lips. I backed off tactfully, without revealing my disgust, and wiped my mouth with the palm of my hand. He took me by the same hand and led me into the bedroom, which was just as dark and just as cold.

"Can't you switch on the light?" I asked while he was kissing my neck.

"No, I like it better like this."

He left me on the huge bed, knelt down, and removed his shoes. I was neither excited nor impassive. I felt I was doing everything just to please him.

He undressed me as if I were a mannequin in a window display, the way a fast, detached shop assistant strips the dummy and leaves it bare.