The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “An offer I can’t refuse right?” She took a deep breath, annoyed.

  “You’re damn straight it is. I will focus on you exclusively, all right? I’ll cancel my other activities, if you will, so my concentration is solely on you. That should provide you a sense of security. No more Cage visits, hookups, booty-calls, fucking ex-girlfriends until otherwise specified. I’ll let The Cage staff know as soon as I leave here that I will be taking a hiatus.”

  “Really? You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I would never be attracted to an idiot. An imbecile maybe, but never an idiot.” He burst out laughing at his own joke. She grimaced and shook her head.

  “You expect me to believe someone like you, a proudly promiscuous, tall, muscular, very attractive and financially thriving bachelor with a king-sized ego is—”

  “And king-sized dick. Don’t forget that part.”

  She rolled her eyes. “…Is going to not have sex with another woman while you give me consultations, whatever that entails, and we date? You must think I’ve been living under a rock.” She chortled.

  The man didn’t smile. He didn’t move. He didn’t break a sweat.

  “I am giving myself to you for two months straight.” He held up two fingers. “I’m not going to announce when the time is over. If you wish to stop once that date arrives, you tell me. If you want to continue with our relationship, mention nothing of it. We will just go on as usual. Two months is enough time for us to figure all of this out, give it a chance. You have to take risks in life, baby. You can either take what you learn from me and apply it to another man you meet who you can then attempt to educate on what I’ll be teaching you, in hopes that he’ll be able to make you feel like I do, or, you can stick with me and get all of your pussy work directly from the horse’s mouth. The real McCoy. That’s of course if you don’t do something to completely piss me the fuck off… make me wash my hands of you. With peppermint soap,” he joked. She barely smiled. “Regardless, Yasmine, I want this opportunity to prove to you that I’m worth your time and to prove to me, that you’re worth the fucking effort.” She looked at him for what felt like the longest, trying to sew together the right words. Instead, something unsophisticated rolled out.

  “I’m not buying any of this shit. My mother always told me, if it looks like a snake, moves like a snake, sounds like a snake, it’s a snake. You won’t be able to do that. Just be honest. I am one of many, aren’t I?”

  “No. I’ve never offered this to anyone else before. I never gave anyone else my business card before. Those consultations were for a select few but I never wanted anything more from them than sex… and to help, of course. Consider yourself special.” Used car salesman antics. “Look, baby, it’s simple, really. Don’t complicate it. I’m trying to meet you halfway, give you an insurance policy, if you will. Don’t be scared. I may surprise you. I could be exactly what you want, forked tongue and all.”

  He snapped his fingers in the air. The waiter finally arrived, snatching her out of the moment.

  “I’m so sorry for the wait! Oh, my goodness.” He shook his head as if exasperated. “We’re a bit short-staffed today. Have you both decided what you want?” The server asked. Raze slowly stood from the table, grabbed his suitcase, and ran his hand along his chiseled jaw as he looked down at her. Intense heat dwelled in his eyes… reminding her of the gaze of a horned beast.

  “Yeah. I know exactly what I want. I made it clear, already picked it off the menu.” He smiled at her, then winked in that maddening way of his. “As for the lady, give her whatever she wishes. Put it on my company credit card. It’s on file with the restaurant manager. At my law firm we are regulars here.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s perfectly fine.”

  “Wonderful. Meeting adjourned.”

  “What? No, hold up! It’s not perfectly fine. Nix! Are you serious? You’re leaving?” I don’t believe this shit! She hated how shrill her voice became as her irritation soared.

  “Yeah. You need time to think. I’d hate for you to fuck up and make the wrong decision. Drink and eat up. I’ll contact you when I feel like it.”

  You piece of shit. She would have said it verbally had she not been so concerned about being overheard. The crowd was thickening like pea soup.

  “How the hell am I getting back to the office?! I didn’t drive over here. You picked me up!” she called out when he turned and began to walk away just as cool as he pleased.

  “Call the number on the slip of paper in the back of the journal. Max will make sure you get anywhere you may need to go today. He’s the firm’s driver. My treat.” He raised his arm in the air to wave goodbye but never stopped or deigned her with a glance. Floetry’s, ‘Say Yes’ played through the speakers in the restaurant as he slipped away like a dark vapor, a murky shadow with a mind of its own. He was the death of all that was steadfast and made sense.

  This didn’t just happen… This man did not just do this to me!

  She sat there, her stomach in knots. A rush of mingled excitement and fury raced within her, pulling her apart in two different directions. She looked at the waiter, then at the door.

  “I… I will have the fried brussels sprouts and bar harbor mussels, please. Oh, and a glass of white wine. House is fine.”

  “Great choices. I’ll get it right out to you.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “Yes?”

  “He told you not to come over here, didn’t he? That’s why it really took you so long, isn’t it?”

  The waiter’s face grew red.

  “Uh, yes… Mr. Rossellini doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s in meetings.”

  She sucked her teeth and shook her head in disbelief.

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. That sly son of a bitch… he planned this all along. Made sure he got out everything he wanted to say, then dipped. Okay, thank you.” The waiter nodded, removed the menus, and sauntered away. Just as she was cursing Nixon, Raze, the gotdamn Satyr – whatever the hell he called himself – out in her head, her cell phone buzzed with a notification of a new text message. She snatched it off the table and read it:

  I’m sure by now you’ve ordered a delicious lunch.

  BTW, I didn’t leave you alone, baby. I left you with a friend, someone you can trust.

  You have the journal.

  Get started.

  We have work to do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Have the Cake and Eat it, Too!

  Nixon’s head swam within ripples of the wine he’d just consumed. Clad in his long black robe and sunglasses, he stared at the cream walls of his place, red light bouncing off them. The glorious sounds of Sa-Roc’s ‘Forever’ added to the ambiance, the music so loud the place seemed to be alive, breathing, vibrating, making the darkness within him fade to a lighter shade of gray with each thump of the beat. His mood was mellow yet focused. He spun around, cigar in hand, his eyes landing on the main attraction: a floor-to-ceiling clear pole filled with tropical fish in the middle of the living room. It was the brightest light in the area, the clear water and rainbow colored bubbles definitely an attention grabber.

  Tossing his sunglasses on the couch, he took a draw of his cigar. Swirls of smoke escaped both sides of his mouth as he envisioned the worst, keeping expectations low.

  She tried to draw this out… but she finally called back and agreed to come by. Came to her senses. Nevertheless, she still might chicken out. When I called her yesterday and told her to come over this evening, she seemed to be fine with it. She’s wishy washy though – I can tell she lives in her head a lot. Talks herself out of things. That’s part of the fun for me. But if she doesn’t come, that would be a shame. I’d be disappointed. Although I put nothing past anyone at this point in my life…

  At this point, there was no turning back. He truly wanted this experience and the reasons why were far more complex than he was willing to fully explore right then. I want this to happen. I need to find out if my instinct is right… that
she’s a good fit for me. What can I do though? Just have to roll with it I guess. I mean, I can’t make a horse drink, no matter how good the water in my well tastes. He kept smoking, dancing, getting into the groove. Just then, he heard the sound he’d hoped for – the doorman phoning him. He pressed the blinking light on the wall.

  “Hey, Quincy.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Rossellini. A Ms. Prince is here to see you.”

  “Send her up.” In less than five minutes, his doorbell chimed.

  Grinning, bobbing his head to the beat, he sauntered to the door, bare feet sliding against the slick floor as he swayed to the rhythm. He unlocked the door, a light purple haze floating by from four sticks of potent sex-on-the-beach scented incense. There she stood in a pair of tight jeans, shiny red heels like Dorothy from the damn Wizard of Oz, and a cute red cropped turtleneck underneath an unzipped black leather jacket. He smiled at his beautiful guest then ushered her inside and closed the door behind her. She jumped at the sound.

  “Hi. Nice to see you. You’re late.”

  She threw him a look over her shoulder.

  “Yeah… work ran late.”

  He stared at her juicy round ass, savoring the moment as she walked about, taking everything in. He sensed both trepidation and curiosity. The crimson light bounced off her curves, coating her in ruby shades of sensuality.

  “Beautiful apartment. Interesting décor.” She ran her hand slowly along her arm, bunching the dark material of her jacket.

  “Thank you. You look good tonight.”

  “Thank you, Nix.” She studied him as if she wasn’t certain what to make of his appearance, then added, “So do you.”

  “Give me your coat.” He extinguished his cigar in an ashtray and helped her remove the jacket, then hung it in the coat closet. When he turned back towards her, she was standing by the fish tank. She appeared spellbound, mesmerized by the aquatic scene. “You’re looking at them like you’re thirsty. Want some of their water?” he teased. She laughed lightly. “Well? Are you thirsty? Would you like something to drink?”

  She ran her fingertip real slow down the slick glass.

  “I don’t know… I might. This is pretty. I’ve always liked fish. Looking at them is relaxing.”

  “That’s why I have them. They are like living art… Much like you.”

  Her lips curled in a smile.

  “I debated on getting a tank and a fish or two but I know I’m too busy for the upkeep.” She shrugged. “They’d all be belly up within days. I definitely don’t want that on my conscience.” He walked over to his stereo and changed the song: ‘Water’ by Kojey Radical.

  “They are on auto-feed.” He pointed to a small contraption attached to the tank. “I have someone come in every two weeks and clean it. Have a seat. I’ll be back with a glass of wine for you. La Follette Sangiacamo Chardonnay, fine?”

  “I’ve never had it before. In fact, I’m not good with that sort of thing.” She shrugged. “I like what I like but I’m not a wine aficionado or anything like that.”

  “Well, tonight is your lucky night. I’ll teach you about wine eventually, too.” He went to grab the bottle from the stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen. Selecting two glasses he’d picked up on his trip to Venice the previous year, he poured the beverages and brought them to the living room. Yasmine was sitting on his large L-shaped white couch, her long legs crossed and looking rather stiff and restless. “Here you go.” He handed her a glass and sat across from her on a round white loveseat.

  “Thank you. I, uh, wasn’t sure if I was going to come tonight.” She tucked one leg beneath herself and seemed to drift off into a daydream.

  Stretching his arm along the back of the chair, he burst with lust, threatening to spill over the rim of his desires at the mere sight of her, much like the glasses full of wine.

  “I know.”

  “I am still conflicted about this.”

  “I know.”

  “I decided to come because I’m nosey.” She smiled ever so slightly. “I want to see what you’re going to do, what you have in store for me.”

  “For us, Yasmine… what I have in store for us.” He took a sip then nodded. “Try it.”

  She did.

  “Mmm, this is good. I like it.” He opened a cubby in his clear coffee table that sat between them, mouthing the lyrics of the song as he rummaged through the contents.

  “…Something in the water…” He sang. “…Oh my God… I think there’s something in the water…” Ahhh, there it is.

  He pointed a remote control towards the wall and a fire ignited in the built-in fireplace that was really quite well hidden.

  “Oh, wow,” she said, clearly impressed. “That’s nice. Yeah, I like that…” Her voice trailed as she tapped the wine glass, looking a tad awkward. There was an innocence about this woman that he so loved. Despite her being who she was, there was still a part of her she protected, one that seemed to know no evil.

  “So.” He crossed his feet. “Let’s get into a bit of Q and A. Simple stuff.” He waved his hand then set his glass down.

  “Okay. Do you want to go first?”

  “Of course I do.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Hmm, well, I have two colors I love, but I think green is my favorite color. Jade, to be exact. You?”

  “This isn’t about me. I am providing a service while also trying to get to know you.”

  She took another sip of her wine and regarded him with a puzzled expression.

  “I want to know. You did say we are dating, despite the situation. Correct?” He took another leisurely sip of his wine.

  “Red.” She nodded. “Who is someone people say you look like?”

  “It changes from time to time. People say I look like… well, I’ve gotten Janelle Monae a few times. Do you know who she is?”

  “Of course I do. A singer who’s also done some acting. I believe she is a songwriter, too. Quite talented, actually.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah… I can see that. There’s a resemblance.”

  “Who do people tell you that you look like?” she tossed back.

  “I’m never really told I resemble anyone in particular. Okay, last question. Where—”

  “Nope. Not so fast.” She waved her finger. “I’ll tell you who you resemble. I thought of it as soon as I saw you at The Cage.”

  “Who?”

  “Matthew Del Negro.” He chuckled at that. “A ha! People have told you that you look like him.”

  “Yeah, a couple people have, but I don’t see it…”

  “You do, trust me. The only difference is your complexion is a bit darker than his and you have blue eyes. Okay, what’s the next question?”

  “If you could travel to any country in the world tomorrow, where would it be?” He knew she’d not necessarily pick up right away his reasoning for asking such things; they seemed fairly random, but her answers would surely help him unwrap some of her secrets.

  “Hmmm, okay. If I could go anywhere in the world, I’d go to Kenya. I always wanted to visit there.”

  “East Africa. Okay.”

  “Yes. It tops my travel bucket list. My best friend, Goldie, went a few years ago and loved it.”

  “I’ve been to Ethiopia, Madagascar, Tanzania and Kenya.” Her eyes widened as if she were duly impressed. “Very interesting place to be. Makes you appreciate what we take for granted living here, but also, I found myself admiring many of the various customs, people, the music… It was life-changing.”

  She seemed to want to ask more, but didn’t. He leaned forward to set his glass down and his robe flopped open as he did so. When he leaned back, he found her eyes on him. He wore nothing beneath that bit of clothing, allowing her full view. Just as he intended.

  “You want me to fuck you tonight?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “Do you like what you see?” He tapped his hand to the beat of
the music.

  “Yeah…” Her gorgeous big, dark brown eyes hooded.

  “What do you see?”

  “You.”

  “Let me ask again. What do you see?” He leaned forward once more, grabbed a cigar and lit it.

  “When you lit that lighter so close to your face, it made your eyes look much brighter. Kind of trippy.” He tossed the damned thing down and crossed one leg over the other. She was quiet for a few moments, but kept her eyes on him as she kept drinking.

  “I didn’t ask you about the lighter. My face. My eyes. What do you see?”

  After a few seconds, her words broke the stillness.

  “A mysterious man with a beautiful home, with—”

  “No. Let’s start over.” He waved his hand about. “Listen to the question, baby.”

  “I did listen!” she stated, clearly aggravated.

  “You’re what they call book-smart. You memorize facts; you pay attention to nonverbal cues. But when it comes to abstract conversations, ones that are more philosophical in nature, you don’t listen as well. People say a lot when they’re not talking… and they say a lot when they ask one question, but are trying to drive at something else.”

  “Why not just say what you mean, and mean what you say? I do. It saves everyone a lot of time. I don’t play games. Games are for children.” Her lips pursed and her brows furrowed.

  “You don’t get it.” He blew out puffs of smoke and slowly shook his head. “If everything were black and white, clear and understandable, you wouldn’t have an entire world arguing over God’s existence. If things were so easy, like how you make them out to be, you wouldn’t have people getting divorces left and right due to lack of communication, misunderstandings, and all of that other shit. You wouldn’t have thousands of books dedicated to love languages, work languages, sex languages… all of it. That’s not how this works. That’s not how life works.”