Art by Frank Frazetta
(Previously on confessions: Mine. A death at the coast and a stain I could no longer pretend wasn’t there. Darce heard it all without flinching, as though guilt were merely another spice in life’s indulgent stew. I, already halfway damned, promised to place her latest adventure before Kot.)
She wasn’t afraid with me!
That night, I was all devotion to her, crawling on my knees, kissing her feet, reducing her to a tinkling nervous laugh. At first, she was upset, then fascinated, then ashamed that such a fine gentleman (I believe I am a fine gentleman, despite being a degenerate) could swoon to such a little slut.
It’s a jolly good thing that there always are and will be sensualists, masters, and slaves to hedonist impulses in the world, so there always will be a little guilt to carry, and that’s all that’s needed for happiness!
She wasn’t afraid with me!
The nervous laugh was not a sign of conceited delight, though it made a good counterfeit at the time. I’ll tell you why in the near future, but for now, I beg you to walk with me, my dear reader; let’s not leap.
So, as promised to the Amadis, I sought Kot the moment I got back to country. It had been a minute since we last shared a pint and a smoke, besides work.
We were in this industry for our baser desires, yet since our big venture with the Amadis, it all felt bland, the debauchery drab and exhausting. And none more than Kot wanted out. Ironically, these were his ‘people.’
“I can’t…. I can’t sit across from him yet,” he said, wiping froth from his upper lip.
“I know. You can take as much time away as you need,” I said kindly. The haunting look of horror hadn’t left his eyes since the tragic night at the coast.
“As much time away as I need? Obi, I thought we were leaving this partnership altogether?” He cried.
“There is this,” I said, handing the dungeon portfolio to him.
“What is this?” He asked, making no move to touch it. I put it beside his pint and sat back to light a cigarette.
“See for yourself,” I said, blowing smoke to the ceiling and stretching in my seat in the booth in feigned pleasure, then sat back and watched him expectantly.
As he perused the pages, his face got darker and darker, if at all that was possible, and the creases on his forehead deeper. And with every tag of emotion in his face, I drew greedily from my smoke; this was absolute cinema!
“So now he wants a torture house, the creep!” He mouthed, his voice thick with revulsion.
“This isn’t his,” I said slowly.
“Then whose is it?”
“Darce.”
“What difference does it make?” He asked darkly. “Oh, don’t tell me, I know!” He said, laughing in derision.
“I told them I’ll run it by you first.”
“Run it by me? Obi, I’m in no mood for your games right now.”
“What games?”
“Run it by me? Run it by me as if I’ve ever deterred you from burning your fingers.”
“Easy now, Kot,” I said calmly, and nodding in appreciation as the waitress put my bourbon on the table.
“You can get us a platter of wings each,” I asked her.
“No, make that one, I won’t be staying long,” Kot said.
“Bring two platters, my lady. I’ll have the gentleman’s share,” I smiled at her disarmingly to taper the sting in Kot’s voice.
“Come on, let’s enjoy the evening, the Amadis are thousands of miles away, we shouldn’t let them sour our moment,” I said, taking a sip of the whiskey and feeling it warm my chest.
“If I am to sit here and listen to you with that nonchalant smirk, at least promise that you’ll tell me what it is you have with Darcie, and why you can’t see above your shoe. You’re a smart guy, Obi, hell, one of the smartest people I know! Yet I can’t understand why you can’t see the danger staring us in the face.”
“Isn’t that why we do what we do?” I leaned closer and whispered, “The danger!” passing a smoke to him and holding out my lighter.
