Excerpt
from Chapter XIV,
Missy Mayhem & Autumn's Chill
To
return to Chapter Index click: HERE
_______________
XIV.1
Steven to Angie & Ella
Saturday, September 20, 2003 11:49 PM
Angie and Ella, I apologize profusely for being out of touch for
the past six weeks! And, yes, you’ve guessed correctly:
I’ve met someone. To be more specific: I’ve stumbled
into an addiction/affliction with a petite princess hellcat by
the name of Missy.
Is it love? Ha! It’s said love places one in a state of
being—reveals a world—unlike any one’s experienced
before, and I’d be a liar if I said my involvement with
Missy didn’t do that; but the whole business often strikes
me as being despite myself: sometimes it’s unadulterated
annoyance, tantamount to a gauntlet that must be run! I’m
not sure if that’s love...
Sure, Missy’s picture is always before my mind’s eye—causes
a swirl of rapture and uneasiness to steadily hum in my breast;
but I don’t foresee our relationship lasting, because of
the frequency with which I contemplate escape! An addict often
contemplates escape from the drug that brings about fireworks
in his veins, right? Does an addict love the drug he cannot help
but crave, or resent it?
Angie and Ella, we’ve always been friends first, and frolic-mates
second—the three of us have been very clear about this.
At varying stages of our friendship it’s felt like love—it
has to be a variety of love: aren’t all deep and abiding
friendships?—but Missy’s intruded, plunged me into
a state of disequilibrium that fascinates as much as it repels
me! I often descend to detesting her, just as I often experience
upwellings of joy; and fist-pumping sensations of triumph; and
fate-cursing recriminations that so much energy’s being
wasted; and... Simply put, I’m not sure if Missy’s
a blessing or a curse.
I met Missy through Robert, at a party. He pointed her out on
the dance floor and said, “There’s a girl you have
to meet.” Since that first encounter, I’ve been as
good as in a state of seizure…
To explain the enclosed email: Missy lives in Robert’s building,
three doors down from him, and they often chat in the hall. She
sometimes speaks about me, knowing her words will be repeated.
The email begins by referring to a situation that arose as a consequence
of spending last Saturday night with Missy and, from there, evolves
into a description of the ups and downs of a Missy night and the
nature of my relationship with her. I’m enclosing it (1)
to give you an idea of what’s going on, and (2) because
it’s easier than writing a new one.
The three of us have always seen other people, but none of these
people have kept us apart for long. Missy’s not only kept
me from you for over six weeks, I’ve neglected to mention
her existence. I think I haven’t told you about her because
I keep expecting us to break up soon.
It will be over between Missy and I...eventually. Think
of it as an extended fling: no reason for jealously to rear it’s
ugly head. After all, I’ve never entrusted Missy with emotional
confidences, especially concerning the two of you; and that’s
the real indication to whom one’s closest, right? To whom
does one tell everything?
But I’ll let the enclosed email speak for me now. Darlings,
you know my affection for both of you will always be unwavering.
Love,
Steven
##########
Steven to Robert
Sunday, September 14, 2003 11:21 PM
So Missy’s in another uproar? wishing me dead for failing
to see she arrived home with her stockings, the precious “Pinky
Reds”? As if it’s my responsibility to gather up all
of her accessories gone astray and see to it she leaves with them!
Anyway, thanks for the forewarning that forearms me! I’ll
be hearing from her before long, am surprised I wasn’t the
first to know of Her Highness’ displeasure! Then again,
she’s probably waiting until she’s fully worked up!
Yes, that’s it: she isn’t infuriated enough yet! No
use letting me off easy!
Another Missy storm’s brewing? Big surprise! If it wasn’t
the stockings, it would be something else—such as I didn’t
have a dozen roses delivered on Sunday to demonstrate how much
I appreciate her; or didn’t notice she was wearing a new
perfume and praise it to high heaven; or had a trace of a stubble
instead of being freshly shaved; or neglected to be appropriately
sad when she left! She’s reprimanded me for those things
in the past, and plenty else—all equally outrageous, a simple
case of her dreaming up excuses to be annoyed! It’s a ritual
with her! A night cannot end on a sweet note! Something has to
be amiss and, if nothing’s amiss, she’ll invent something
that is! Her Highness demands that my every thought revolve around
her, regardless of whether she’s present; that she be the
beginning and the end and all points in between of my attention
span: throwing tantrums over nothing is a way of reminding me
of the fact! Yes, I must constantly be alert to prevent “disrespectful
and rebellious behavior” from making her feel unwanted!
Anyway, I’ve got bad news for Missykins! Her “Pinky
Reds” are in shreds, kaput, deceased! I’ve already
flung them down the trash chute—they weren’t fit to
wear, on account of being in tatters, not to mention rather crispy
with dried saliva and other love juices! I don’t believe
BratCat doesn’t remember! In fact, I’m fairly certain
she does remember and is only pretending to be frantic
on their account, for the purpose of propelling me into panic!
I’m supposed to be galvanized to action now, race out the
door and purchase a new pair to pacify her; I’m supposed
to present them to her as a peace offering, apologize profusely
for the destruction of the original ones, plead for Her PrincessShip’s
forgiveness! Ha! As if I ever indulge her “two year old
behavior” (her words), permit myself to be shoved about
by her snit-fits! But, of course, that’s part of it too:
Missy, although she’d die before admitting it, adores my
insubordination!
Anyway, here’s what happened—it’s a quintessential
Missy adventure:
This morning she calls at around two AM, says she’s outside
my building, and coming up. OK, I’m not doing anything of
great import, simply reading Don Quixote for the trillionth time,
so I say alright. And, yes, I know I violated my “No Barge
In!” policy: allow a female to barge in once, she soon makes
a habit of it! Every girl’s perfectly willing to become
a possessive pest, if one’s stupid enough to allow it to
happen! Every girl’s got just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood
mania in her psychological profile! An inch is given, a thousand
yards are taken! Pretty soon the girl thinks of one’s apartment
as her second home, is clamoring for a set of keys; pretty soon
she’s dead set on redecorating the place, having furniture
she doesn’t like hauled away; yes, pretty soon she thinks
of one’s apartment as her first home, is insisting on moving
in! Before one knows it, one’s confronted with a lot pining,
whining, wheedling crap concerning the fact one’s none too
eager to share! Before one knows it, one’s in the midst
of a nasty breakup, dealing with a wailing, rancorous, screaming
manic—being called ungrateful, misleading, false-promising,
cowardly! Before one knows it, one’s got to listen to the
“Why do you want to destroy love?” lecture; and the
“You really need to see a therapist!” lecture; and
the “You’re going to end up being a lonely old man!”
lecture; and the “Well, you might as well kill yourself
if you’re afraid of a woman who loves you!” lecture;
and plenty of other lectures, all served up from the point of
view of a female who feels she has a right to take complete control
of one’s life! So, yes, I do the girl and myself a favor
by not allowing her to pop over unannounced, and give that nasty
feminine possessive streak something tangible to latch onto! But,
sometimes... Hell, a cutie’s bright voice on the phone saying
she’s in the lobby and wants to see me... If I’m not
doing much of anything... It’s damn near impossible to enforce
“No Barge In!” all the time! I am a man, after all!
Nookie’s waved in front of me?—a hot twatted girl’s
downstairs and wishes to fun around? What man’s always going
to be able to resist setting a bad precedent by saying, “Come
on up!”?
Yes, following a brief pause, I tell Missy, “Alright, come
on up.” And Missy, being the vainest hellcat alive, is immediately
annoyed at the pause—at the fact I needed two seconds to
reflect before agreeing, instead of instantaneously and enthusiastically
saying there’s nothing I’d like better on earth! Because
Missy doesn’t ever believe a man has a choice in
the matter of being treated to a visit by her; to pause and reflect
and then somewhat resignedly say “alright” implies
I have a choice and could also say “no” and Her Highness
doesn’t understand how a “no” could originate
from anyone but herself! She once said: “I’m a delectable
nymphet who’s lusted after dozens of times a day; therefore,
such entitles me to undivided attention on demand! Any man I’m
demanding attention from is supremely lucky and ought to thank
his lucky stars, because plenty of others would kill to be in
his place!”
But, to continue:
“Oh, it’s alright, is it?” Missy says with sarcasm,
“You know, if you’re not sure, I can go visit someone
else!”
So now Missy’s expecting me to exert myself to pacify her.
Ha! Precisely because she’s such a proud and willful princess,
there’s the constant temptation to go contrary to her expectations
and rile her! So I say: “Be my guest! Go visit someone else!”
“You’re not making sense!” Missy hisses. I hear
her stamp her foot; she exhales with exasperation, continuing:
“Don’t take it out on me if you haven’t slept
or eaten, and are cranky! I’ve gotten pretty for you and
am here to see you and, dammit, you’re not going
to turn me away! I’ll stand in your lobby all night if I
have to! What will the doorman think? I’ll tell him you’re
a creep!” (Big threat, right? She’ll tell the doorman
I’m a creep! Ha ha!) Then suddenly, in ineffably gentle
tones: “Mommy will feed you if you’re hungry, honey.
She’s here to be nice. Let Mommy come up. She won’t
bite.”
“But I said you could come up,” I point out.
“I’ll be right there,” she says very quick and
business like, and hangs up.
So I not only violated my “No Barge In!” policy, I
did it with just about the most prideful, pushy, not-taking-no-for-an-answer
girl in town! I’m sure you’re laughing, immensely
amused a girl’s finally “gotten to” me! But
if Missy’s “gotten to” me, then at least she’s
not a drab! If I’m going to be pushed around by a girl,
then that girl’s going to be jaw-droppingly gorgeous! If
I’m going to put up with spoiled princess nonsense, then
the said princess is going to be heads-whipping-about-to-gawk-at-her
stunning! Missy’s not merely cute—cute’s easy
to come by. Cuties prance up and down the New York sidewalks all
day long, one after another, dozens every hour! Missy’s
beautiful as how Poe describes beauty: “There’s no
beauty that doesn’t contain something of strangeness in
its aspect.” Missy’s beauty is a gasp of awe, punch
in the stomach, surge of yearning strong enough to turn me inside
out! Those blue eyes of hers, and pitch black hair! Her lily white
complexion, with soft depth-shadows under her skin! Her indescribably
sweet face so charged with will! Her at once slender and curvy
body, perfectly rounded twitchy behind! Hell, you know what I’m
talking about!
_______________
LIAISONS
FOR LAUGHS:
ANGIE & ELLA'S SUMMER OF DELIRIUM
Excerpt from Chapter XIV,
Missy Mayhem & Autumn's Chill
Copyright
© 2009
by Robert Scott Leyse
All rights reserved.
To
return to Chapter Index click: HERE
