From The Sorrows by Maura Devereux, copyright 2004 Maura Devereux

“OK, I brought it.”

Sitting pretty this week. A couple of live ones.

“I got it from her gym bag. Off her comb. She almost caught me, but here it is. You can tell it’s gorgeous even from here, can’t you? I swear, I can even smell it from here.”

Elena was getting tired of handling all this hair. But people expected the hair. It was plausible.

“This is what you need, right? It’s enough?”

Elena was pleased to build the silences into the act, because she didn’t want to talk too much. They were too boring. They had such conventional longings. She had to get to the store before the 4 o’clock. She’d have to give him something, though. He’d had three appointments so far.

“It’s fine,” she said finally. “This is what I asked for. I will use this in my prayer for you.”

He looked at her, expectantly. She’d been doing these a while, but she was still finessing the performance. She was in that awkward transition phase with this one, where she was convincing and yet not masterful. The difference between good and great, really. And the way she was going, this was a good time to become great. She could benefit greatly by picking up her game, but today, with him? No heart, and an old script. Maybe she’d just stick with the candles today.

“But I do have to ask you…” He squirmed.

“Yes?”

“Do I get a timeline or something? Because, I have to say, I don’t think I can wait too much longer.”

“What do you mean, you can’t wait much longer? This woman is your soul mate, I have told you. Your destiny. What is time to destiny?”

“It’s just that, well, I’m not getting any younger here. I’m going to need something tangible soon.”

If she wasn’t careful, this would start to manifest as doubt of her. But she’d rather it manifested as self-indulgent lust.

“You love this woman very much, don’t you?”

“I don’t know if I would use that word. It’s a strong word.”

“And you are afraid of a strong word?”

“I’m not afraid of it. Just a word.”

“But you are afraid of what you feel, am I right? Your feelings are strong?”

“Of course my feelings are strong. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m here to see you.”

He’d been visiting other women in service to this lust, she could see, made other commercial arrangements. He sat on the couch and twiddled manicured fingers. He’d made his hands soft for her. He’d gone to visit women who had certainly derided him in their language, and paid them to touch him. He paid them to take all the roughness off his hands and make them not a man’s hands at all. When he touched her, it would be like she was touching herself.

“Tell me, then. What is it you feel for this woman if it’s not love?”

“It may be love, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve felt this way before. I just feel like every second I can’t touch her is murder. I don’t know if her skin is electric or what, but wow, I get within a foot of her and I feel like I stuck a fork in the socket, right?”

“There’s a word for that, young man.”

“I know.” He raised his hands above his head and slumped to the back of the sofa. He’d given up hiding. “It’s lust! I admit it. But is there something wrong with lust? Don’t you think lust is stronger than love anyway?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, I love my mother. I love my sister. I really do. If anything happened to them, I would kill. Swear. No lie. But what I feel for her is something else entirely. It’s more like a drug. Not that I do a lot of drugs. Don’t tell people I do a lot of drugs. But the way I feel around her, about her, is, I feel totally fucked up. I’m sorry, it’s not offensive to say that, is it? You don’t mind the swearing? Because I’m trying to be honest.”

Elena remained seated upright, but leaned forward as slightly as she could. “I want you to be honest, dear. As long as you are being honest with yourself. Tell me more about this woman. What is it about her that you want so much?”

“Want! Yes, that’s it! It’s just want, want, want! I just want her, that’s all. I want to own her. I want to own her hair, her soft hair. It smells like cherry vanilla. Like she always just came out of the shower. She’s got this little body that drives me wild. And it’s not even that it’s perfect. I think her tits are too small, if you want to know. But they’re perfect for me. That’s it, too. I think she’s perfect for me. I think she’d just fit. I just wonder how it would feel to have those little fingers of hers running through my hair. I want those little fingers. And I want those little legs of hers. I don’t need a racehorse here, all right? I’m thin. I like those little legs. They’d wrap around just fine. I wonder what it’s like to have those little legs around me. I think we’d fit perfectly together. You know. Physically.”

Elena considered being offended by this. He should humor her, at least a little. He should at least make some kind of noise to honor a spiritual love. She wanted to ask, What about the rest of it? How will she fit there? But she didn’t really care. And, truth be told, the mismatch was more to her advantage, from a business perspective.

“I mean, it’s not so much that I’m looking for love, as such. I’m just looking for something wild. Something big. I’m just looking for something to get…unleashed. I just want to feel that absolutely unleashed force of passion. I see this woman and I just think, there’s my chance for some heat, for some passion.” He paused. Elena checked his crotch to see if he was getting himself erect. Not so far. He didn’t notice her do it, she hoped. Would her own little body fit on his, she mused to herself? Could she just take pleasure from him? He seemed to have enough spunk to go around. What was that vulgar term Renita used? Tool? His pants were loose, but his shirt was tight. He had proud riding shoulders.

She shouldn’t question his motives, because his motives paid her, but she was just too curious. “I’m willing to help you, dear,” she began, “but I’m just curious. How does she act to you? Are you able to talk to her?”

“See, yeah,” he said, looking away, fixing his gaze on the poster on her wall. The one of the Pyramids, with starlight. He made a judgment on it. “It’s ok, when I talk to her. I see her around, I make small talk, and you know, she laughs. She doesn’t say a lot. Vibes me, though. That shit drains me, though. She’s probably at least that nice with 20 people a day. I mean, we could do that forever. That’s not what we’re about. I want to fix it so that, when we come together, it’ll just be massive. It’ll be just full-on, frantic, take-no-prisoners. Rrrrghaa! That’s what I want.” Elena noticed how quickly he evaded the present. A little on what is, a lot on what might be. That was just fine. He was the best kind of client, the kind for whom there was no present, only past and future. That was firmly her turf. That was where she worked.

“You can make that happen, right? You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Elena looked at him and smiled. She felt kind of sexier with him today. That was ok. And he was burning up performance time. She’d save it for next time, and work out something good.

“Of course I can make that happen,” she said. “They are great powers that I work with. And this is obviously something very important to you, dear. You are coming to me with sincerity in your heart.” Oh, she couldn’t help it.

He took perhaps too much attention, but he wouldn’t quit her now. “Look, you’re my counselor and I believe in you. That’s why I’m here. You just seem like someone who’s been through it, you know? Like you’ve been where I want to go. You’ve known passion, right? You can tell me. What am I missing here?”

Elena thought for a moment. Maybe she should just take this one to the bed. Under other circumstances, she’d be fair to infer that he was willing. She’d never do this other, tell personal stories or so. She could never tell her secrets, but where was it written she couldn’t enjoy privileges? But if she got him off, he’d certainly be gone as a client, and he was proving to be a rich one. If it were just her, maybe. But with Renita? No. She couldn’t.

“Oh, my friend,” she said, with a little extra womanliness, “there is much I know. Much I have known. My soul has seen many lifetimes; I have wisdom in my command. That is why I will help you. I will see you in four days, and you can tell me. You can tell me how things change, eh?” Almost as an afterthought, Elena took the hairs that her client had brought her. She would toss them in the trash, as she always did, as soon as he left. If she needed to fake something up, well, she could take some hairs off her own brush.

She stood up to dismiss her client. She would find she preferred him to her next appointment. When her client didn’t immediately join her, she prompted him. “Four days,” she repeated. She decided to walk him to the door, because it would be too easy to let him stay. As he exited, he asked her again.

“Four days?” he asked.

“Four days,” she said. He walked with a neutral bearing to his car down the street. Late model. Keyless entry. Elena stuck her head out the gate, looking for her next client. Sometimes, she encouraged them to wait on the stoop. It was neither particularly pleasant nor particularly safe, but Elena figured it was the easiest place to put them. She didn’t see the client immediately, but stayed at the front door as she mentally rehearsed a Spanish version of her pitch. She looked absently to the left, where the bus route was. With no sight of her client, she was startled to hear a rattle at the backyard gate. Maybe Mr. Cheung had let her in the backyard? She looked over. A tall man with a large shoulder bag fumbled with a key. He must be breaking in – a legitimate key holder would know about the trick of the inward slant. She should banish him.

“Can I help you sir,” she declared. The man looked up, just as the lock released.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I’ve got it.” He looked again and caught Elena’s eye. She looked ready to kill him. “Have we met?” he said, knowing they hadn’t. “I just moved in downstairs. I’m Joel.”