The man behind the large wooden desk sipped on his brandy. One day it would kill him and he knew it, but the surge of power he felt as the liquid transformed into fire inside his body was addictive. How could he let go now? How did he ever stand a chance against it?
The man's secretary was waiting for an answer. He scared her with his silence as he had always done, from the first day she had worked for him and every day since. Outside the office, she was a pretty confident woman, a wife who stood up to her husband and her two loud sons, a friend you could rely on for uncompromising honesty. But in here, power was not hers. It was sucked out of her violently as she stepped over the threshold. Her voice became a whisper and her wits deserted her.
As the man turned to her, she lowered her gaze. She would not want him to take her unflinching stare as a challenge. That would be most unwelcome. And very unprofessional.
The secretary had met his wife. She too was a creature of the dark. Pale as can be she was. And cold like the marble her expensive heels sharply clicked on. Their marriage had been a business deal like any other. The wife's family's company had been in serious financial trouble and she had been ready to sell herself to a loveless life in order to keep the legacy from drowning into irrelevance. And she did, without a moment's hesitation. Neither of them would ever dream of disgracing their arrangement with an affair. And yet, sometimes, the secretary could have sworn that there were suspicious noises coming from the great big cold office opposite hers.
"Do it", he said, his deep, self-assured, crude voice causing the little delicate hairs on the back of her neck to stand up straight in protest. She nodded, eyes held low.
"Do it", he repeated. The calm urgency in his voice was most unusual.
Saturday 20 April 2013
Sunday 7 April 2013
Harlot Set Up (follows "From A Man")
"I was with my girlfriend of two years, meeting a few of our mutual friends in a bar in New York. I was on a business trip and she decided to join me. She had never been to New York. Really all she wanted was to have her picture taken on 5th Avenue. Like a real Italian tourist.
But no matter, back to October and that night.
We went to a truly curious place. I can't even remember its name. All I recall are the expensive cocktails and the English porcelain tea sets. A waiter came up to us and asked one of our friends something, to which he nodded and gave the waiter a 100 dollar bill. He's rich, he could afford it. The waiter's smile suddenly looked real and soon he was flashing his fake pearly whites, escorting us through the bar, down to what at first glance looked like an unused wine cellar. I thought he might murder us, or rob us, or something along those nasty lines. Instead, he opened a passage into one of the wine vaults. We passed through there, suddenly aware that at the end of this mystery trail there was sultry jazz music playing. What was this? A sex club? Burlesque? Illegal poker game? Time travel even? I was drunk on excitement. My girlfriend, lovely as always, was dubious.
We turned a corner and found ourselves in an underground, 1930s inspired club. The little booths that you would expect to find in a gangster film had been turned into large divans, where people gathered to admire each other's beauty.
And there she was.
October."
E.
But no matter, back to October and that night.
We went to a truly curious place. I can't even remember its name. All I recall are the expensive cocktails and the English porcelain tea sets. A waiter came up to us and asked one of our friends something, to which he nodded and gave the waiter a 100 dollar bill. He's rich, he could afford it. The waiter's smile suddenly looked real and soon he was flashing his fake pearly whites, escorting us through the bar, down to what at first glance looked like an unused wine cellar. I thought he might murder us, or rob us, or something along those nasty lines. Instead, he opened a passage into one of the wine vaults. We passed through there, suddenly aware that at the end of this mystery trail there was sultry jazz music playing. What was this? A sex club? Burlesque? Illegal poker game? Time travel even? I was drunk on excitement. My girlfriend, lovely as always, was dubious.
We turned a corner and found ourselves in an underground, 1930s inspired club. The little booths that you would expect to find in a gangster film had been turned into large divans, where people gathered to admire each other's beauty.
And there she was.
October."
E.
From A Man
"My heroine this time around is called October.
We went to High School together and we were in love. At least that's what we told each other and anyone that would listen. She had dark red hair if I remember correctly and would dress mostly in black, as if that would keep the dark spirits that circled her at bay.
I lied to her when the flame had burned out.
I avoided her when her love for me became too much.
Then, I left the private school to go to a public one. I changed without realizing and I stuck to that person that I had become. She tried, she really did, to bring back the person she knew best. But she never could, and so we saw each other occasionally, kissing under a beach hut in the rain, while our respective girlfriends and boyfriends were clueless. That became a different type of love and we never told anyone any more.
She left the country after she finished High School. And I didn't see her again. Until two nights ago.."
E.
We went to High School together and we were in love. At least that's what we told each other and anyone that would listen. She had dark red hair if I remember correctly and would dress mostly in black, as if that would keep the dark spirits that circled her at bay.
I lied to her when the flame had burned out.
I avoided her when her love for me became too much.
Then, I left the private school to go to a public one. I changed without realizing and I stuck to that person that I had become. She tried, she really did, to bring back the person she knew best. But she never could, and so we saw each other occasionally, kissing under a beach hut in the rain, while our respective girlfriends and boyfriends were clueless. That became a different type of love and we never told anyone any more.
She left the country after she finished High School. And I didn't see her again. Until two nights ago.."
E.
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