Entry XIV--Out of Body (Part 3)
Eyes open slowly...
...but am not blinded at all by the all the light provided by that magnificent chandelier overhead.
Yes, I'm back in Ms. Cabal's library, like I never went anywhere.
And I probably didn't.
Ms. Cabal isn't paying any special attention to me, looking over something in her laptop.
Then she turns to me with an equally casual smile, inquiring, "Did you enjoy your tea, Darwin?"
(Want to say, "Other than the fact it made me either pass out, hallucinate or both, I liked it just fine, Ms. Cabal.")
Instead, I smile back and say blandly, "Yes, thank you, Ms. Cabal."
We're both acting like nothing happened at all, which in her case might be completely appropriate behavior.
Me, on the other hand, well I just might be cracking up.
Ms. Cabal's still on the tea: "It's from China, where they use younger leaves to give it a fresher taste.”
I don't mention that bitter undertaste, if there even was one.
She returns her attention to her laptop, and speaks into a built-in microphone, “Jarvis, please have the driver bring a car around to take Mr. Grimm home. And bring him his coat and a box of that green tea you served to the library.”
Her way of letting me know that the evening is over.
“Am I leaving?”
“Yes, Darwin. Our business is concluded for the evening. I have other matters to attend to, and you, of course, have much writing before you.”
“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”
She doesn’t know how right she is—itching to get in front of my monitor.
Or does she know…?
Who gives a shit?
All that matters is the book.
Moments later, Jarvis enters, bearing my jacket, a box of green tea and an update: "Mr. Grimm's car is waiting for him, Ms. Cabal."
"Very good, Jarvis."
He hands me my coat and the tea with a professional smile. Course, if this tea does to me every night what it did to me tonight, won't plan on getting much work done.
Rise from my seat, taking one last look at Ms. Cabal, finishing her wine, watching her lips on the edge of the glass, as the liquid grape descends down her slender throat.
As if to demonstrate that she knows I'm watching her, her eyes turn upward, still enslaving me even from that angle.
A final reminder that I’m still chained?
She sets the glass down and shakes her head disapprovingly, “Forgetting something, Darwin?”
Ah shit, what'd I do--or not do--now?
Follow her eyes to the laptop that was set before me, and then remember—the CD!
Immediately pop the disk out of the drive and slip it into my coat.
Offer worthless words: “Sorry, Ms. Cabal.”
Her response sounds like she's still questioning my commitment to this endeavor: “The next draft I read from you, I expect you to put my notes to good use.”
“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”
Might as well called her “Mistress” then, she's as domineering here as she ever has been in my…dreams.
Look back at her once last time as I slip on my jacket, but she's done with me, fixated with whatever's on her laptop.
But again, that’s cool, I don’t want to stay anyway.
Well, I’d stay to fuck her, or even eat out her box, but that’s not going to happen.
At least, not yet.
That’s why part of me is hoping that whole dugeon scene was real, because she gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe one day, I can taste her.
Mouth waters at merely the prospect.
But it’s all just fantasy.
Or is it…?
Feel a slight twinge of pain in my wrist, like it would feel if it had been restrained for a prolonged period of time.
Roll up the left sleeve, but there’s no mark anywhere on the skin.
Decide to just leave that an unsolvable mystery.
Head is swimming with ideas for the book.
Only question is, which one do I tackle first?
Thinking of delving into my past, as if to exorcise the demons from my youth that presented themselves front and center to me when I was out of body earlier this evening.
Receiving a strong image of my catholick school years, and that is where I was indoctrinated into christianity. Before then, it was all pretty vague to me. I was into xmas for the whole Santa booty thing.
Wouldn't hurt to start with that, maybe it'll trigger a waterfall of writing pouring from me.
Just as I step outside, the car summoned for me arrives and Jarvis holds open the door, I thank him and slip into the car, which promptly speeds off, driven a man of some sort of Eastern European descent.
As we go up and down hills towards my home,
...but am not blinded at all by the all the light provided by that magnificent chandelier overhead.
Yes, I'm back in Ms. Cabal's library, like I never went anywhere.
And I probably didn't.
Ms. Cabal isn't paying any special attention to me, looking over something in her laptop.
Then she turns to me with an equally casual smile, inquiring, "Did you enjoy your tea, Darwin?"
(Want to say, "Other than the fact it made me either pass out, hallucinate or both, I liked it just fine, Ms. Cabal.")
Instead, I smile back and say blandly, "Yes, thank you, Ms. Cabal."
We're both acting like nothing happened at all, which in her case might be completely appropriate behavior.
Me, on the other hand, well I just might be cracking up.
Ms. Cabal's still on the tea: "It's from China, where they use younger leaves to give it a fresher taste.”
I don't mention that bitter undertaste, if there even was one.
She returns her attention to her laptop, and speaks into a built-in microphone, “Jarvis, please have the driver bring a car around to take Mr. Grimm home. And bring him his coat and a box of that green tea you served to the library.”
Her way of letting me know that the evening is over.
“Am I leaving?”
“Yes, Darwin. Our business is concluded for the evening. I have other matters to attend to, and you, of course, have much writing before you.”
“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”
She doesn’t know how right she is—itching to get in front of my monitor.
Or does she know…?
Who gives a shit?
All that matters is the book.
Moments later, Jarvis enters, bearing my jacket, a box of green tea and an update: "Mr. Grimm's car is waiting for him, Ms. Cabal."
"Very good, Jarvis."
He hands me my coat and the tea with a professional smile. Course, if this tea does to me every night what it did to me tonight, won't plan on getting much work done.
Rise from my seat, taking one last look at Ms. Cabal, finishing her wine, watching her lips on the edge of the glass, as the liquid grape descends down her slender throat.
As if to demonstrate that she knows I'm watching her, her eyes turn upward, still enslaving me even from that angle.
A final reminder that I’m still chained?
She sets the glass down and shakes her head disapprovingly, “Forgetting something, Darwin?”
Ah shit, what'd I do--or not do--now?
Follow her eyes to the laptop that was set before me, and then remember—the CD!
Immediately pop the disk out of the drive and slip it into my coat.
Offer worthless words: “Sorry, Ms. Cabal.”
Her response sounds like she's still questioning my commitment to this endeavor: “The next draft I read from you, I expect you to put my notes to good use.”
“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”
Might as well called her “Mistress” then, she's as domineering here as she ever has been in my…dreams.
Look back at her once last time as I slip on my jacket, but she's done with me, fixated with whatever's on her laptop.
But again, that’s cool, I don’t want to stay anyway.
Well, I’d stay to fuck her, or even eat out her box, but that’s not going to happen.
At least, not yet.
That’s why part of me is hoping that whole dugeon scene was real, because she gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe one day, I can taste her.
Mouth waters at merely the prospect.
But it’s all just fantasy.
Or is it…?
Feel a slight twinge of pain in my wrist, like it would feel if it had been restrained for a prolonged period of time.
Roll up the left sleeve, but there’s no mark anywhere on the skin.
Decide to just leave that an unsolvable mystery.
Head is swimming with ideas for the book.
Only question is, which one do I tackle first?
Thinking of delving into my past, as if to exorcise the demons from my youth that presented themselves front and center to me when I was out of body earlier this evening.
Receiving a strong image of my catholick school years, and that is where I was indoctrinated into christianity. Before then, it was all pretty vague to me. I was into xmas for the whole Santa booty thing.
Wouldn't hurt to start with that, maybe it'll trigger a waterfall of writing pouring from me.
Just as I step outside, the car summoned for me arrives and Jarvis holds open the door, I thank him and slip into the car, which promptly speeds off, driven a man of some sort of Eastern European descent.
As we go up and down hills towards my home,
posted by Darwin Grimm at 12:44 AM
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