The boys crowded around the instructor. “Dzavashvili has a condom,” Matytsyn said. “I saw.” “One?” Fidel asked. “Oh look, a scholar!” Volikov said, getting angry. “This one needs his own private condom! You’ll wait your turn.” “A lowly condom won’t help,” Matytsyn assured them. “I know these floozies. They’ve got as many gonococci down there as dogs. Now, if it were made of stainless steel…”
