All That Man Is by David Szalay Page A

Bérnard says, ‘I know. We put the mattress on the floor, okay?’
    They stand up and start to move the mattress onto the floor.
    Bérnard’s aching erection knocks against his stomach as he struggles with his end of the mattress.
    They put it down on the brown tiles.
    For a moment she stands there, in the veiled light, naked, looking like a huge melted candle, all drips and slumps of round-shaped waxy flesh. Pendulous surrenders. Those pale pink nipples the size of his face. There is just so much of her, it seems to him, standing at his end, stunned by how much he wants her now, so much of her, a quantity of woman nearly equal, if that were possible, to his need to possess it, physically, in every way imaginable. Though in fact at this moment that need seems infinite. His member nodding, his lungs pulling at the air, it seems that there is nothing else to him, that that is all he is.
    She takes her place on the mattress.
    And then it starts.
    *
    It lasts all afternoon, and into the evening. The light softens in the folds of the curtains. Finally they sleep for a while, and when he opens his eyes, she is dressing herself. Though she is wearing her shirt, she seems to be naked from the waist down.
    â€˜What time is it?’ he asks.
    â€˜Seven,’ she says. ‘You coming to supper?’
    She pulls one of the curtains open and admits a wedge of light in which she immediately finds her enormous knickers. Sitting heavily on the second bed, she manoeuvres them on.
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ Bérnard says. He is lying naked on the mattress on the floor, supine. Worn out by orgasms – at least five of them, he isn’t sure exactly how many – he feels sleepy and immobile. The idea of dressing, of dragging himself down to the dining room, seems impossible.
    â€˜Fair enough,’ Charmian says, working her jeans on now.
    â€˜I’ll see you later then?’ she says, when she is dressed, and standing at the door.
    â€˜Yes, see you,’ Bérnard says.
    When she has left, he lies there still, the air warm on his skin, his eyes fixed on the soiled paintwork of the ceiling as darkness slowly hides it.
    Sounds arrive at the window
    a moped’s noisy whirr
    a snatch of music
    very distant shouts

7
    At lunch the next day he is shy and embarrassed. The women are normal, the same as always. Charmian, focusing on the food, hardly says anything, hardly looks at him. Sandra talks. She says, ‘You weren’t at the pool this morning, Bernard.’
    He says he went to the beach.
    â€˜Was that nice?’ Sandra asks.
    He says it was.
    â€˜We don’t really like the sea, do we?’
    Charmian says, trying to force some last strings of meat from a scrawny, bleeding chicken leg, ‘It’s okay.’
    â€˜I’m scared of sharks,’ Sandra says.
    â€˜That is not a problem here, I think,’ Bérnard tells her.
    Sandra is adamant – ‘Oh, there are sharks here. And anyway I always end up with my knickers full of sand. Sand everywhere. You know what I mean? Still finding it when we get home. Still finding it
weeks
later.’
    â€˜Okay,’ Bérnard says.
    â€˜They sorted out your shower yet?’ she asks him.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜
No?
It’s just disgraceful. You need to be more assertive, Bernard.’
    â€˜Yes,’ he agrees, ‘I think so …’
    â€˜You’ve been here nearly a week now and they still haven’t sorted it out. It’s just not acceptable.’
    â€˜No.’
    Bérnard looks shyly at Charmian again. She seems to be avoiding his eye.
    â€˜We’re going horse-riding this afternoon,’ Sandra announces, improbably.
    â€˜Horse-riding?’
    â€˜Yes. Our rep sorted it out for us.’
    â€˜There is horse-riding?’ Bérnard asks.
    â€˜Apparently.’
    After lunch, while they wait in the lobby, Bérnard says to Charmian, ‘I will see you later? You will come