by JD Nixon
In the end, Tom settled the argument by flipping a coin. Griffin won and chose to go first, which gave him the advantage of capturing the audience’s attention at the beginning. But it also left Malefic with the advantage of having the final word in his rebuttal. Each man seemed satisfied with his choice.
“Isn’t it strange that two men should be debating the benefits of chastity, when they’ll mostly be alluding to women when they speak,” I said. “I mean, let’s not kid ourselves that this virginity movement is mostly directed at young women, to keep them pure for their future husbands.”
“When I look around the hall, I see equal numbers of men and women.”
“Come on, Hugh. Open your eyes. That Griffin man was all about the importance of girls remaining pure, but was hypocritically tolerant of boys not doing the same, because as you know, ‘boys will be boys’. The double standards make me sick.”
“But you wouldn’t sit in judgement on a young girl who decided to keep her virginity intact for her future marriage.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. It’s very much a personal choice. And as long as the girl has made the decision for herself, it’s a truly important value to her, and she isn’t being coerced or guilted or brain-washed into that decision, I have no issue at all. After all, it’s none of my business if she does choose that. I just dislike the hypocrisy of older men, who probably have lived it up in their time and spend every second night jacking off to internet porn, preaching chastity to girls. It’s better if all teens learn about healthy sexual relationships and contraception before they start being sexually active.”
“Teenage pregnancies aren’t going to disappear.”
“I know, but teens could be made more aware of their options. And it’s easy to pick on single mothers, but when do you hear people castigating the fathers who’ve pissed off on them, leaving them to raise their children themselves?”
“Not all men are like that, Chalmers. Many of us cherish our children. Or would if we had any.”
“I know. My own father and my brothers are, or will be, the same. I’m probably being a hot head, but it’s one of those red-button issues for me.”
“You hide it well,” he said, faintly sarcastic.
We watched while Harriet scuttled around the stage, continually rearranging the furniture to the satisfaction of the debaters. Every time she was forced to pass by Malefic, she gave him a wide berth. Of course he noticed, relishing, as always, his ability to make ordinary people uncomfortable in his presence.
“Do you think he’ll cause any problems?” Farrell asked.
“He’s definitely here to stir up trouble. He’ll get under Griffin’s skin for sure. Last time he did that, he picked the wrong person and he ended up with some bullet wounds for his trouble.”
“That explains the limping and the cane. I thought maybe they were affectations.”
“He’s certainly turned his adversity into affectations. I’m surprised he’s walking around so well. That bullet in his stomach must have caused a bit of damage, let alone the one in his leg.”
“It’s like you conjure these sorts of people up.”
“If I conjured him up, it was from the dark recesses of my nightmares. I’m still wondering what his ulterior motive is in being here. While he’ll no doubt enjoy needling that pompous git, Griffin, that can’t be the only reason he’s come here today. I don’t recall seeing any news stories about him being out in public since he was shot. And he’d be fairly newsworthy, considering Turbot and Tank’s counsel are in argument with the prosecution about the date of their trial and the media are all over that at the moment.”
“Could it be something to do with the virgins? He seems quite interested in them. Do you think they’re in any danger from him?”
“Possibly. He did seem enthusiastic about harnessing their purity.”
“I thought that was just a load of crap.”
“Well, in a way, it is and it isn’t. It sounds like ridiculous posturing to us, but to him it signifies something very important, which is the real worry. If he believes he needs virgin purity to unlock greater putrescence or whatever he said, then maybe he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“Hard to know if he’s just bullshitting or truly believes that rubbish.”
“One thing for sure – I’ll be keeping a very close eye on him.”
“That will be two of us doing the same.”
Chapter 27
First to speak, Griffin virtually repeated verbatim what he’d said in his keynote speech. He offered no new insights into his logic about why girls should value their virginity more than boys, but ramped up his rhetoric to almost feverish levels. I badly wanted someone to heckle him, but in this hall he was preaching to the converted.
The audience didn’t seem to care about his mindless repetition or gross hypocrisy though, carried away in their enthusiasm for his message. Fired up with the righteousness of his argument, it was always going to be a tough gig for Malefic to follow, though he gave it his best shot.
He stood at the lectern, his eyes closed, head slightly back, his black hair blowing gently in the breeze created by the overhead fans. “Writhing, naked bodies, slick with sweat and exertion, surrendering free will to the pleasures of the body, touching, tasting, licking, exploring, feeling the damp wetness of every hole, filling them with lips and fingers and tongues, gliding hardness through soft, yielding flesh until the final moment of rapture and ecstasy, prolonging it, prolonging it, until release is no longer an option but a necessity, the spilling of the essence a sacrifice to Asmodeus, debaser of human desire, promoter of lust.” He opened his eyes and looked around the silent hall, every person’s attention fixed on him. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love fucking.”
The hall full of people sharply inhaled as one, gasping in shock at his blunt crudity.
“There’s no need for such vile language,” spluttered Griffin, jumping to his feet in outrage.
“But that’s why we’re here, is it not? To debate the merits of fucking?”
Griffin appealed to the horror-stricken organisers. “I refuse to carry on a debate with someone who resorts to indecent language like this man has.”
“Mr Malefic, please refrain from cursing in this debate,” begged a desperate Tom, seeing a key attraction in his carefully planned program crumbling away to disaster.
“But of course, if you insist.” Malefic bowed ironically to Tom and Griffin, who was appeased enough to take to his seat again, if not to wipe the petulant expression from his face. “My apologies,” he said to the attendees. “I seemed to have misjudged my audience.”
“He must have realised the fuss that opening was going to cause,” I whispered to Farrell. “He’s such a shit-stirrer.”
“I thought it was just getting interesting,” whispered back Farrell.
“You have very dubious taste, Hugh.”
“I know. That’s why I like you.”
I elbowed him lightly in the arm and settled back to listen to Malefic. Unperturbed by his reprimand, that man continued his opening speech, a surprisingly lucid and rational argument. In my opinion, he certainly blew Griffin out of the water, not that the audience would agree.
Griffin’s rebuttal was perfunctory, repetitive and banal, not landing any hard punches. It surprised me that Tom and Miriam couldn’t find a speaker with better arguments and credentials than him.
Malefic’s rebuttal was smooth, but brief, illuminating the weaknesses and contradictions of Griffin’s speech with a politeness that verged on cruelty at times. Griffin sat on stage, slowly turning red. He may not have been a subtle man by nature, but he understood when someone was making fun of him. It didn’t sit well with his high opinion of himself.
The debaters were allowed a bit of free discussion with each other while still on stage. Griffin took a predictable path, disparaging Malefic’s morality, his appearance, his earlier profanity, his lateness, and his group of supporters, who he described as
“ghoulish mimickers of their master”.
Malefic sat impassively through the tirade, jotting down a few notes that may have just been doodles. When it came to his turn to speak, his comments were very benign.
“Griffin, I’ve looked at your website and it’s impressive. Congratulations. It’s hard to find a nice balance between aesthetics and necessary information on many sites these days.” He addressed the audience. “Folks, if you haven’t yet, I would strongly recommend visiting Griffin’s website.”
“Thank you, Mr Malefic. My daughter was responsible for much of it. She’s a professional website designer.”
“That professional touch shines through. Again, congratulations on such a fine job.”
“What’s he up to?” I asked Farrell in a low voice.
“Who knows,” he replied. “Luring Griffin into a false sense of security?”
Malefic continued. “From the information on your website, I gather that you do many school and community group visits to discuss the pro-virginity movement.”
“Yes,” Griffin affirmed, though a little more wary about where this was heading.
“Do you also do many of these debates?”
“Yes. I do many visits and debates. I’m quite in demand as a speaker.”
“I can see I’ve met my match today in a man who does a lot of these debates. I’m quite the novice in comparison to you.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. As I said, I’ve done many, many debates.”
“This is quite a large audience today, about a thousand attendees I believe?” Minus two, I thought, thinking of Old Dude and Ms Lusty. “Have you debated to larger audiences?”
“Oh yes. I’ve been on television, so I’ve debated to an audience of millions.”
“Millions?” Malefic’s eyebrows shot up high. “Imagine my thinking I’d have a chance against a person who’s debated to masses of people like you. I can only hope one day to also be as skilled a mass debater as you.”
“Thank you again, Mr Malefic. So kind of you. I don’t like to brag, but to borrow your term, I would describe myself as a very experienced mass debater, and I’d be more than glad to give you advice on the finer techniques any day.”
A faint smile of satisfaction on his face, Malefic rose and bowed towards Griffin, the audience and the organisers. “Thanks for this enjoyable debate. Enjoy the rest of the program.” He stepped down, swallowed up by his acolytes, sweeping past everyone to the foyer.
“Now that was classic,” I laughed.
“He reeled him in hook, line and sinker,” Farrell agreed, a whole half-smile on his mouth.
Titters spread throughout the members of the audience, leaving Griffin sitting alone on the stage growing increasingly puzzled by their mirth. The very moment a light bulb went on in his brain was evident in his sudden leap from the chair, his nostrils flaring as he pointed towards the doorway. “That man . . .” he spluttered. “That despicable, foul man has made a laughing stock of me.”
Tom rushed on stage, making every attempt to soothe his ruffled feathers. “I’m so sorry, Griffin. We’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
“Let go of me,” he shouted in Tom’s face, kicking Malefic’s recently vacated chair over on its side. He pushed Tom away and stormed off the stage, heading for the doorway. “I’ll make him apologise even if I have to thump it out of him.”
“Uh oh,” I said, moving to the door, Farrell ahead of me.
Malefic had unwisely hung around instead of taking advantage of his lead to leg it. He’d had his fun, so why would he hang around for the inevitable consequences?
“You!” yelled Griffin. “You . . . you butthead.”
“Careful with those obscenities, Griffin,” Malefic taunted. “We wouldn’t want any of the old biddies to faint.”
“You made a fool of me.”
“I believe you did that all by yourself, you empty braggart.”
“I have achieved more in a month than you will ever achieve in a lifetime, you peacock.”
“Are you sure of that? I’ve learned a lot from my Masters.”
Griffin butted toes with him, eye to eye. Malefic didn’t flinch at all. Instead, he placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder and muttered some archaic words, his eyes glued to Griffin’s the entire time.
A shiver ran up my spine as he did. Memories of similar mutterings when he’d touched me reminded me of the feelings he’d evoked during that experience.
Griffin swayed in place, his eyes fluttering half-shut.
“What are you doing to him?” asked an alarmed Miriam, shouldering her way through the crowd thronging in the doorway, curious about the showdown.
Malefic didn’t respond, all his concentration on his incantation, or whatever he called it. When he released his grip, Griffin shook his head, dazed. He held out his hand.
“Excellent debate, Mr Malefic. I enjoyed every minute of it and look forward to opposing you again one day,” he said with non-forced jollity.
Malefic shook his hand heartily. “I do too, Griffin. I really do.”
Now happy, Griffin thanked the stunned organisers, signed a few autographs and left, pleased with how things had turned out.
“That’s so creepy,” I said to Farrell.
“He just hypnotised him. The mumbo jumbo is simply for show, Chalmers. Don’t get suckered in by him.”
“You think it’s just hypnosis?”
“Yep. Watch him when he does it again. He stares into his subject’s eyes the whole time. He’s a gifted hypnotist though. He should have made better use of his natural talent and become a psychologist or something similar. Someone who can provide therapeutic help to people, not just bend them to his will.”
“Wow. That’s really enlightening, Hugh.” I thought for a moment. “But he doesn’t give them any instructions like you see hypnotists doing on TV.”
“That’s the thing I can’t figure out. It’s almost as if he’s communicating with his victims via some kind of telepathy, except he’s not picking up their thoughts, he’s transmitting to them instead.”
“Well, however he’s doing it, it’s clear we’re not dealing with an ordinary person.”
“No,” Farrell agreed. “One thing he’s not is ordinary.”
“Afternoon tea,” Miriam announced weakly, looking as though she needed a good lie down and a couple of painkillers. Harriet held her head as she nodded, sharing in Miriam’s headache woes.
Malefic seemed in no hurry to leave. Farrell and I exchanged glances when a crowd of young ladies surrounded him, asking questions. He sipped a cup of coffee, smiling mysteriously and only answering every second question, leaving them giggling.
“What is it with women and guys who are bad for them,” grumbled Farrell. “Can’t those girls see those creepy spectres standing behind him? Is that what they want for their future? I bet it’s not what their parents want.”
“It’s the eternal allure of the forbidden or the shocking. They’ll grow out of it when they realise a lot of bad boys are just selfish arseholes.”
“That include Heller?”
I lowered my eyes, so he couldn’t read them. “He’s not perfect.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in what other people think of him. I’ll make up my own mind based on my experience.”
“You know a side of him nobody else in the business does.”
“Exactly. He’s not always a cold hardarse.”
“Is he treating you well? That’s all I care about.”
I looked at my boots again. He was far too perceptive for me to feel relaxed about discussing my relationship with Heller with him face to face. I nodded in response, but thoroughly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, I mumbled something about needing the bathroom and fled.
I splashed my face, berating myself for running away again. There came a time in a wo
man’s life when she couldn’t avoid difficult or painful subjects any longer. I was rapidly reaching that point in mine, perhaps precipitated by Dad’s death. I’d always acknowledged that I was somewhat of an emotional coward, not willing to deal with certain issues in my life. But I’d begun to realise that if I never really questioned myself, how would I ever grow and become a better person?
It wasn’t really the time or place to become so philosophical. I splashed my face again, told myself to harden up and rejoined Farrell.
The dinging of the bell advised the attendees it was time to reconvene for the final breakout session for the day. Malefic’s new fan club didn’t budge, standing around him, hanging on his every wanky word.
“Ladies,” I said to them. “Time to go back inside. Say goodbye to Malefic.”
“But we don’t want to,” pouted one of the teens. “This conference is boring.”
“There’s another breakout session on next. They’re always interesting,” I lied.
“No, they’re not. They’re all for old people like you,” said another young lady.
I gave her a tight smile – I must be a whole decade older than her. I tried to herd the unwilling group to safety inside the hall, away from the virgin-hunter. “I’m sure your parents would disagree. This conference wasn’t cheap and you shouldn’t waste their money.”
“We won’t tell them if you don’t,” said the first madam, the leader of the group.
“You heard my colleague, ladies,” instructed Farrell in a no-nonsense voice. “Time to go inside again.”
“Make us,” dared that same bold teen, drawing appreciative giggles from her mates. She glanced up at Malefic, rewarded for her cheekiness by him bestowing the suggestion of a benevolent smile on her.
“If I have to pick you up one by one and carry you inside, I will.”
“Touch us and we’ll scream,” threatened our young headache to more sniggers. What was more painful than dealing with a smartarse teen determined to show off in front of an older man and her friends?
