The broad windows showed the skyline of the town, a thick mass of tall buildings without any architectonic interest. The vertical noon sunlight reflected dryly on the surface of the towers. Outside it had to be unbearably hot. Inside, however, the air conditioner was blowing a fresh breeze, something reminiscent of a Parisian spring.

— “You must agree, Silva, that fifty thousand reais is quite a lot of money.”

Mr. Souza Jr. talked with his disconcerting calm. The son of a bitch was even smiling, though it was quite clear by now that I had absolutely no means to pay the debt. Anyway, “a lot of money” is a relative concept. I agreed, indeed, that for me it was a small fortune. For him, it was more like spare change.

— “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Souza. I guess I just need more time.”

He actually laughed. He was not a handsome man: he was shorter than me by half a foot, he was slightly overweight and his features were plain. At the age of 35, just two years my senior, he looked much older, with a large bald spot in the middle of a sparse shrub of dull brown hair, and an impressive collection of expression lines, effect of the merciless tropical sun on a skin which knew no sunscreen. His smile, however, was very seductive, two rows of white teeth whose perfect alignment was certainly the work of a skilled orthodontist. A smile that always extended to his brown eyes, which gleamed as if alight by an internal fire.

— “Now, now, come on. I don’t think time will make any difference. We agreed on a due date, which was three months ago. You asked for 30 more days, and I agreed, because, well, this is not fucking England and a month more, a month less, who cares? Then you asked for another month, and I started to get annoyed, but since you are a filmmaker, I was lenient, considering you artists have your heads in the clouds. But when you asked for another extension, I thought it was time to do my homework.” He handed me some papers. “I have been investigating your financial situation. Putting it kindly, you are bankrupt.”

I moved on the chair, uncomfortable.

— “Well, Mr. Souza, this is perhaps a harsh way to view things. The short has been acclaimed by the critics. You certainly have heard about the Gramado Festival? Unfortunately, I expected that this success would jump-start the interest of a studio in producing a long subject movie with our material, and this has not yet proven true.”

Mr. Souza clasped his hands and assumed a paternal tone:

— “This is indeed most unfortunate. When you came to borrow the money, I remember to have warned you about the risks, and you were very nonchalant about it. Even when I told you about poor Moreira, which was found out dead floating on the lake at the central park.”

He was not smiling anymore.

— “Mr. Souza…”, my voice went very hoarse.

— “Now, it is not something I like to do, but if we start letting people go away with unpaid debts, they may think we are operating some kind of charity, which we are not, as father was too kind to remember me just this Sunday in front of all the family.”

I went very pale. If Mr. Souza Jr. had already to bear sermons from his father, it was a miracle I was still alive.

— “I am deeply sorry,” was all I found to say.

— “Oh, I bet you are. And you will be still sorrier. But, for heavens sake, don’t faint in my office. It will only annoy me more. I think we can solve this matter without putting you to sleep.”

He reached into one of his desks drawers and produced a thin leather box, obviously containing some piece of jewelry.

— “Father gave me this watch last year, for Christmas. Old man cares about those stuff. It costs more than a good apartment, and yet I never use it.”

I looked over his wrists and remarked that he didn’t use any watch, cheap or expensive. He handed me the little box. It contained the most beautiful golden watch, with a black leather watchband.

— “The watchband is not original,” he continued. “Actually, it is the eight or ninth I tried without success. I can’t stand the contact of the watchband with my wrists, don’t know why.”

Some humorous thoughts about an unconscious phobia of handcuffs crossed my mind, but I decided to keep them for myself.

— “Father has been looking disappointed every time he sees me without this damn watch,” he said with a sight. “Since you were the reason of his latest admonition, I think it is fair that you help me to compensate for it.”

I looked puzzled.

— “How exactly…”

— “All in good time.”

He pressed a button on his communicator and talked to his secretary.

— “Renata, please send Mr. Dias in.” He hesitated for a second. “Send Chicão also.”

The presence of Chicão didn’t hint good news for me. He was one of the bodyguards of Mr. Souza Jr., a wall of muscles, as wide as he was tall, ready to materialize any painful intent of his master.

Mr. Dias, however, didn’t seem like a threat. It was a thin old man, which looked much more an accountant than a torturer. Mr. Souza did the presentations:

— “Silva, this is Mr. Dias, he is a tanner and a craftsman, the best one in the state. He’s been trying to solve my little problem. Mr. Dias, this is Silva, which will give us the material.”

As I was still puzzled, Mr. Dias started to explain:

— “Well, it all started as joke. As we progressed from leather to leather, trying each time a softer material, I told him ‘softer than this, only the skin of a man’s dick’.”

As I finally understood and gaped in horror, both roared with laughter.

— “Now,” said Mr. Souza, “pull that thing out for Mr. Dias to take a look.”

I hesitated for a while, but as Chicão cleared his throat in a very significant way, I hastily opened my flier and took my cock for the examination. It was a pitiful spectacle. My member, which normally is 7” long when hard, and at least 4” when flaccid, looked tiny. It was as if fear was trying to pull the thing inside me.

Mr. Dias looked it with professional eyes.

— “May I?”, he asked and started to handle it, pulling it, and looking intently at every square inch of skin.

After several minutes he nodded approvingly.

— “The skin is indeed very soft and very elastic. He is not circumcised, so there are no scars. There should be enough material to make two or three high-quality wristbands.” and turning to me. “There aren’t any scratches or weakened points. You must be very careful when you masturbate.”

— “Haven’t been masturbating lately.” I said in a glooming tone. “Too many worries.”

— “Then you shouldn’t do it until the harvest. Actually you shouldn’t have sex at all. Any scratch on the skin will be permanent once it is dead and tanned.”

The perspective of loosing my member without even a goodbye jerk-off didn’t improve my mood.

— “This shouldn’t be a problem,” intervened Mr. Souza. “I’ll call the clinic and schedule the surgery for this evening.”

— “This evening!”

— “The sooner the better. If you stay too much with my leather, you my get tempted to have fun with it and ruin it. Then I would be forced to resort to much more drastic measures to solve my problem with you.”

Though he kept his voice calm and even, the implications were clear. I made no more objections.

— “All right then. Thank you, Mr. Dias, I’ll have the skin sent to your atelier tomorrow. Chicão, you’ll drive him to the clinic this evening, and then home next morning. I’ll have one more word with you, Silva, and then you can stay with Chicão, who will be keeping an eye on you.”

As soon as Mr. Dias and Chicão left, I collapsed in my chair and covered my face with my hands.

— “Come on!”, said Mr. Souza jovially, “Rumors are that you were fooling around with that hottie actress from your short, forgot her name…”

— “Tânia Rodrigues,” I said in a small voice.

— “Exactly! Well, at least you had a nice goodbye.”

— “If I knew it was a goodbye I would have enjoyed it more.”

— “Such is life, we come to appreciate things more once we lose them.”

— “Mr. Souza, with all due respect, I don’t understand what you gain by depriving me of my sex life. It seems like one of those transactions where everybody loses, since fifty thousand is really too little to compensate a man for the lost of his penis, but an awfully high price to pay for a wristband.”

He assumed again his paternal tone:

— “If it works and I can tolerate wearing the watch, I’ll be more than happy with the investment. But even if it is one more leather strap to throw in the trash it will be worthy.”

— “How so?”, I asked, repressing the thought of my membrum virile being thrown unceremoniously in the trash.

— “Well, I have other sums of money lent to people. Large sums of money. Once I slip to those people your unfortunate story, I expect they will be more attentive to pay in time. It is all a matter of psychology. And besides…”

— “Yes?”

— “Oh, it is a little naughty of me, but… well, I told you we come to appreciate things more once we lose them. It is also true that we appreciate things by contrast with the misfortune of others. I mean, I can’t help but think of all the beautiful women I’ll be fucking while you…”

And he smiled matter-of-factly, without mockery.

— “Well, Chicão will be waiting for you outside. You know that we have a library at the 5th floor? Complete with those multimedia stations and everything. We have to keep our image of progressive entrepreneurs. Your wait should be of at most a few hours.”

And I understood myself dismissed.

* * *

I couldn’t, however, concentrate enough to read anything, and I browsed the web randomly. Perhaps there was something interesting about penisless men. Did they manage to have orgasms somehow? Did they have wet dreams at night? Did they succeed in finding girlfriends? How did they deal with sexual frustration? The stupid “multimedia station”, however, had one of those censorship filters, and I couldn’t get anything useful. Well, I would have enough time to do my research. Penislessness is a lifetime condition.

As the hours passed I became more and more aware of my cock. Normally it seemed such an integral part of me that I thought of it only when I was pissing, I was fucking or I was jerking off. Would I be aware of its absence, or with time not having a cock would seem just as natural as having one?

* * *

At seven fifteen Chicão asked me very politely to accompany him. We drove to the outskirts of the town, not near any hospital or medical center I knew. Evidently we were heading towards some sort of clandestine clinic. We parked at the limits of a favela, and entered an ugly two-story building. “Great!”, I thought, “I’ll have my cock chopped at a butchery, where if I don’t die of hemorrhage, I am certain to die of infection.”

Once inside, however, I was relieved to notice that the place was clean and organized. There was someone waiting for us, a young woman, looking very professional.

— “Mr. Silva, penectomy?”

Chicão looked puzzled. He obviously didn’t understand the word “penectomy”.

— “Yes.” I confirmed.

— “I am nurse Ângela. Please, come with me.”

The nurse leaded us to a room where a mid-aged woman was already waiting. She presented herself as doctor Lúcia, and went to perform a long anamnesis, asking me for prior surgeries, drugs I took regularly, known medical conditions. She took my blood pressure, my temperature, and made a through auscultation.

Even in my gloomy mood, I was a little amused.

— “The service is much better than the one I get from my health insurance.”

Dr. Lúcia smiled.

— “Well, this is a very expensive private clinic. Besides, as we operate… well… extra-officially, we try as hard as possible to avoid any complications.”

Dr. Lúcia left the office with instructions for nurse Ângela to prepare me for the surgery. As she was shaving my crotch I couldn’t help but having a raging hard on. I was terribly embarrassed, but she acted very professionally. Only when she had finished, she suggested:

— “Don’t you want to go to the bathroom and relieve yourself one last time.”

— “He can’t.” Chicão intervened. “Orders from the boss.”

— “Oh, what a shame! To let a friend go without properly saying goodbye.” she said with a hint of malice.

I was left to wonder how much did those women knew about the whole affair. Through her mask of professionalism and objectivity, I felt that Dr. Lúcia was in reality, penalized to inflict me that cruel punishment. Nurse Ângela, on the other side, couldn’t completely hide her amusement. Perhaps she though I was having what I deserved.

After a few more preparations, I was ready to enter the operating room. Besides the Dr. Lúcia and nurse Ângela, there was a male doctor, the anesthesist. Dr. Lúcia had already explained me:

— “We will operate on epidural anesthesia, to avoid the risks of general anesthesia. Also we prefer you to be awake. You should feel a little tugging, but no pain. The surgery will be simple, because we are not rerouting your urethra. Fortunately, we were allowed to live a half inch stump, which shall be enough for you to urinate comfortably.”

For a “simple surgery”, it took a long time, at least it seemed to. From my position I could see nothing, but I felt a great deal of tugging and heard the clasping of metal as the small team divided my body in two, separating me from what had been, for the last 20 years, my main source of pleasure.

Finally the team congratulated themselves and I understood my fate to be sealed. They took me back to a room where I immediately fell asleep, afraid of what I was to feel once the anesthesia faded.

* * *

Next morning I woke up with a dull pain in my crotch and a terrible headache. I ringed the bell for the nurse, which was answered in a matter of minutes by a handsome young man:

— “How are you feeling today, Mr. Silva?”

— “What do you think?”

— “I know.” he smiled. “But if it makes you feel better, penectomy is something we perform routinely at the clinic, and as far as we know most patients eventually get used to it.”

— “Most patients? Eventually?”

— “Well, it’s a great loss. There is a mourning period, like for a deceased friend.”

— “You said you perform it routinely at the clinic?”

— “Incredibly, yes. Men seem to ignore how dangerous is to get involved with the women of the gangsters. It’s also true that the gangsters are greedy nowadays and have many girls, and it doesn’t help either that the girls are eager to fool around. Your case however is kinda unique.”

— “…?”

— “Your member in exchange for a debt? And to turn it into a wristband? That’s unheard of!”

— “Mr. Souza told you that?”

— “Oh, no! He is very discreet. But Chicão spent the night at the waiting room and couldn’t avoid gossiping with the janitor. You know how those things spread.”

I moaned.

— “I wouldn’t worry too much.” he said, apologetically, “Even if people hear about it, it is so incredible, no one will believe it.”

I decided, for the time being, to accept this. The nurse gave me painkillers and proceeded to show me the results of the operation. I was still covered in bandages, so I couldn’t appreciate the extent of the damages, but the nonattendance of my ever present morning erection was enough to convince me that my little friend was indeed gone for good. From the inside of the bandages it came a clear plastic tube.

— “It’s a catheter.” The nurse explained matter of factly. “It will keep the urethra open. After a few days you can remove it yourself. The doctor will instruct you how to do it.”

He gave me a few instructions, asked if I needed anything else and told me the doctor would see me soon.

* * *

After the interview with Dr. Lúcia, I was free to go. She wished me “good luck” and handed Chicão a small styrofoam box whose contents I suspected was the raw material for Mr. Souza new wristband. He drove me home, parking in front of my building, at an upper middle-class neighborhood of the town. As he opened the door, I gathered courage and asked:

— “Would you let me see it one last time? Please?”

He hesitated for a moment and then reached for the internal pocket of his coat. He opened the box with an expression of disgust and turned it in my direction.

Though the box was not big, it was mostly empty. There were three ice cubes, already half molten, and a lump of skin, which I recognized as my dick. I had only seen it that shriveled once, in a very cold night at Curitiba, when the thermometer marked 16ºF, as I pissed in a pole.

— “Thank you.” I muttered.

He closed the box, put the precious parcel back in the safety of his pocket, and left.

* * *

As I entered home, I considered the necessity to move to a less expensive apartment. With three months of late rent, it wouldn’t take much time for the landlord to kick me out of there.

— “If he doesn’t cut my balls first to make a tobacco case.”

I peered through the letters, mostly bills, and collapsed in the sofa, unable to think about anything.

I noticed that the “incoming messages” light in the answering machine was blinking. I automatically pressed the button.

— “Hello, Mr. Silva. This is Mr. Castro, the landlord…”

Delete.

— “Silvinha? It’s mammy! I am worried sick…”

Delete.

— “Silva, my friend! It’s Fernando! Big party this weekend, those slutty girls…”

Delete!

— “Good morning, M. Silva.” it was a female voice with a thick French accent. I jumped straight in the sofa. “We are sorry to have delayed so much our response, you know that the studio has some subventions from the government, and things get so much complicated in a year of presidential elections. Anyway, M. Renault is very excited about your project and wants to sign the contract as soon as possible. Could you please…”

Oh, the irony!

The voice went on and on for a few minutes, but I wasn’t listening, I was sobbing so hard.

* * *

Two years and half latter I was in the mall, browsing the windows for a pair of shoes. I felt a hand in my shoulder and heard a female voice:

— “I loved your movie! I think you are a genius.”

I turned back to see a beautiful brunette, with generous curves, fair features and a bright smile. She continued:

— “I dragged my husband to watch it with me. He hates reading subtitles, but even so, he liked it very much.”

I turned to take a look at the man and with a startle, I recognized Mr. Souza Jr.

— “Mr. Souza!”

— “Hello, Silva.”

— “You know each other!?” the woman was visibly delighted.

— “We have met.” I replied coldly.

— “Oh, come on!” Mr. Souza’s smile was as warm and captivating as ever. “I know we don’t meet in a long time, but I feel like I carry party of you with me wherever I go.” And as he put his closed fist over his heart, I noticed he was wearing a nice golden watch, with a wide dark leather wristband, which seemed indeed very comfortable.

The woman, thinking he had spoken metaphorically, said to me:

— “You see! He was really touched by your work.”

I decided to put away my animosity. Even though I hated that man for depriving me of an important part of my sex life and of my masculinity, I saw no use in acting acrimoniously. Besides, if I was honest, I had to recognize that I was partially responsible for that situation, when I decided to take the loan.

— “So, you are back in Brazil for good?”, he asked me.

— “Heavens, no! I am just visiting my mother, and buying a few stuff. You can’t imagine how expensive is a pair of shoes in Europe.”

— “From what I’ve heard, money hasn’t been a problem lately?”, he said, smiling.

— “Actually, I’m doing fine, thank you. But I became sort of parsimonious in matters of money. You know, once bitten… But I see that you’ve got married. Congratulations.”

— “Thank you. This is Tereza, by the way.”

We exchanged kisses.

— “What about you, Mr. Silva?” Tereza started. “Have you find love in the Old World?”

To my surprise, Mr. Souza looked embarrassed. He coughed and looked away.

— “Well, Tereza, I didn’t find eternal love yet, but I had found some open-minded women and shared with them a rich relationship, where we have learned to appreciate our qualities… and…”, I searched for the words for a moment, “bypass our deficiencies.”

— “Like every well adjusted relationship.” she completed.

Mr. Souza was smiling again.

— “Silva, you are a great man. Can’t wait to see your next flick. Hope they dub it in Portuguese this time, though!”

— “Oh, honestly!”, protested Tereza.

And we departed amiably. But as they walked away, I decided to look for a few shirts instead and avoid buying anything even remotely related to leather in the next couple of days.