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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170899
by Gotee
Rated: GC · Draft · Thriller/Suspense · #2170899
a tale in the works


No description or account is needed of the establishment I enter. Whether it be whorehouse or church the result is the same; the rooms temperature increases in proportion to the number of bodies present. This adjustment in temperature is traceable directly to me. The cause is my physical beauty. I am aware of the conceit in that statement but I say it with total humility, it is simply a fact. Since my adolescence I have been a unique attraction to most of the people I meet; an acute desire manifesting in human form. It is a desire which has on occasion transformed into madness. I am often appraised in the most audacious ways. Usually by those whose privilege allows them to succumb, willingly, to unrestricted self indulgence. Women have exposed their bodies to me with no inducement on my part. This is often accompanied by articulated demonstrations of their pliability. Men have been just as brazen, if not as quick to reveal their essentials. I have long since past the point of embarrassment. I view it as part of the game. The manner in which all who choose to play this game differs in approach as well as reward. I am often invited to places where I am told there will be in attendance those sorts of people whom I should regard as opportunities. I am assured again, my life will be much more fulfilling should I use my skills and natural assets to take advantage of these opportunities. Of this there is no doubt. It is a fact that my life will be made more comfortable should I acquire and establish such relationships. I do not question this for a moment for I have taken that road. I am familiar, but not fond of the dubious rewards awaiting my success. These rewards range on a tall vertical chart from highly envious positions of money and status, to the more subtle position of full time companion with all my needs, wants, and desires just a motion of hand away. To the ordinary man or woman this may seem the pinnacle of life's ambition. I don't judge those who believe this. It is not a fault in character of any who hold this opinion. It is simply the result of inexperience. One must explore the heights to fully appreciate the depths. A certain lady, a member of a family whose wealth exceeds that of small nations, procured me at a time in my life when I was too inexperienced to know better. I use the word procured because it is the most precise verb for this situation. We met at a charity function. I had been invited to attend by another acquaintance who wished to be seen, as she put it, with the best looking man in the room. In those early days I was ambitious and attracted to high society. I felt like the actor I had always wanted to be whenever I found myself among the privileged class. I would create a persona and enthusiastically play the part. The woman who would soon occupy my every waking moment was sitting at a table with a gentlemen that, had there been a competition, would have been the second most beautiful man in the room. I stood beside my evening's companion as she talked with friends. I glanced around the room and saw the lady staring in my direction. I wasn't sure at first if it was me she was looking at but each time I allowed my eyes to wander off and return she was still watching. I excused myself to get some fresh air and moved away toward the balcony. Before I could reach the glass doors leading out into the dark cool air she appeared behind me and stood still, waiting, I assumed, for me to open the door and allow her to pass through first. This I did and she passed close enough for her hair to brush my shoulder. She smelled of expensive things. She wore an evening gown that could buy four years of college at an Ivy League school. She was by any measure the most attractive woman in the room, but that fact detracted from her beauty. There is something to be said for imperfection. It has a positive, but incalculable, effect on a person's beauty. Take me for instance, my nose is slightly crooked and my front teeth are not perfectly aligned. Rather than subtract from my overall attractiveness they add a quality, best defined as character when all other definitions fail. She on the other hand was flawless. This made her seem unreal; something assembled and paid for by someone who could afford perfection. It was obvious she was coming on to me but the game must be played, and so....The air is a lot better out here, I said to no one in particular, but aimed at her. Are you speaking to me, she replied. I was thinking out loud, but I think I was directing it at you". "You think?" I just put forward a slight smile and said nothing. "Well, she said, you're right, the air is better out here. It's much too stuffy in there. I suppose a man like you prefers the outdoors." Yes that's true, is it obvious? Now it was her turn to be coy, she answered with her own semi smile. I introduced myself and asked her name. She told me her name was Lucinda Baker, "friends call me Lucy". Shall I call you Lucy? That depends, are you my friend? I smiled and let go of any tension, I knew I had her. "I would like to be", I said. "Well, my new friend, would you be kind enough to get us a drink". I would be delighted, I turned and walked back into the room, but before I could get five feet my evening's companion pounced. She was angry and made no attempt to hide the fact. How dare you, she hissed. I remained perfectly still as I would in the presence of an aggressive, hostile, animal. I hoped her next words would be spoken more quietly so as not to draw any more attention than what she had already drawn. So far only a few heads had turned our way. "Carol, what's wrong"? I said this knowing perfectly well what was wrong. Carol even said so. "You know perfectly well what's wrong", her voice was a bit lower this time. I bit my bottom lip in the way she said made me look boyish. With eyes wide I pleaded for her to tell me what was the matter. She fell for it. How dare you walk off with another woman. Do you realize how embarrassing that is. There was only one thing I could do and I did it. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight and kissed her mouth as smoothly and forcibly as I could. I held my lips on hers until I felt her body shiver slightly. I released her and drew back just inches so our noses almost touched. I could look down into her eyes, they were surprised but in a pleasant way. "I want you to myself, I said sounding wounded, I don't want to share you with your friends". I could tell by the look on her face she fell for it. This was now all her fault. As I slowly released her I continued to look deep into her eyes. She blushed feeling slightly awkward among the watchful presence of others in the room. All I needed to do was put an arm around her waist and lead her to the door. She rested her head on mine and I escorted her out the room. That was some show, Lucy said later as we lay in bed. I'm still waiting for my drink.


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170899