13: Prague Diary

That day we had goulash soup for lunch, it was gorgeous and very filling. We needed to work that lot off, so what choice did we have but to go back to the hotel and have sex all afternoon? After that we lay on the bed with an earpiece each and listened to Jewel’s Pieces of You album followed by more Waters. His music will always and forever remind me of our time in Prague.

Because we’d had little luck with wild nights out, and because we’d had a good time the night before, and because it was our last night, we opted to do similar to the previous night. Near to Dominoes there were two middle of the road restaurants. They weren’t as posh as the one the night before but they weren’t the feed-the-dossers-and-then-fill-them-with-ale-for-coppers places, either.

They both had delicious menus posted outside to attract punters and they both looked nice but the name of one did it for me. I so wanted to come home and write about eating in the Dog’s Bollocks. The choice was made and it was a good one. I wore my new purple pants, the same ones that I wanted to burn the day before and I felt as good as I had in all the time we’d been there.

Inside we were actually shown to a table, but only because we hadn’t seen the notice and plonked ourselves down on one that had been reserved. The place was nice but nowhere near as classy as the restaurant of the night before. I really liked it and felt comfortable there. We ordered drinks and got what we asked for. Any barman who can tell his vodka from his whiskey gets my vote. The man who tended us was young and cute and pleasant enough. He handed us the locally written, pigeon English menus. How could anybody resist a big piece of cow or even better, a large piece of pig’s bottom, no? How about a battered chicken chest flesh? I loved that menu.

Russ was smitten; the big piece of cow was just too much of a challenge to deny. What he actually got was not one but two huge sirloin fillets cooked to melting perfection. They were absolutely gorgeous and even put the meal the night before to shame. It came with fried potatoes and a huge side dish of salad.

I knew exactly what I wanted after my small taster of the night before. I didn’t give a damn about the chicken and only ordered that to be polite. What I wanted and craved with an intensity that scared me –pregnancy, what pregnancy? — was my boiled rice and basil sauce—I was joking about the pregnancy by the way—It wasn’t quite as good as the night before but it was still bloody good. After I’d given Russ two thirs and almost all of my chicken, I had a couple of bites then stopped for a rest and the waiter instantly appeared. I hastily picked up my fork. This wasn’t to give the impression that I was still eating, it was to stab the bastard with if he came within five foot of my plate.

We ate, paid, and made our way to Dominoes for our last ever visit. I couldn’t believe it; we walked in and got a smile and wave from the staff. It was our last night and finally we’d received a tiny gesture of friendliness. It had taken a whole week and now, just as we were leaving, we’d received some kind of recognition. In a way it saddened me. I think I’d rather have left with them still blanking us. We had to go home the next day and that night we were greeted by name. Throughout the week I’d made a point of talking to the staff even though they were cool with us. I asked their names and at the end of the evening I always thanked them by name and made a point of remembering them the next time we went in.

Some more Brits came in and made a beeline for us. We sat and chatted for about an hour before they moved on. We were invited to join them but I didn’t want to intrude.

You could have picked me up from the floor when I was talking to Johan and he pointed to a sign written in Checz, ‘Eez for yob,’
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about us, we aren’t yobs. We won’t cause you any trouble.’ I smiled but was offended; we’d been going in all week and hadn’t been rowdy at all.
‘Yob,’ he repeated, ‘yob.’ He made an exaggerated show of pulling a pint. ‘Eeglish come in Domeenoos, you serve. Eenglish you like, you good lady. You talk with. Season in one, two, three weeks. You stay Praha, you yob.’

I couldn’t believe that he was offering me a job. I laughed and said all the right things. There was the flat for rent, now I’d been offered a job. Was providence trying to tell me something? The more I thought about it the more I thought it was what I was meant to do. It was my next life step. I couldn’t take that job, of course, Russ would find me, but in three weeks the city would be crawling with Brits, there were other bars.

Because we had a long day coming up we didn’t want a very late night. Apart from which I had other plans. Up until then Russ hadn’t fulfilled my fantasy of taking me from behind on the balcony. Neither had he made exceptional love to me in the romantic grounds of the castle at night. I fully intended that at least one of those oversights be put right before we left.

I talk a good talk.

By the time we’d trammed back to the hotel, froze half to death, climbed the three hundred million stairs to our room because throughout the holiday I had flatly refused to use the lift, I was knackered. I’d got Russ all fired up about the idea of walking up to the castle to make love. Now I was lying on the warm, soft bed and it all seemed like too much effort. Bugger, I tried to talk him into a quickie on the balcony but he was having none of it and there was no choice but to get up and go back out into the cold, bugger. What had seemed like a good idea an hour earlier, really wasn’t a good idea now.

He was ready to go but I had to give some consideration to the logistics of the operation. I needed quick release clothing. Five minutes later I’d washed, dressed and was ready. This time nobody could ever mistake me for a high class hooker. I was pure, two bit street girl. I wore a black mini skirt that I use over my bikini when I’m sunbathing. I had my black schoolgirl pumps in case we had to make a quick getaway, running isn’t my forte. I didn’t have on any underwear and it was damned cold out there, so, doing away with any illusion of seductress I went back and put on pair of socks. Getting the picture? I was a hunny. My top half was covered with a long grey woolly jumper and a thick winter jacket. If the fashion police had seen me I’d have been shot. Once we started the walk up the steep hill we soon warmed up so at least my oceans of exposed legs weren’t blue with the cold. I just hoped that we wouldn’t meet another human being while I looked so ridiculous.

Like the last time we’d been there at night the castle grounds were still open to the public and yet, walking through the huge stone gate, it felt like trespass being in there. I was disappointed to find that the beautiful old church yard was closed and locked for the night. It would have been my choice to make love in there amongst the grave stones. I know that sounds like disrespect and blasphemy but for me it isn’t a shock or titillation thing. It’s something spiritual about making love on consecrated ground. I firmly believe that church yards, monasteries and abbeys have a special serenity about them and sex within their grounds can only ever be something special.

Although we’d gone up there with the sole purpose of carnal pleasure in mind we took some beautiful night times pictures of the grounds and spectacular vistas which also gave us a respectable cover while we looked for somewhere discrete to ‘be’. This was more difficult than I’d expected. I’d figured that given the isolation of the place and the time of night that we’d be completely alone …not so. What we hadn’t realised is that within the castle grounds there is at least one, if not two busy taverns. These were still going strong and though we didn’t actually pass or see many people close to us we could hear them and were aware of them being all around.

We climbed a fence and found somewhere sheltered and off the public walkways. But, when we looked up, the huge wall directly behind us had a turreted walkway and anybody peering over the side would have an ample view of two scantily clad tourists taking of each other’s bodies. We walked further along until we found a niche in the banking where we would be sheltered.

Sex was what we’d come for and the mood had got to me. I had no underwear on which on a chilly night can feel quite sexy without any other mental stimulation. I leaned back against a three barred metal fence while Russ knelt in front of me. Because it was cold and because we were potentially not as private as I’d like us to be I didn’t come because I didn’t want to be spending hours up there and was quite keen to get own to business.

I pulled him up, undid his belt and dropped his jeans—he never wears underwear—a quick stroke told me that he was ready. I climbed up on the top bar of the fence positioned myself comfortably. Now we had a problem. Russ is only short and couldn’t reach. I had to come down to earth and just leaned back against the fence. Russ can be easily distracted when it comes to matters sexual. For instance, if he gets cramp he’ll lose his erection, or if we’re at home and the lodger comes up the stairs and we have to stop and be quiet for a couple of minutes, he’ll loose it. With trying to gain access and not being able to reach and then us repositioning and then hearing lots of voices and noise, he went limp. It wasn’t a problem I led him over to a patch of grass and lay down. He sat on top of me and with my mouth I soon had him back up to full potential. He slipped inside me easily; I was very ready to make love with him. It was okay for a couple of minutes or so and then we heard a load of people coming out of the pub and making their way towards us. Russ had to go and look up, didn’t he? He was convinced that when he did he was going to see people looking over the ramparts at us. I would be horrified if we’d been caught but just the idea that we might be only turned me on all the more. I had an orgasm while he was telling me that maybe we’d better stop- before somebody did catch us. He went limp the mood was broken and that was that.

I was disappointed. I’d wanted our final night in Prague and our final bout of sex to be something special. I wanted to make sexual memories that we’d never forget. What should have been sensual had become sordid and all about not getting caught. Russ was completely uncomfortable and turned off, which upset me. But it also surprised me because he’s always been very outgoing and uninhibited when it comes to sex. Soon after we got together I masturbated him in the car while his neighbours were passing with dogs and he couldn’t get enough of it. I didn’t instigate that, he did. I thought he’d be well up for what we’d planned. And he was until he heard voices and got put off and distracted. I wanted it to be sweet love and walking back down the hill, looking like a dirty hooker it just felt sordid and nasty. We went back to the hotel and had safe sex with no risk element involved.