"Look." Volwa pointed towards the front desk with his index finger. With the rest of his fingers he was holding a glass of black jack like an old drinker.
I followed his direction and saw a bartender in a neat suit, smashing huge ice cubes with an ice pick.
I thought the bars used ready-made ice cubes, but there are still people making ice this old fashioned way. I asked him. "What's wrong?"
Volwa took a sip of wine and stared straight at the sharp ice pick.
"Have you ever seen a movie about a criminal case where a woman ties a man's hands with silk and then stabs him to death with an ice pick during sex while he orgasms."
"Of course I've seen it." I kept staring at the bartender who made the ice. He was very skilled in his movements. After a while, the ice bricks became a size that is convenient for eating. "Basic instinct."
The bartender brought my drink - a mojito garnished with two cherries.
"I don't know what its English name is, but in Russian, "Основной инстинкт"."
"Isn't that the same?" I thought to myself. The mojito in this bar is so sweet it makes me sick.
I glanced at Volwa, who was still staring at the silver ice pick in the bartender's hand. It is about 20 centimeters long, has a sharp cone, and has a hexagonal handle with patterns painted on it to increase the friction of the palm.
"Sharon Stone's tits and ass?" I forced a smile, trying to talk to him.
"Can you see such a blatant movie in China?" Volwa said, taking a few sips of wine. To be honest, I really don't like the kirsch taste of black jack mixed with coffee.
"If you want to be in a movie theater or on TV -- it's not possible in this life. But after all, we're not North Korea." A lot of mint leaves were added to this glass of wine, which made the smell of the wine a lot milder.
"If you want, you can see all the movies in the world, with Chinese subtitles."
"It's amazing." Volwa still didn't look at me, he seemed to be in a daze at the ice pick. After a while, he added: "As magical as Russia."
"Excuse me, can you give me some ice cubes, my wine is too strong." I asked the bartender who was still making ice.
He took a clean glass, filled it with a full glass, and handed it to me. I nod to thank him.
"Are you afraid that one day you'll be pierced like this while you're having sex with a woman?" I joked to him. He used a setting spray today, and his hairstyle is quite trendy.
"No, I was just thinking about Sharon Stone's breasts." He finally stopped staring and turned to look at me. The taste of bitter coffee mixed with alcohol in his mouth made me feel a little sick.
"Look at that ice pick, does it look like a genital."
"You mean, хуй?"
I still know the word.
"Yes." I answered him.
"Is your хуй that thin?" He suddenly laughed, as if to spit out the cocktail in his mouth.
"I don't mean the shape, but the meaning." I ignored his mockery. Wowa is a straight person, I like straight people. "If the genitals are only that thin, it's ED."
"What is ED?" He suddenly became interested.
"Erectile Dysfunction." This seems to be the best medical term I remember.
"Что?" He was puzzled.
I took out the phone in my pocket and looked up the words skillfully. I'm used to talking to Russians with this nasty thing.
"Мужская импотенция?" I pointed to the words on the screen.
He suddenly burst out laughing like an old man with a stroke.
I calmly watched him laugh more and more exaggeratedly, and even everyone around looked over.
After a long laugh, he turned to me: "Tell me, ED boy. What's your point."
I held the glass in my hand and shook it, trying to make the ice melt faster and dilute the intense sweetness.
"Desire." The cold side of the glass made my hands numb. "Ice picks are like desires, piercing our fragile sanity. Or a symbol of male genitalia, which is sexual desire."
"I don't think an ice pick can represent desire." His smile remained on his face, like the aftermath of a big laugh.
"Look at this symbol." I drew a Roman male symbol on the phone screen, a circle, an arrow.
"Isn't that a spear?"
"Yes, also desire. Some people say that this symbol is actually a symbol of male genitalia."
"Then what does this have to do with movies?" Volwa is a smart person, but sometimes he is too lazy to think. After all, he can deceive many times of sex life with his face.
"To be honest, when I was watching that movie, I barely had an erection." I thought about it and looked up the words again. "эрекция."
"Because of ED?" He laughed again.
"No, because of fear. Although I admit, I'm a lustless person." My eyes were fixed on him, my face ashen. "When her quivering breasts and plump buttocks swayed on a man, it seemed all was well. Sexual abuse and feminist sex positions, but there was a dichotomy between men and women."
"Then what?" Volwa tried to recall the scene in the movie.
"When the ice pick of desire appeared, I knew that desire would become a weapon for killing people at the highest moment. Although I am not afraid of death." I took a sip of wine, and it finally faded.
"not understand."
"The moment of orgasm is always so quick and so fleeting. If you want to preserve that supreme orgasm, dying in the middle of it is probably the longest-lasting way."
I think of "In the realm of the senses", of men and women's nostalgia for orgasm, of women strangling a man with silk, leaving him to die in bliss, and the cut off erect penis.
"But the men in the movie were not killed voluntarily." Volwa's eyes turned pale.
"Who knows," I replied nonchalantly. "Maybe while they resisted, they were grateful to die in a warm vagina."
Volwa stopped talking at all, I guess because he couldn't find the right English words to refute me. If my Russian had been better, he might have talked to me.
"Are you promoting an ascetic life like a monk?"
"No, no, you misunderstood me." I drank the wine in one gulp. Although the ice cubes diluted the sweetness, it also made the mojito lose its original taste. "First, I'm a pessimist, second, I'm an existentialist, and third, I'm ED." I smiled at him. "So, I'm just not interested in hormonal release."
I fish out the cherries from the wine glass and put them in my mouth. The cherries were soaked and tasteless.
"Bastard, you're going to make me ED." He patted me on the shoulder.
"I'm leaving." I picked up my wallet. "This ghost place is too far from my house."
"Are you coming next week?" He waved to me.
"Who knows, we'll talk about it next week." I bowed to him. "By the way, if you have the resources of "basic instinct", please send it to me, I suddenly want to read it again."
"Okay, bye."
Volwa's blond hair is still so neat. Wish him an ecstasy tonight.
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