I was really confused. The exchange that had occurred seemed too easy.
It took a long time for me to understand. I had to piece it together from murmurs and hints.
It was a jungle. It was literally a jungle. And it was also metaphorically a jungle. Unlikely alliances are common in jungles of the latter variety. As any New York deputy would attest.
Interests had converged and what I had witnessed was merely a formality. A way for both Cook and Costa to assure each other that a mutual understanding was honored.
Nothing in the conversation could implicate either man, even if they were being recorded. This thought made my spooky soul giggle. You can lodge a bug right in your target’s colon but you can’t beat good old-fashioned bullshit. A turn of phrase, nonverbal codes, a list of blasphemies for the NSA.
I think they call it social engineering. I was always annoyed by this term even though it was technically part and parcel of my job description. I guess I’m old-fashioned in my disdain for euphemisms. Social engineering is just good old fashioned bullshit.
“What do you think about lying?” I shotgunned. Hoping to catch her off guard mid stretch.
She dropped on her back from the edge of the bed where she was sitting. Rolling over on her stomach and shimmying on top of me her lips found mine. Our tongues met and then suddenly I felt a slight pain. She’d bitten my tongue…
It was blessedly brief. In just over a second she’d shot up and giggled.
“What kind of question is that…you have asked…have you lied to me…I will bite off…off the tongue…”
My fears were somewhat allayed. There had been none of that tell-tale stiffening. One would think that a well-known ‘out’ for a honeypot would be ineffective and thus you’d have to find a new one. But actually familiarity made a reaction harder to mask.
Though I was still suspicious. This sudden tryst had gone a touch too smoothly. I’m not a putz but I’m no Casanova. I’m far too analytical to be a lady-killer.
“It was a test.”
“O…a tehhhst…well so what position are you to test me…” Her obtuse nordic indignation was more Swedish than Finnish.
Which was opportune since she basically handed me the keys to the mansion of sophomoric wordplay.
“How about sideways…let’s gauge structural integrity…”
‘Ewww…’ I was grossed out by my awkward banter but she didn’t seem to notice and I quickly remedied the chance of a spoiled moment with sheer physicality.
We went on for a few more rounds.
“There it was.” She said.
I turned my head to look into her eyes and raised a brow in question.
“You looked at me like you look at her… You were so hungry …but she does not get you…she always gets the fun…”
And it all made sense. It was a repeat of my last romance. Accidental jealousy. A surprisingly effective aphrodisiac.
Still…I was paranoid.
Like with the pow-wow full enlightenment would take some days.
It seemed that Anna, the dirty blonde doing her doctoral dissertation was Aada’s sister. I mean I knew that. They were both Finnish, treating each other with the sort of disinterested familiarity that was more common among families rather than friends. Years ago Saara had taught me some basics which in Brazil coming from an American was I guess…’sexy.’ Or probably just nice.
Anyway, I’d taken no care to mask my lust. I was undoubtedly a touch wild-eyed. Not that it was the least bit surprising considering how rarely female presence and how even more rarely female attention graced us these past couple of years.
Aada had smiled quietly in the corner. And though I favored her reddish blonde head to the more typical indecisiveness of Anna’s. Anna seemed absolutely taken with me. Which to a lonely man was like finding water in the desert.
But nothing had come of the exchange. She left abruptly after receiving a text. I did note that Aada had turned to look at me one last time before they exited Cook’s sitting room.
She was asleep now. I kissed the top of that auburn celebration that so reminded of New England autumn’s at my uncle’s cabin. Scarcely knowing the annoying secret that lay beneath those locks.
Part I – Kentucky Door
1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe
1.2 The Cajun Prayer
Part II – The Wizard’s Nod
Help a Hipster