One day, when five boys, including her brother, were present for a lengthy match, Elisa had decided to give them a better chance and once she arrived at the wrestling spot, a grove about a half a mile from the family home, recommended by Graham so that they wouldn’t be interrupted, she removed her dress and got into position under the glowing summer sun on all fours, she still wasn’t quite sure why she always had to start that way, completely naked. This way, she reasoned, all the problems they had with her dress would not factor into the outcome, and she could see if they could actually pin her. Graham, who was always the first, seemed unsure, until Elisa swore on her future inheritance that she’d never tell anyone, knowing, based upon instructions from her nanny and adopted mother that there was something naughty about her skin and not wanting to get Graham in trouble. However, the outcome was the very same, the boys did not have any trouble holding her down, but they couldn’t seem to manage to pin her and always ran out of steam.
The last boy, a grinning young buck named Sharky, though, added a twist to his strategy and almost pinned Elisa when he pushed against her and she felt a muscle pull in her lower belly, experiencing for the first time intromission. She wasn’t about to let pain get in her way, though, and was able to battle through it, outlasting Sharky, who seemed to be in even worse agony than she. The match was the most difficult Elisa had ever done, though, and afterwards, for some reason, the pit of her stomach ached and she was sure Sharky had torn a muscle in her groin. That was the first time Elisa laid panting after a match too, unable to recover immediately, and she found herself bleeding a little, a mucus coated her thighs, and Graham seemed very worried, even attacking Sharky for going too far with her. Elisa, who appreciated her brother’s protection, was uncomfortable for a few days after the match, like she had been riding a horse for too long and Graham called off any future wrestling.
When Graham saw Elisa next, after that fateful afternoon of nude fumbling, knowing that he too had come close several times, remembering several times that electric impulse as the head brushed against the fleshy, warm folds of her insides, she was standing on the third floor balcony with a black and margarine butterfly twisted around her index finger, flapping its wings but seemingly unafraid of the young girl. Graham, who had spent the last few nights in sweaty insomnia, obsessed with the images of his half-sister in the grotto, on her hands and knees, the perfume of her body still clinging to his fingertips, her steatopygous hind risen up slightly, the shifting, dangling scoops of flesh topped with cherry red nipples, the light, thin line of pubic hair, the strange lips of flesh, wanted to apologize to her if Sharky had hurt her, but he did not. He stood behind her, staring at the horseshoe shaped lines on the back of her knees, the smooth, slow transitions of her shins, the sun light that was caught in the valley of one thigh muscle and the next, the round, meaty arms with their dimple elbows, the thin neck with hair all out of place, the butterfly flapping its wings on her tiny, roll fingers. Graham leaned against the wall, unnoticed, and watched her. When he was close to sleep, when his defenses were down and the chance of slumber was just a breath away, it would come to him, he would be positioned behind her, just as he always was, her long legs spread open, her bare bottom pressed against his thighs, her back ribbed with her spine, and he would say go. He would enter her, his glands not merely brushing the skin of her labia, but finding her ventage and sliding within her, just like Sharky, and she would writhe below him, panting, moaning, crying, groping the grass, just like with Sharky, and he would wrestle with her, turn her over and pin her, sucking up an entire nipple in a great mouth full of flesh, re-enter her, while she groans, pushes away, attempts to turn over, just like Sharky. All Graham had to do was catch her now, as she gazed down at the butterfly, before she could make a noise, before she could escape, he’d have her naked against him, he’d have his penis inside her, he’d have his lips wrapped around her mouth, he’d have her tongue rolling around his own, he had have her labored breath against his throat. But Graham didn’t ever do it; he just continued to wish he had.
The day Graham stood before the mirror, finishing his shave and moving onto some meticulous nose hair grooming, Elisa was thirty-three years old, unmarried, without children and unemployed. She did freelance garment design for a number of chic clothing lines but always refused full-time employment. As soon as one of the companies offered her a position, always very prominent, she never accepted another commission from them. She had gone to college in four different countries, at four different universities, had received twelve bachelor’s degrees, two masters and a doctorate in Egyptology.
Elisa lived in a house their father had bought as a summer get-away eighty kilometers outside the city. She did not use electricity and drove herself if she wanted to go anywhere. She stayed in her home all day and only went out at night (the Rye needing no further explication). The locals kept stores open late for her, where she could shop without others bothering her and she was often seen in late-night movie theatres. But, more often than any other place, she was seen in a booth at the Steamboat Saloon and Cocktail Bar, a rickety old establishment that clung to the cliffs hovering over the ocean. No one except one waiter was allowed to talk to her and she always drank the same thing, Black Label Beer out of the can. Elisa had an apparent stash of ethyl alcohol tablets and she plopped two of them into each serving, returning alcohol to the beverage. Every time she visited the Steamboat, she drank twenty-four beers in under four hours, got up with no signs of drunkenness and drove herself home. Her only other requirement was that the piano player stop while she was in attendance. This was done without question, with no objections by anyone in the crowd and with no anger from the musician, even though he was losing tip money while he wasn’t playing.
* * *
Recently, Graham Greene had met Haddie Springfield, the eighteen-year-old daughter of a shipping tycoon, at a social event. Haddie had a perian face that looked like a woman’s reflection in a china plate. She posed as though a fashion photographer was snapping pictures of her on location at an exotic beach when she was spoken to and said purposefully objectionable things in response to questions. They were not challenging observations, nor anti-social statements, but merely Thalian pronouncements in a conventional sense.
“Why Miss Springfield, where ever did you get your dress?” a socialite snob asked.
“My summer collection was all boosted from a department store truck I had some ruffians knock over for me,” she replied.
“Haddie, I must say you look beautiful tonight,” an elderly bachelor mentioned.
“You don’t have to say so, Bobbie, oh that’s right you do, you’re on father’s payroll.”
Haddie was an only child, her parents had invested a great deal in her birth and doctors spent four and a half years constructing the perfect gene profile for her. Still, Haddie’s monthly pharmacy bill was more expensive than most car payments and she refused to continue her education. She wanted only to work on her many hobbies and social engagements. She loved to entertain and was arguably the best hostess in the city. She held dances on a weekly basis, book discussion groups every month, a social club she ran met every Tuesday, and she had permanent reservations every four weeks at a concert hall. She loved to attend premiere parties, concerts, sporting events, and fashion shows. She spent her free time, which was every minute of every day, working on interior designs, playing the piano, practicing cock-ball, writing slogans for fictitious products, and sewing. She refused the acceptance letters of the major universities, who were obligated due to her social standing to court her, and left for Greece a month before her last year of secondary school was to begin. She was an A-lister who wanted to be treated like one before she could walk.