Captain Vincent, having never been much for metaphysics, considering their unreasonable demands on mysticism and heroism of a less than physical fashion, allowed any influence the ancient music may have had to slip back into his subconscious and convinced the musicians to fumble a lengthy breath so that they were required to stop and regain their composure. As for the gyrating hips and flexing tummy of the dancer, she was a carnal emblem of repressed sexuality (he meant this in an Ellisian way) and compared to the now missing flanks and abdomen of one Elisa Greene, she was a poor example at that, although in continuing without music, by maintaining the masses attention (provocatively smacking her hips against the seated audience), she had taken on an almost pathetic air that would have perked the predator in the captain had he not been so focused on searching for his lost little honey bee.
Realizing altogether at the appropriate moment that he was still conversing with his nearest barstool neighbor, Captain Vincent turned his gaze back upon his fellow citizen, only to find the pleased face of his prey there beside him. At first, of course, our agent believed she was out-spying him, announcing to his otherwise calm demeanor that she knew of his query and was prepared to find out just what he thought he was doing ‘shadowing’, as they say in the biz, her. However, she made no mention of it, but had actually remembered him from their short dance at her brother’s wedding reception and, even more incredible, requested to sit with him.
“You look familiar, yes I remember you. Didn’t we dance at my brother’s wedding a few months ago?”
“Yes, in fact we did.”
“You’re an engineer aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Mind if I sit down? I’m getting very sick of eating dinner all by myself.”
“No, of course not, please. Would you like something to drink?”
“That would be lovely.”
“To be honest, I thought I’d be the last person in the world that you’d ever ask to sit down with.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I didn’t get the idea from our dance that you liked me.”
“Oh, I can be a bit cranky at times, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings, I found it refreshing.”
“Yes, I remember, you said I was delightful, I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that about me. What are you doing around here, I’ve never seen you here before.”
“I live nearby, I’ve seen you here quite a few times.”
“I must not have noticed. Would you be a doll and get me out of here?”
“I thought you wanted to eat.”
“No, I’m bored with food. Let’s go to a speakeasy nearby.”
“A what?”
“A speakeasy, you know where you can have a real drink and a smoke. There’s one in the warehouse district, just up the street. Do you drink or smoke? They play great old music.”
“All right, lead the way.”
“I like men that do whatever I want, we should get along famously.”
It was not long before he found himself, in a clear daze, if there is such a thing, which we assure you there is, especially when a love is so nearby, walking with her down the street, her head rested against his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his closest arm as if they had been dating for three or four weeks exclusively and had grown comfortable enough for physical contact, meaning, of course, that a kiss and some moderate fondling of non-erogenous zones were to follow very quickly, at least by the next date, which meant that as long as he kept his mouth shut, he’d be pulsating within her sweaty crotch by month’s end. After that, he would have every opportunity to witness her naked, as the first few love making sessions were always punctuated by the utmost modesty, meaning that both fuckers would remove only the necessary equipment for access and denial, but that any additional roving was utter trespassing and potentially cause for refusal, although it was not unknown for two people to become so amorous that breasts were exposed or full frontal nudity was allowed in the midst of a ravenous episode of first contact.
Captain Vincent was sitting in a booth against the wall of the insides of a refurbished warehouse, unbeknownst to any of his peers, superiors, or other colleagues, it had been converted into a thriving disco where debauchery was promoted with unqualified music, alcoholic beverages, and the pungent fumes of tobacco smoke, all of which were strictly forbidden under Article 876-04 of the Social Ordinance Revised Codes, pages 789 through 795 (very Baylian, he must admit). Elisa, though, had already departed from the captain’s company and was currently standing, quite pleasantly, considering her back-less, black ribbon dress and perched head, at the bar, having been immediately serviced by the gentleman behind it, not even having the opportunity to consider what she intended to order before he stood attentively before her, ignoring the angry grimaces and whines of patrons who had been waiting for up to five minutes for him to get to their orders and returned quite triumphantly with two martinis and a package of hand-rolled cigarettes that were allegedly prepared by underground rollers from an island that had an ancient tradition of tobacco expertise. She immediately lit one of the cigarettes and blew out a large, thick plume of blue smoke like she had just heard the words of god and had been promised some sort of royal position upon her death. The captain, quite out of his element, since he’d never tried alcohol before, nor smoked a cigarette, nor did he intend to that night, knowing full well that excesses were always the symbols of rebellion in the historical annals (see for instance the feminist movement of the late-21st Century country of India), did not intend to ignore the attentive vixen who plugged a cancer stick to her lips and drew in an enormous furnace of ashes but couldn’t very well help it since the dance floor was spilling into the seating area and several scantily clad women were being dry humped by their partners, both male and female, right there before him, as well as the momentarily exposings of ass cheeks, cleavage, and nearly non-existent panties as the women waggled to the thumping tempo of some sort of sonic wave.
Elisa Greene, seated directly across from him and with her feet positioned between his legs as she reclined, seemed amused by the captain’s reaction to the hedonistic establishment, and sipped her martini between sacrificial smiles. Vincent, the professional that he was, pulled himself together and turned his attention to his prey.
* * *
Hail holy luminosity, the product of heaven’s portal, or of the eternal cooperation of deity and machine expressing an unblamed, unapproachable effluence of eternal, at least for cosmic-dynamo extra terrestrials, light that behaves like an antennae to focus the pure ethereal stream of Graham Green’s weekly, awarded from the void and infinite universe, oration on the virtue of complete supplication to the general will of the world’s prejudices, however slight. Joseph, who had escaped the Stygian pool, though he was lengthily detained within its grasp, having misunderstood a wishing well for an expansive ocean to cross with the tidal influence of an inflatable raft that had caused an obscure sojourn of sorts, to the best of his knowledge, properly exaggerated. Within the darkness of descending stars of the middle of the multiverse and with a very odd noise emanating out of what was surely an Orphean lyre, unbeknownst to our hero, due to its antiquity related usage, he stood at the cusp of dawn, amongst the piercing rays of the ultraviolet morning, so thickly were the neon, serene drops of pollution quenching the atomic laws of thermodynamics, and witnessed, for the first time, the clear spring of words that flowed upon the hallowed feet of an angel’s wisdom. No equal, save the blind Thamyris and equally vision deficient Maeonides, as well as Tiresias and Phineus, could so properly feed the thoughts of the harmonious numbers as he warbled like a wakeful bird a nocturnal note on the missing subject of our prose.