Authors: Michael Malflic
“That was amazing, you play beautifully.” She looked at him staring deeply into his dark eyes.
“In the still of the night I’m an ugly whore, alone with her own demons waiting to feel beautiful.” Tears welling up in her eyes at the honest conclusion of what she had chosen to become.
“Now Vincent.
What are you in the middle of the night? And like me not who you pretend to be but who are you really?” Vincent stood, she thought he might be taking his leave of her rather than answer but instead he walked to the window peering out onto the dark lonely street. He reached for the violin shouldering it, slowly drawing the bow across it,
adjusting
the tuning to a concert violinist’s perfection before playing his first series of notes. They were notes of musical legend playing each note and phrasing with skill and purpose, driving and haunting those who heard it. At the close of
the movement
he looked up and spoke. “I am the devil.” A clear reference to the fact that legend has it that Paganini had sold his soul for his skills. As he stood over
Nadrea
who was still seated at the piano, violin still shouldered, bow still at the ready.
“In the still of the night I am my own devil, and somehow I lost myself and soul to be there.” He began again this time
Nadrea
joined in on the piano as if pre-rehearsed. As they concluded Vincent said softly “I really need to go.”
“It’s almost three. Just stay here”
Nadrea
offered, wondering no sooner than the words left her lips why she would have tendered such a thing.
“Not to night
” he
said taking her hands as she stood “but you can walk me to the door.” As he got to the door he turned and leaned down to kiss her goodnight after which he stepped through the open door out onto the old stone landing.
Nadrea
peering out slowly closing the door behind him Vincent turned “You truly are beautiful” as the words faded from her ears he added “It’s a shame you need someone else to see it so that you feel that way. Instead you should show people how amazing you are, it is truly far more alluring than your body and sexual persona alone.” As always seemed to be the case Vincent then disappeared into the night, this time concealed by the darkness of his car and then by the distance mixed with the darkness of the night.
After Vincent’s departure
Nadrea
tended to the routinely mundane but all too necessary task of locking the door and setting the alarm. She opened the piano bench and placed the felt key cover neatly in position closing the lid gently like she was tucking in a precious possession for the night. She sat on the end of the bench long ways still adorned in her whores cloth
ing reclined her torso along it
s length, the cool hard woo
d supporting her torso along it
s length
, arms
limp to the side draping to the floor. Her hair and head dangling downward off the far end her hair fanned across the hardwood floor. Her legs limply askew for once there was nothing overly promiscuous about her lack of mod
esty, instead there was a child
like innocence. Her thoughts betraying her posture and garments. “He thinks I’m beautiful” she repeated softly over and over again. Her breath easy, her
body limp
. Perhaps there was nothing more child like in the world than simply feeling pretty without all the other things and complications that comes with age.
Two nights in Reston
Donna had agreed earlier in the week to as the Husker put it “disappear for the weekend.” At the time she was not entirely certain what that entailed, but after all he was a wholesome guy who had agreed to follow her into her lifestyle the past few weekends so it was only more than fair that she tried to do some of the things he wanted. Donna packed two large suitcases filling them with everything from chic casual to shorts and jeans. Of course there were running shoes and workout clothes along with a few selections of lingerie from Victoria’s Secret Pink Collection. The garments were only slightly more functional than the corset, stockings and heels she could be most often found in. It was no small matter how one looked at it a trip to the suburbs for the weekend. The Husker on the other hand had packed everything he needed in an oversized gym bag. A pair of gabardine khaki’s, a pair of jeans, three shirts, sandals, running shoes and the all too typical assortment of common boring and purely functional undergarments. The trademark of which was his traditional cotton blue boxers. He was steady, reliable and functional, more of a Volvo station wagon than a high performance sports car.
So as the overly practical man who had grown moderately more daring recently with each passing day rolled up in front of
Donna’s
to pick her up he popped the trunk and loaded the modern equivalent of steamer trunks into the car. Off the pair went into the misery and insanity that constitutes Friday afternoon traffic in DC. When the wheels of bureaucracy where in full motion 28 miles takes 90 minutes due to gridlock and traffic. Finally, the couple arrived at the Hyatt in Reston, and for a place so close to the city it had a distinctly different feel. The hotel bellman unloaded the suitcases and the valet cheerfully whisked away the old man mobile they had arrived in.
Standing at the front desk Donna said quietly, “I’ll be at the bar.”
Robert not at all a controlling man responded “OK but why?” as he was handed the key to their suite.
“What if somebody sees us?”
“So what?
After last weekend at brunch people know we’re dating.”
As Donna considered his point added “
You usually
watch the shadows just in case”. “Yes, just in case Christy was lurking around the corner.” They began to follow the bellman towing a luggage cart toward the elevators. “Now she knows, she may not like it but she knows. Besides she is in Nebraska for a series o
f meetings for elected official
s support staff.”
As the pair settled into the suite, he immediately found the coffee maker and dug through his bag to find his precious pre-ground coffee hidden at the bottom, not because he was hiding it, but because it was the first thing he had packed. Donna stood in front of the closet and dresser unpacking. The Husker watched in amazement sipping his thick black brew as Donna placed outfit after outfit into the closet and dresser.
“That’s a lot of stuff” Robert stated sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed clutching his mug.
“I didn’t know what you had planned” Donna replied.
“Well none of it involves a lot of clothes” he said playfully.
Had they really escaped merely for carnal purposes, a change of venue, it would have been something more likely if she had planned the weekend.
“Since you’re dressed lets go to dinner.”
Reston is a peculiar mix of businesses and overpriced housing littered amidst the non- descript government agency buildings. The Hyatt is situated on a corner along a street to the side that is lined with brand name retailers and eating establishments. Appealing and clean those few blocks were a modern ode to small town life and sense of community that had been long since lost in the crime riddled
masses of the larger metro area
s.
Dinner was filled with wine and pleasant conversation of a mostly trivial nature, nothing all that uncommon to most courtships. Words carefully selected to ensure the proper interpretations. As the evening progressed, they took their time progressing from drinks to dinner, moving along from each course at a leisurely pace until the meal ended with them sharing a piece of flourless dark
chocolate cake, the inevitable cappuccino and ultimately to the same homogenized lit street leading to the hotel that they had traversed on the way to dinner.
The shops were all closed as Donna peered into the windows here and there as they passed.
After a long week accentuated by a long meal, the pair finally retired to their suite for the remainder of the evening to enjoy each other
’
s company.
Again night turned into day as it so often does and with the warm soft sun came two fruit plates and an over abundance of coffee. The
casually
dressed Husker toting his gym bag with a pair of jeans,
a polo
, sandals and a collection of towels in it.
“What’s the plan for the day?” Donna asked not knowing if there was one.
“Sailing lessons.”
Donna just looked at him not quite certain if he was at all kidding.
“All those ropes last Friday made me want to go sailing.”
“Why so you could learn to tie me up?” Donna inquired knowing damn well that it was most likely not the case.
“No, I could do that just fine” he said blushing, uncomfortable with the frank nature of what he believed was becoming a deviant conversation. Then adding “I was a boy scout you know.”
“What if I asked you to?” she pressed, it was a routine she had played countless times before with others who might have been enticed by the idea.
“Never mind” she added after a few seconds of silence.
“So tell me again why we are going sailing.”
“Have you ever been?” the Husker questioned back.
“No” was the only truthful answer she could give.
“Then that’s why. Besides my phones won’t work after we get a little bit off shore, so there won’t be any interruptions.”
Donna proceeded to pack her
BeBe
jeans, a g-string and bra, a semi dressy blouse from all places Charlotte
Russe
and a playful pair of heels. The outfit was a stark contrast to the utilitarian one piece swim suit she decided to wear covering it with black nylon hiking shorts that were meant for the gym that day, an old gray t-shirt and running shoes. Her hair drawn back placed through the Husker’s favorite red cap that she had recently commandeered.
So the drive began from Reston to a quiet harbor in Baltimore winding around the beltway on a lazy Saturday morning, one coffee stop and 76 minutes later they arrived at the marina. No sooner than they were walking toward the docks the Husker began vigorously reapplying SPF 60 sun block to his face and arms, a routine he was reenacting that he had not done so long ago before leaving the hotel. Donna just smeared on a little extra
Carmex
to her lips so the wind wouldn’t chap them too severely as she just went along quietly with his plan. What was it that made him want to take sailing lessons with her? Had she inadvertently made a comment that his usually keen senses had misinterpreted?
Donna imagined the day would consist of a ramshackle old boat and the added company of a weathered old sea captain. She stopped just sort of giggling at the idea of an incarnate version of the Morton’s fisherman being their instructor. So as they approached the docks her eye was drawn to a small single hull, a tired green and white vessel that had to be no more than a 16 foot boat. At times she had forgotten that she was no longer a poor country girl and as the pair walked past the boat she let out an audible sigh of relief. The Husker hadn’t noticed, he just continued down the docks finally stopping at a 120 foot sailing yacht.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Yes, it’s very nice.”
“Boats are a she” he gently corrected as he removed his shoes and stepped aboard “Stiff Shirts”.
“Well are you coming?”
“This is the boat we’re learning to sail?” She asked not realizing that it wasn’t sailing lessons that they were going to be taking. The day would not be filled with rout instruction with this rope and that thingy goes there.
The Husker laughed “I said you were taking sailing lessons. For me we’re running her one last time before she heads south for the winter.”
Stiff Shirts was owned by an old college friend of the Husker’s who had made his fortune in the less than glamorous world of dry
cleaning by opening up a series of at home pickup and delivery dry cleaning services that eventually also grew to include a chain of high end brushless car washes from North Carolina to Maryland. The Husker had sailed before, one of his many secrets was he had his open water Capitan’s license allowing him to command a ship out on the open sea.
So shortly after a peaceful troll out of the harbor during which “Captain
Stiffy
” (as the Husker called his friend by the amusing nick name) provided Donna with a nauseating discourse on the history of man and sailing, of wind and water and this and that mind numbing fact. Finally with sails raised into place the ship went barreling out into the glistening waters, soon after losing sight of land, later losing sight of birds overhead as well. A few hours later they stopped, lowering the sails to the deck and floating with the rise and fall of the waves out at sea. While everyone gathered on the aft deck for a truly gourmet lunch, the Husker, Donna, Captain Richard, his Missus, and daughters sat around the tables and benches tending to this and that, Richard’s oldest son was below deck ignoring all of the day’s beauty. He did however emerge with hand wrapped prosciutto around fresh bite sized balls of Mozzarella for appetizers, four on each plate, a plate for each guest that was garnished with a sour cream sauce. His longish bleached blonde hair flowed in the ocean breeze. The cheese was followed by a baby greens salad dressed with fresh strawberries and a sweet dressing to offset the bitterness of the lettuce choice. As he and his friend emerged to clear the dishes from the first two courses, Donna began to question his orientation, after all here was a teenage boy obsessed with food and presentation, well built and so was his “friend”. Only moments later he reemerged again with braised lamb, grilled asparagus and brown organic rice.