Free Twilight in Djakarta by Mochtar Lubis Page B

warmth of Dahlia’s body flowed into his own.
    Dahlia drew him by his hand into an inside room. She locked the door of the room. The bedroom was very neat. The sheets on the bed were clean and white and freshly laid. In the corner stood a dressing-table. Dahlia closed the window and quickly started to undress.
    ‘You are really beautiful!’ said Suryono a few moments later. Sometime later Suryono loosened his embrace on Dahlia, rolled over to the edge of the bed and reached for a cigarette on the bedside table.
    ‘Cigarette?’ he asked Dahlia.
    She nodded.
    He lit a cigarette, gave it to her and then lit one for himself. Dahlia, rolling over, nestled her head between Suryono’s shoulder and neck, and whispered,
    ‘You’re so strong!’
    Suryono was quiet. He felt very pleased. He’d had many such experiences since he had become an importer. But this time it was really exceptionally good. Usually there was preliminary haggling. Always these money negotiations. For him, the mention of money beforehand always spoiled the later pleasure. He much preferred to pay more afterwards, provided the woman did not start by discussing prices as if she were nothing but a trader.
    This time, from the beginning, not a word had been said about money. He decided for himself that he would give Dahlia a round five hundred rupiah. But not yet, a little later. He had no desire to go home now. Let it get dark first.
    ‘How long may we stay here?’ he whispered to Dahlia.
    ‘As long as we like,’ answered Dahlia.
    ‘Till dark,’ Suryono decided.
    But they didn’t stay on until dark. An hour afterwards Suryono felt that he’d had enough, and invited Dahlia to go home.
    When they had dressed Suryono asked Dahlia how much he owed Tante Bep.
    ‘Fifty rupiah,’ said Dahlia.
    Suryono took out a fifty-rupiah bill, handed it to Dahlia. As she moved to leave the room he held her back, took out five one-hundred- rupiah notes.
    ‘And this is for you!’ he said.
    Dahlia looked at him and said, ‘I’m not asking for money.’
    ‘Yes, I know. But do accept this!’ pressed Suryono.
    Dahlia smiled at him, embraced his body and kissed his mouth.
    ‘You really are a sweet boy,’ she whispered.
    Suryono brought Dahlia to her house, and in answer to his question when they would meet again, Dahlia said,
    ‘Now you know where my house is. Come and ask!’
    Dahlia stood at the fence until Suryono’s car disappearedbehind the street corner, and then hastened to her room.
    ‘Aduh, what a chic escort you had, his car is quite new,’ called Hasnah, shaking her head as soon as Dahlia appeared on the verandah.
    Dahlia, turning towards her, said, smiling,
    ‘A new friend, Has!’
City Report
    In a room of the Asrama 1 of the organisation for delinquent children Sung Tjay-Yong, sixteen years of age, with an intent expression on his face, was signing a confession, witnessed by the administrator of that welfare organisation and a few other persons of the Asrama:
     
    ‘… I, Sung Tjay-Yong, aged sixteen, residing at Halimun Street, declare herewith in the presence of the Asrama Administrator as follows: I had not attended school for five months; thereafter I attended a mechanic’s school at Gang Spoor, in Kemajoran, paying sixty rupiah a month. Then I left that school also. I have companions, one, Ali, thirty years old, bicycle guard in front of the Roxy Cinema, who claims to be a member of the veteran’s organisation, on night duty. And I have known him one week. My other friend is named Idruss, aged thirty-five, residing in Djembatan Merah, and he told me he was a member of K.M.K.B.; 2 also O Bung, a locally born Chinese who lives in Djatinegara and works in Pasar Baru, dealing in foreign exchange; and Sapii, who lives in Gang Mandur, a member of the night watchmen. The four of them usually kept asking me for money. Sapii once ordered me to steal money and things from my parents, and it was Sapii who sold them. I have stolen from my parents seven