“You should visit brothel,” Vashka said with a snoot and a whistle. He shrugged.
“I don’t do prostitutes,” Wojo said. He blushed. “Sawry, I just — I don’t like to treat a woman like that.” He scuffed his feet. “Women are… Women should be nice. Like mad, you’know, nice. Like a princess.” He looked down cuz he knew Vashka was gonna cackle him up over that.
Vashka put out a barrel laugh as he finished his reps, and Wojo took his place on the bench-press bench. Vashka said, “Is not nice women, not the marry kind, not like wife. You should do. They are…” He added a sound effect, the gist of which, Wojo gathered, was that prostitutes were merely a warm orifice for a man to use and abuse, that manhood required utilization and hierarchy to embody itself lest its precariousness lead to subordination and that empathy for fallen women marked a man as weak and vincible.
Wojo did not see women that way. But he was in a Russian gym right now, very possibly surrounded by Russian gangsters, so Wojo just shrugged and did his bench presses. He matched Vashka’s weight, which he did not struggle to lift. It activated the pain in his shoulder though. He didn’t let it show, lest Vashka take it as a sign of weakness.
They kept talking about women as they worked through their weightlifting, and Wojo was casual but noncommittal. He wanna point out that prostitution was a sin, and the Bible and all that, it don’t allow the premaritals. But the Russians were Christians too, and he had a feeling they wouldn’t respond well to their own religion being explained to them. So Wojo carefully avoided saying anything bad about those who visit prostitutes.
He didn’t like it though. Wojo thought women should be princesses, not whores. No, queens!
From Wojo the Bricklayer
From Wojo the Bricklayer