Vincent saw her smiling, she was amused only by their lack of originality, she was making deprecating comments, they were confused. Whenever it happens, she defends herself. She is armored against it. She has a strategy, a strategy she has perfected over years of accostings, leers, jokes, attempts, and banter. She is a fuck fantasy no matter what she wears. She is constantly sized up, elevator eyed, noticed, she is wearing the dress for him.
When he returns, the men greet him with friendly salutations, but their eyes betray their hearts. They do not get the hint. They remain, reasoning that a proper word, the right comment, perhaps some movement, will have her discarding her accompaniment and they can steal away with her. Vincent sits and tries to converse with the men, who oblige him with quick retorts before returning their attention to his date, who sits back in her chair. “Why did you leave me alone?”
“I wasn’t aware of it being a problem.”
She slides her chair back from the table and uncrosses her legs as one man continues a story about a recent vacation, stuttering as she moves, his eyes, along with every other man in proximity, focused on the suddenly exposed triangle of vinyl between her legs. The gentleman continues, though, with only a momentary lapse. Elisa places her hand in Vincent’s, holding it against her thigh. Why is she parting her legs? She is barely dressed; they can already see her. She runs the back of his hand up her thigh, up to the lace, and slides it down towards the chair. She scoots herself forward so that his open hand is against her and re-crosses her legs, watching herself do this, she glances quickly over to the captain and bites her lower lip, twisting it with her front tooth before she absently returns to the speaker. “Go on.”
The gentleman finishes his story quickly and retreats to another table. The other men find reasons to bid the couple adieu. Vincent has had his hand against her warmth for only a few seconds, but he’s forced to leave her a second time to attend to an uncomfortable situation in his pants. She waits patiently for his return.
“You’ll have to forgive me for ever doubting you,” he said once he was seated again.
“Does that mean you’ve stopped?”
“Stopped what?”
“Doubting me.”
“Do you like to torture people, Elisa?”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
“Possibly.”
“A little bit.”
“Do you hate society?”
“That’s not a very interesting question.”
“Do you hate it enough to loathe it, to not be able to exist in it?”
“I think anyone who says they don’t loathe the life they lead is a pathological liar. Let me ask you, Vincent, are you so Graham Greene pleased with everything there aren’t things you think should be changed? Why is it that change is a dirty word? Why is it so unpatriotic to question things?”
“Change will happen naturally. You can’t force it on people. As far as I know, there’s no general outcry demanding for it to happen. So why is that a handful of people, who we don’t know are right, feel their version of the truth, their version of society, is the correct one and the rest of us are all wrong?”
“I don’t know, I guess that’s why they call it government.”
“You should just be happy with what you’ve got, Elisa. You’re beautiful, look at the way men behave around you, they practically fall over each other to get near you. You’re wealthy, you have your own life, what’s so terrible?”
“I don’t know Vincent, why don’t you tell me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You talk about me making decisions and being content with those, but how is that possible when we’ve got government agencies that send out investigators to find out why I’ve not gotten married yet, or why I haven’t had any children yet, or why I’ve turned down marriage proposals. Why is that any of their business? Who are they that they think they can tell me when to get married? Then, they prescribe drugs for me, drugs that are supposed to make me more agreeable to the idea. Do you really think I need a prescription for that? Why can’t I just do as I please, why do they always have to enforce some rule about making my life pleasant, can’t I decide for myself?”
“But you’ve just said your life isn’t pleasant. Maybe you need someone to help you make it what it should be. Maybe those drugs will help. Have you ever tried to take them?”
“Why should I take them? I don’t want to get married right now, why should I be pressured into taking something that will change my mind?”
“For the good of humanity, Elisa. You are not the only one involved here. There’s millions of people who all expect to be happy. Don’t you see that we all live in a community, that we all affect each other’s lives? One of us doesn’t have the right to upset the whole thing simply because they don’t want to follow the decisions of the rest of us.”
“You sound like a slogan from one of those rebranding facilities.”
“You have dangerous ideas that you don’t know will hurt you… and the rest of us too.”
“Why? Why can’t I have a different opinion on how we should do things?”
“Because, Elisa, it doesn’t work that way. If you took some time and thought about it, you’d realize that harmony is the purest form of life and whatever way we can get it, that’s how we should run our government.”
“So I suffer so you all can think the world’s perfect.”
“No, you suffer because you won’t accept our help. You are too proud to realize that we can help you, I can help you.”
“I enjoy your help, Vincent. Unfortunately, my bodies not strong enough to handle it constantly.”
“You’ve tried.”
“Why do you care how many men I’ve been with or how many men I’ve been with at one time? Is it so shocking to think that I might need to have sex just as much as you, that I dream about it sometimes, or that I desire men? You don’t mind when I put your hand on my cunt. You don’t seem to have a problem with your desire, why are you so upset that I have the same emotion?”
“Let’s just say, I don’t mind if you have that emotion. What I do find a little strange is how you requite it. I like the way you’re dressed, don’t get me wrong. But don’t you think it’s a bit much, I mean every man in this room can see your body, you’re half naked and your breasts are going to fall out of it at any moment. Which really doesn’t matter since they’re completely visible anyways.”
“I wore the dress for you, Vincent. I was thinking of how you’d react to it. I don’t give a damn about other men seeing me. What I cared about was you seeing me.”
“So I can share you with the four hundred other people in the room? Most women I know don’t dress like that, Elisa. They just don’t.”
“There you go again, trying to make me just like everyone else. Well, I’m not. I don’t want to be, either. Isn’t that why you’re with me, because I have my own personality, because I’m my own person?”
“Elisa, I’m not used to this. I live a very orderly life. The women I date are nice girls who agree to go out with me to see if we might make a match. They don’t seduce me the second time I’m with them.”
“You weren’t complaining then.”
“I’m not complaining now, I enjoyed it very much. I love you. But don’t you see, if you’ve done all these things, if you’re so willing to hop into bed with me after only meeting me once before, don’t you see how that can make me weary of you?”
“So you don’t want me to be a whore. At least, not until I’ve met you and then, I suddenly become consumed with desire, it is so powerful that I can’t help myself, I need your dick in me, I need you to treat me bad. I suddenly realize that I’m a naughty girl. All this time, a pristine virgin, not one impure thought. Then, I see him, Vincent Belacque and like a semen flood, I must get on all fours and have him ravish me. Something like that?”