Poison Control - Short Story

"Well?" she asked. I looked at her with both lust and contempt. Such a vain, vain woman. She has started to gain weight, and age has definitely catching up with her. Yet still she was mesmerizing. Her every movement, even the slightest one, sent me into a dizzying spiral of desire. The voice that promised heaven, the scent that promised paradise, the physique that promised your every wish will be fulfilled; how I hated her!

"Well what?" I replied casually, even though my heart beat so hard I was so sure she could hear it. She smirked. Oh Gods above! That smile! Those lips! What would I give to crushed them with mine. Berries. Her kisses always tasted like berries, as it was her favorite snack. Sometimes it would be the tang of wine, sometimes it would be the taste of miswak that she chewed to keep those pearly white teeth beautiful. It was irrelevant though, because you would always come back for more kisses; each hungrier than the last. Help me Gods, help me.

She looked right into my eyes, and to me, it felt she looked right into my soul. I suppressed a shudder. She was known as the most famous courtesan not for nothing. Regardless of your social status, a night with her means you will be king for the night: your ego stroked, your confidence boosted, your existence became the most important thing in the world. Even the Emperor himself was not immune to her charisma and accepting his fate to be just one among her many devotees. She could read your soul and made you hers, and you would gratefully accept your cruel fate. Not me, though. Not me.

I touched the gold ring around my ring finger and suddenly felt hot. The image of my wife flashed before my very eyes, graceful Amerys with her fragile physique and serene look. How dead she looked compare to this colorful creature. Amerys was so pale and so quiet, one could easily mistake her for a drowned victim when she sleeps. But unlike this creature, this horrible creature, Amerys has always been mine, all mine. That's why I had to go, I had to stop this feeling. Poor Amerys, she did not deserve to be treated like this, to be with a man who can't be loyal to her. I wanted to be a good husband for her.

"Don't do this," she whispered. Was there a hint of threat in her voice? Who knew. Her voice was lush and luxurious, like the soft animal fur that covered her entire boudoir. A scholar that I met at the bar one time told me bitterly, "Only a cruel, heartless person could live so comfortably among the slayed innocents like that." I secretly agreed with him, what was she if not cruel and heartless. Yet as I sat on her window sill a few nights after I thought I could see the scholar looked longingly at her window from afar. There he was, the innocent prey that would or has adorned her vicious parlor. I hated her for it, because I realized that I was also her prey.

The memory made my blood boil. I have to go. I have to get away from this wicked woman. "Do what?" I answered with a smile. I gently run my fingers on the side of her face and her neck, which made her smiled and purred with pleasure. "Do this?" I whispered, placing my fingers on her lips, taunting her. She grinned and gave them a quick kiss. The rush kicked in. For a moment I wanted nothing than undressed her and have my way with her, to devoured her with my desire. But didn't every other man feel the same? Day in day out, nights after nights, there was always someone new for her. There was always another man coming out of her apartments looking like he just won the jackpot or got thunderstruck or, most of the time, both. She'll have a repeat now and then, I was lucky enough to be her repeat for a while, but not for long. I thought marrying Amerys would save me, but I was wrong.

She got up from the chaise to get some drink on the table. As she stood fiddling with the decanter I could see her silhouette in the thin gown she was wearing, and my mind run wild. I wanted her, but she didn't want me. I could be good, but she didn't want to be good. She wanted to be a whore. She wanted to be a disgusting pig where any man could come and plowed her mercilessly. How despicable. And I had promised her a good respectable life, the life that she should have had with me. How gay our life would be had she accepted it, how full of passion our days would be. Instead I ended up being with that bone-dry Amerys, while she gave herself to lesser men than me. I suffered life with a frigid wife while she lived it up. I had to endure this emptiness because of her rejection, while she filled herself with many men. What a revolting, horrible creature!

That's why she had to go, and the darlings in my left breast pocket would be her demise. She came back with two crystal glasses of wine and handed one to me with a smile. "Wait," I told her and motioned her to sit next to me on the chaise. I smiled my most charming smile and pulled out the tin box from my breast pocket. Her eyes widened as I opened the box to show the little balls inside. "Compressed carbonator, oh beautiful one." In the past I had managed to procure the carbonator from the royal chemist to seduce her, she liked it so much I became her repeat for a while. I had rightly guessed it impressed her still, because she tossed herself at me and gave me a wet, sensual kiss. Her saliva filled my mouth and I suddenly felt half-drunk myself. There's a little bitterness there, almond perhaps? I couldn't care, it was filling my mouth nicely. I had always love her kisses. Always. 

After what seemed like forever she pulled herself from me and laughed heartily. Such pretty peals of laughter. I will miss that. Amerys couldn't laugh prettily to save her life. I dropped one of the little balls in her wine and like a little girl she watched it fizzed. The room felt brighter and shone in vivid colors as she laughed again and drank the wine greedily when the bubbles started to slow down. Yes, drank all you want love. So pretty, so luscious, and soon, so dead. All of the carbonators were tainted. That was a just retribution for what she did to me. Such fitting retribution. After the last gulp she looked uncomfortable. She tried to take deep breaths, but it didn't work. The potion worked by constricting her breath way. She kept gulping for air, yet still looked pretty. It was amusing to see when she finally lost her balance and fell from the chaise, her hair covered her face and her body situated as if she had just had a particularly satisfying intercourse. Why not, I thought to myself. I opened my trousers and had my way with her, over and over again. 

When I finally collapsed to the chaise I looked at her with unsuppressed satisfaction.  She was covered with my fluid, and with bruises and bite marks all over her. I have had her before, so many times; but this time she was all mine, and she will stay that way from now on. Who owns you now, whore? I sighed deeply and smiled. Free, at last. And I got to get the last laugh too. My manhood hurt, but I was too spent to do anything else. Maybe later, if she was still warm. I closed my eyes and soon the ecstasy drifted me to a peaceful sleep. Bye bye little slut, and good riddance. You wronged me and this was what you deserve. So good though, her body was just so good. I would miss that. I really would. 

When I opened my eyes the sun was shining warmly and dyed the sand of the shore golden. It also enhanced the color of the blue sea stretched in front me. Such a beautiful day, such a beautiful place. There was no sound to be heard, and I was all alone. It was good though. I breathed deeply, in and out, enjoying my moment of peace. From a far I could see a speck coming towards the shore, and it wasn't long before I realized it was a man on a small row boat. When the boat reached the shore he stretched a hand to me. "Don't mind if I do," I said genially. As I stood on the boat I felt a couple of gold coins in my trouser pocket. Now where did that come from? I shrugged and thought to myself, "It doesn't matter.". I handed the coins to the boatman and sat comfortably as he rowed us away. All was peaceful, all was good.

________

Epilogue:

She looked at him twitched and convulsed as the fizz in her wine died down. With the last of the fizz, he took the last of his breath too, lying unmoved in her chaise. She stood up and poured all the wine into the basin. There was a loud hiss when the liquid hit the metal. She took a vial from her drawer and rinsed her mouth thoroughly with the liquid from the vial. When she's done, she approached his dead body, carefully closed his eyes and put two gold coins on them. "For the boatman," she said gently, "may your trip be peaceful."

At that moment her door opened with a bang and a gaunt woman stood in the doorway. When she saw the dead man her body became taunt with emotion, and colors rose to her cheek. "My husband, is he..." She looked at her and answered matter-of-factly, "Yes." The gaunt stranger let out a sob. She suddenly flinged herself at the woman, and cried in joy, "You did it my love, you did it!!" They kissed passionately, and the gaunt woman had never looked more beautiful than she was in her unbriddled joy.

She remembered the first day Amerys came to her. She had thought Amerys would be like other wife or bethroted that would cry and threaten and beg for her to leave their men alone. She never understood, because it was their men that could never leave her alone when she really didn't care about them. But Amerys was different. She could see the cold fire in her, and she admired her determination. Her beautiful Amerys, as elegant as Calla Lily yet as deadly as Belladona, she was Amerys' since the first day they met, and Amerys was hers. 

Amerys saw the gold coins and looked at her sadly, "I am sorry you have to do this."

She caressed her straight black hair and kissed her lovingly, "I have to. He has been hurting you for too long and he has killed some of my other lovers. I don't want trouble." 

"You wont get any, I swear by my family's name," Amerys answered, "The poison is untraceable and it looked like a heart attack. He might experienced some hallucinations towards the end, but that is all. Untraceable and you could even say he died happily." 

She nodded. "You are a little devil to think about concocting a poison like that, activated by body heat and transferable by kiss, how did you even think of that?".

Amerys blushed at the obvious compliment, "Poison works best when there is little to no tension in the body, so..." 

She loved the way Amerys blushed, so she kissed her again. "Should I be scared of you?" she whispered seductively. 

Amerys blushed even deeper red, "No, please don't," Amerys stammered, "I wont harm you ever, I promised." 

She smiled and wrapped her arms around her tiny waist, pulling her closer to her. "Should I love you then?" 

Amerys flustered, her mouth opened and closed until she finally whispered, "Yes. Please." 

She smiled triumphantly. "Good," she said and kissed Amerys hard on the mouth, "because I really do love you, Amerys Borgia."

Nuts, Sweets, Festivities: What Dreams are Made Of

We went grocery shopping last night, and our supermarket just stocked some nuts. You know the sorts: hazelnuts, walnuts, peanuts, almonds, etc. What really stoked me was that they also have the nuts in the shells. The nuts in the shells. For the first time in my life I saw what an almond looked like in its shell, and the little round hazelnuts that I so often see depicted in the sachet of my instant coffee in Indonesia, and of course the roundish wrinkled walnuts. I remember looking at them, touching them, and felt like on the verge of crying.

But that was not all. In anticipation for the holiday season, the supermarket's bakery section was chock filled with various goods: pumpkin pies, cherry pies, apple pies, the thin versions, the one piled high with whipped creams, any kind of pies that you can imagine; stacks and stacks of cookies with colorful icing on it; slices of cheese cakes and full carrot cakes and other type of cakes; decorated butter cream cakes with frankestein face and some cute fluffy monsters, all in different colors and styles; packs and packs of cupcakes with delicious icing on top, chocolate white green yellow and all sort of colors; and candies, endless rows of candies. Last night was probably THE best night of my life here in US.

My first banana split

To an [adult] American, I probably looked foolish. Holidays come and go here, and probably only children shared my excitement about the holiday season and the treats to come. I grew with it. From my forever sunny country I grew (and learned my English) with tales of Christmas, of tables laden with delicious meals and pies and small cakes and puddings, of winter stories where everyone huddled for warmth, of the nutcrackers and Christmas candies and how children and squirrel eat their nuts from the shell. All the stories and European folklore I grew up with told about the rich savory meals and the delicious sweets, their adventures were awesome and their stories were powerful, but the depiction of the meals was what seemed so real and so relatable to me. I would probably feels the same when I see a real castle and/or a real royal horse and/or a real princess/prince in the old days costume complete with air of grace and royalty, but for now it was the food, the glorious food.

The real treat is, of course, not the food itself. The real treat is realizing that the thing you can only see as fiction is indeed verily real. I had a candy cane before in Indonesia, as well as Christmas tree and even a full set of Santa's cabin in the "snow" with "snow" falling on it. I remember being so happy and ecstatic, yet it didn't feel right. There was something amiss there. The snow, the candy, the little deer ornaments on the Christmas tree, these were all fascinating, but they don't belong there. They don't belong in the tropical paradise, they belong to four seasons countries. And I thought I would live all my life without tasting what fresh blueberries taste like (they're delicious!) and what a joy freshly baked banana bread would be (my husband made the best ever!). But they're real. Everything that I have read, all the things that filled my childhood with wonder and amazement, all the emotion stirred in the stories and how I imagined them to be, they are real. Just as the cold weather told in Fall and winter stories, they are too, frighteningly real.  

My husband once asked me, what impresses me the most about US. I said it was the tap water, that we can actually drink right from the tap. Last night he jokingly said he couldn't fathom that after all the things he showed to impress me in US, I was instead ecstatic about tap water and nuts. I felt kind of bad, but to me that is what dreams are made of. People so often took for granted things in their daily life, things that they are so accustomed to. But to others, to people who do not lived the way they do or even think the way they do, those things might be an exciting experience to itself. I remember my husband smile as he waited patiently for me to checked the cookies and cakes display in the supermarket's bakery, and how he offered me to buy a bag of mixed nuts and the nutcracker. I declined though, thinking the nutcracker is a monstrous hammer-like thing the size of a nutcracker soldier doll; how surprised I was when he showed me the nutcracker was only the size of letter L keys, and I laughed and laughed like crazy there. I am glad he had the patience and open-mind to be joyful and excited with my new "discoveries", instead of being angry and confuse and say "It's just some walnuts, get over it!".

Every night it grew colder here, and the mornings seemed to come really late. I snuggled happily in my bed with my husband next to me, and the thought of having his homemade warm hot pancakes with syrup for breakfast makes me all happy and joyful. This is just like the story book. This is what dreams are made of.