Indigo late for her lunch date with the Devil. The card he had left her said 12:30, and it was very distinctly 12:45.
When she reached the restaurant she wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Sorry Ma'am. Did you have a reservation?" The little man had a pencil mustache and a grating accent.
Don't call me Ma'am, she thought. On an impulse she said "Yes, reservation for Lucifer."
The little man looked at his little book and then back to Indigo. "Yes, your friend is waiting for you."
"Has he been here long?"
The little man's eyebrows rose half-way up his forehead. "Yes, SHE has been here for about fifteen minutes." He scrunched his nose at her in disdain. "Your table is this way. Please follow me."
Indigo couldn't help but stick out her tongue at the man's back.
She? Indigo wondered. What's going on? Why did Lucifer send someone else?
The little man seated Indigo at a table in front of a big bay window that over looked the park. And already seated at that table was an immensely beautiful woman with long chestnut hair. And black eyes.
Numbly Indigo sat down, scraping the chair legs on the floor as she scooched up to the table. "Lucifer?" she almost whispered. "Are you Lucifer?"
In response the woman gave Indigo the wicked toothy smile that had already become familiar.
"You're a woman?"
Lucifer laughed, a musical honey-toned laugh. "No, I don't have gender actually. You see," she said leaning in, "I wear my physical body the way you wear clothes. Only I don't buy it at Sax Fifth Avenue." She winked and leaned back in her chair.
Indigo considered, "So if you don't actually have gender... do you have sex?"
"Is that an offer?" Lucifer tilted her head seductively, smiling still.
Indigo jerked back, alarmed. "No! Ah," she paused not able to grab the right words from the air, "No."
Lucifer pouted prettily. "Well, that's too bad. But yes, I do have sex. I enjoy sex."
At this moment the waiter appeared to take their order. Either he had a speech impediment or Lucifer's beauty was melting his little brain, but he eventually managed to write everything down and stumble away.
"So when you have sex, do you have sex as a man, or as a woman?" Indigo leaned forward, curious.
"Mmmm..." Lucifer tapped her lips with her index finger. The nail was a dark glossy red, the color of blood. "The depends. As you might guess, I like power." She leaned back in her chair, resting one elbow and staring vaguely out the window. "When I am with a woman, I prefer to be a man. However with men-"
"Wait," interrupted Indigo, "you're bisexual?"
Lucifer rolled her eyes, and glanced at the ceiling before fixing Indigo with a dead stare. "Didn't we just go over this? I do not have gender. If I do not have gender how can I have sexual orientation?" She paused, waiting. When Indigo shrugged in confusion, Lucifer continued. "With men, again, I generally prefer to be a man. The exception to that is when I play dominance and submission games, then I am always a woman."
"You're a bisexual dominatrix?" Indigo had a smirk on her face. "The Devil is a bisexual dominatrix." She couldn't help it, she let out a burst of raucous laughter that caused several other patrons to turn and glare.
Rolling her eyes again, Lucifer said "Clearly your limited intellect cannot conceive of lack of gender. But yes," she continued, now with a smug smile, "I have been a dominatrix. I was a professional dominatrix for several years."
Indigo's mirth had subsided, "Why? You don't have a use for money, do you?"
Lucifer shrugged daintily. "No, I was just bored. Nothing new under the sun. It all gets old pretty quick."
"So, why are you a man with men."
"Ah," Lucifer, "because men are better at fellatio."
Indigo's eyes widened. Then she sat back in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could erase what she'd just heard. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."
Lucifer laughed her musical laugh again. "You're surprised?" She chuckled then, a low silky rumble. "You're alluringly innocent when you blush like that."
Indigo still hadn't opened her eyes. "Men... give better blow jobs."
"Yes," responded Lucifer with mirth in her voice, "and also, our lunch has arrived."
Indigo opened her eyes to see the stammering waiter from before, standing at their table, gulping manically like a fish out of water. Indigo's blush deepened. At the moment, if Lucifer had not taken the plates from the young man's quivering hands, the food would have fallen to the floor.
"Thank you," smiled Lucifer sweetly, "that'll be all for now." And the waiter practically ran away.
"Why?" Indigo seemed to be unaware of her food.
Lucifer began twirling her pasta with a spoon and fork, preparing the perfect bite. "Why are men better at fellatio?"
Indigo nodded.
"Because," Lucifer began, "they are more familiar with the equipment." She brought the fork of pasta to her mouth and she suggestively took a bite. After chewing thoughtfully for a moment, she continued, "It's like owning a car versus occasionally renting a car. Sure, you can learn how to drive just renting a car, maybe even get fairly proficient. But," she leaned in dropping her voice slightly, "you don't have as much experience as the person who drives their car every day, who takes it off-roading occasionally, and who can tune his own engine. Women," she said leaning back to prepare another bite, "never even get under the hood." She took her bite and, again chewing thoughtfully, said, "Women, by the same token, are much better at cunnilingus." She rolled her eyes. "Most men are dreadful."
Indigo cleared her throat, but thought better of it, and began intently eating her pasta. "I've been meaning to ask you," said Indigo, "why did you ask me to lunch?" She fixed Lucifer with a forceful look, "Last night you claimed you weren't after my soul."
Lucifer shrugged and kept working at her food. "Like I said, boredom. Solomon was right you know, not a thing new under the sun. All of it just variations on old themes. But not to you," Lucifer looked up, her face serious now, "it's all new to you."
"You want to vicariously experience the world through me?"
Lucifer shrugged. "That's one way to think about it. You can be shocked, beguiled, excited, frightened, and delighted. Mostly, you just amuse me."
"So I'm your new play thing, is that it? And if I don't want to play?"
Lucifer grinned, that wicked toothy grin. "I can make your life a living Hell." She winked.
"Yes, but for now, you're just buying me lunch." Said Indigo, seemly unruffled.
"Yes," said Lucifer, wine glass in hand, slumped in her chair, "for now."
"Well," said Indigo, raising her own wine glass, "cheers to that." And they clinked glasses.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
#1: Men, Angels, and Introductions
"Go fuck yourself."
And she sloshed her fifteen dollar cocktail in his face. She set the glass down gingerly on the bar, apologized sweetly to the handsome bartender, and stood up to leave.
Meanwhile, the man, who only moments before had been whispering extravagant obscenities into her ear, stared in shock as he dripped cranberry juice and vodka from his chin. Only, when she was snuggling her purse strap up over her shoulder as she walked away, did he react.
"Indigo! Indigo get back here!"
Indigo walked straight out the door.
He caught up with her on the sidewalk, and stood to block her path.
"Look Steve..." she said, crossing her arms and bending one knee to tap the toe of her patent leather pumps.
"Edgar!"
"Whatever. I'm not interested. Not interested in you, your trite sexual fantasies, or the appalling idea of spending a night in bed with you. I've tried to get along because we're both regulars, but you are incapable of recognizing a woman's polite disinterest. I'm done being polite. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
She moved to walk around him, but he forcefully grabbed her arm, just above the elbow.
"Let go." She said it in a low, heavy voice.
Indigo wasn't a big girl. Not short, not tall, but average. What wasn't average was her curvy figure and her pretty face. Long wavy red hair, green eyes, and a few freckles which she hated, but which every one of her exes got nostalgic about. She was athletic and fairly strong, but she didn't really want to find out how she compared to Steve, er, Edgar.
Edgar's grip tightened on her arm.
"That's no way to treat a lady."
Edgar and Indigo turned to see a man standing on the curb. He wore a dark, three-piece, pinstripe suit and a fedora, tipped rakishly so that it shadowed most of his face.
Edgar released Indigo, who began to gently massage her arm with her right hand. Edgar approached the other man.
"I'm sorry, but you're interrupting," began Edgar,"perhaps you had better give us some privacy."
"Privacy? You'd certainly like that wouldn't you," the stranger grinned wickedly, his white teeth visible even in the shadows. "Dirty mind," he tapped his own temple with his index finger and winked at Edgar. "No, I think perhaps it would be best if you excused yourself, and I shall see that Indigo gets home safely."
Indigo's eyes narrowed. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought. Then confusion. He knows my name... how?
"Forgive me for not introducing myself," said the stranger, approaching Indigo with a spark in his eye. "My name is Lucifer." He extended is right hand.
Indigo stopped massaging her arm and hesitated, then reached out to shake Lucifer's hand. His hand was warm, hot almost.
Lucifer smiled. "Charmed," he said, and then he raised her had to his face, and leisurely kissed the back of her hand. If his hand was warm, his mouth was burning.
Edgar, who was turning a little red himself and who, honestly, was feeling a little left out, broke the moment, "I believe I asked you to leave!"
Lucifer, without releasing Indigo's hand or looking away from her face replied "No, I believe it was I who asked you to leave." And with that Edgar vanished.
Indigo's mouth fell open as she stared at the spot on which Edgar was no longer standing. She blinked rapidly for a few moments. Momentarily she became aware of Lucifer again, and she turned her head to face him.
His eyes never left her. They were black, his eyes. His cheek bones were prominent and his mouth was full. Chestnut hair, tall. He was beautiful.
Indigo's teeth clicked together and she violently snapped her hand away. "Who and what are you?" she demanded as she began taking slow, cautious steps backwards.
Lucifer seemed unconcerned. "I already told you."
"You expect me to believe that you are actually the Devil himself, the Prince of Darkness, the Great Deceiver?" She continued slowly backing away. "Where's Edgar?"
"Oh him? He's back in the bar, with a bit of a headache and some slight memory loss."
"Really." Skepticism dripped copiously from her voice, like the vodka from Edgar's chin earlier.
"Yes. Go check. I'll be waiting."
She took another few steps backward, then turned and walked into the bar. Back inside, Edgar was seated on a bar stool, mopping up his shirt with paper napkins.
"Back already? One drink wasn't enough?" He continued blotting his shirt. "Do you know if Cranberry juice stains?"
"What just happened outside?" Indigo demanded.
"I don't know. What just happened outside?" He said it like he was humoring a four-year-old.
"Don't play games with me Edgar, you were there!"
"Hey, you got my name right for once!" He actually seemed pleased.
She rolled her eyes and then set her fists on her hips. "Are you telling me you don't remember following me outside and arguing and getting interrupted by a man in a three-piece suit who called himself Lucifer?"
Simply put, Edgar thought she was "a complete raving lunatic" and that she should "go the fuck away!"
Indigo sighed in frustration, then she looked at the bartender "Jay, could you let me out the back?"
He was drying a pint glass with a clean white rag. "Sure, no problem." He led her out back through the kitchen. Just before he closed the door he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Be safe okay?"
"Will do," she said.
He closed the door and she heard the bolt slide into place. Time to get home. She took three steps before she heard Lucifer's voice.
"Do you believe me now?" He walked towards her from her left.
She she let out a burst of a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Okay. Sure," she said, "You're the Devil. What do you want?" She squinted at him suspiciously. "I'm not selling you my soul."
Lucifer laughed. It was a full, musical, belly laugh. It was enchanting. And somehow it set Indigo at ease.
"No, I'm not after your soul. Well, not right now, anyway." He came close and turned to offer her his elbow. "I don't want to discuss business tonight. Just let me walk you home."
Indigo tipped her head back and tried to look down her nose at him. He was a bit too tall for her to do that without looking drunk. "It's a long walk to my apartment. And it's generally a bad idea to let strange men walk me home."
Lucifer smiled, "But I am not a man."
"Then what are you?"
He reached up and delicately pulled her hair back with his hand, leaning in to bring his mouth very close to her ear. Indigo closed her eyes, her defenses neutralized. She could feel the heat of his lips on her skin even though they never touched her.
"I," he whispered, "am an angel."
After a moment that took too long, but was over too soon, he pulled away and Indigo opened her eyes to find herself, standing alone, in her living room. She looked around the room, bewildered, for several minutes, until it came to her attention that she was holding a piece of paper in her fingertips.
It was a business card. For a restaurant. A small Italian place about fifteen minutes from her apartment. She'd been there once, very good pasta. Cute wait staff too. Anyway, on the back of the card, handwritten, was the message: "Lunch tomorrow. 12:30."
Indigo squinted at the card for bit, glared at it even. Flipped it over a few times. Then she set it down on her coffee table. Walking towards the bathroom, she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand and yawned. "Great. Date with the Devil. Woo woo."
And she sloshed her fifteen dollar cocktail in his face. She set the glass down gingerly on the bar, apologized sweetly to the handsome bartender, and stood up to leave.
Meanwhile, the man, who only moments before had been whispering extravagant obscenities into her ear, stared in shock as he dripped cranberry juice and vodka from his chin. Only, when she was snuggling her purse strap up over her shoulder as she walked away, did he react.
"Indigo! Indigo get back here!"
Indigo walked straight out the door.
He caught up with her on the sidewalk, and stood to block her path.
"Look Steve..." she said, crossing her arms and bending one knee to tap the toe of her patent leather pumps.
"Edgar!"
"Whatever. I'm not interested. Not interested in you, your trite sexual fantasies, or the appalling idea of spending a night in bed with you. I've tried to get along because we're both regulars, but you are incapable of recognizing a woman's polite disinterest. I'm done being polite. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
She moved to walk around him, but he forcefully grabbed her arm, just above the elbow.
"Let go." She said it in a low, heavy voice.
Indigo wasn't a big girl. Not short, not tall, but average. What wasn't average was her curvy figure and her pretty face. Long wavy red hair, green eyes, and a few freckles which she hated, but which every one of her exes got nostalgic about. She was athletic and fairly strong, but she didn't really want to find out how she compared to Steve, er, Edgar.
Edgar's grip tightened on her arm.
"That's no way to treat a lady."
Edgar and Indigo turned to see a man standing on the curb. He wore a dark, three-piece, pinstripe suit and a fedora, tipped rakishly so that it shadowed most of his face.
Edgar released Indigo, who began to gently massage her arm with her right hand. Edgar approached the other man.
"I'm sorry, but you're interrupting," began Edgar,"perhaps you had better give us some privacy."
"Privacy? You'd certainly like that wouldn't you," the stranger grinned wickedly, his white teeth visible even in the shadows. "Dirty mind," he tapped his own temple with his index finger and winked at Edgar. "No, I think perhaps it would be best if you excused yourself, and I shall see that Indigo gets home safely."
Indigo's eyes narrowed. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought. Then confusion. He knows my name... how?
"Forgive me for not introducing myself," said the stranger, approaching Indigo with a spark in his eye. "My name is Lucifer." He extended is right hand.
Indigo stopped massaging her arm and hesitated, then reached out to shake Lucifer's hand. His hand was warm, hot almost.
Lucifer smiled. "Charmed," he said, and then he raised her had to his face, and leisurely kissed the back of her hand. If his hand was warm, his mouth was burning.
Edgar, who was turning a little red himself and who, honestly, was feeling a little left out, broke the moment, "I believe I asked you to leave!"
Lucifer, without releasing Indigo's hand or looking away from her face replied "No, I believe it was I who asked you to leave." And with that Edgar vanished.
Indigo's mouth fell open as she stared at the spot on which Edgar was no longer standing. She blinked rapidly for a few moments. Momentarily she became aware of Lucifer again, and she turned her head to face him.
His eyes never left her. They were black, his eyes. His cheek bones were prominent and his mouth was full. Chestnut hair, tall. He was beautiful.
Indigo's teeth clicked together and she violently snapped her hand away. "Who and what are you?" she demanded as she began taking slow, cautious steps backwards.
Lucifer seemed unconcerned. "I already told you."
"You expect me to believe that you are actually the Devil himself, the Prince of Darkness, the Great Deceiver?" She continued slowly backing away. "Where's Edgar?"
"Oh him? He's back in the bar, with a bit of a headache and some slight memory loss."
"Really." Skepticism dripped copiously from her voice, like the vodka from Edgar's chin earlier.
"Yes. Go check. I'll be waiting."
She took another few steps backward, then turned and walked into the bar. Back inside, Edgar was seated on a bar stool, mopping up his shirt with paper napkins.
"Back already? One drink wasn't enough?" He continued blotting his shirt. "Do you know if Cranberry juice stains?"
"What just happened outside?" Indigo demanded.
"I don't know. What just happened outside?" He said it like he was humoring a four-year-old.
"Don't play games with me Edgar, you were there!"
"Hey, you got my name right for once!" He actually seemed pleased.
She rolled her eyes and then set her fists on her hips. "Are you telling me you don't remember following me outside and arguing and getting interrupted by a man in a three-piece suit who called himself Lucifer?"
Simply put, Edgar thought she was "a complete raving lunatic" and that she should "go the fuck away!"
Indigo sighed in frustration, then she looked at the bartender "Jay, could you let me out the back?"
He was drying a pint glass with a clean white rag. "Sure, no problem." He led her out back through the kitchen. Just before he closed the door he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Be safe okay?"
"Will do," she said.
He closed the door and she heard the bolt slide into place. Time to get home. She took three steps before she heard Lucifer's voice.
"Do you believe me now?" He walked towards her from her left.
She she let out a burst of a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Okay. Sure," she said, "You're the Devil. What do you want?" She squinted at him suspiciously. "I'm not selling you my soul."
Lucifer laughed. It was a full, musical, belly laugh. It was enchanting. And somehow it set Indigo at ease.
"No, I'm not after your soul. Well, not right now, anyway." He came close and turned to offer her his elbow. "I don't want to discuss business tonight. Just let me walk you home."
Indigo tipped her head back and tried to look down her nose at him. He was a bit too tall for her to do that without looking drunk. "It's a long walk to my apartment. And it's generally a bad idea to let strange men walk me home."
Lucifer smiled, "But I am not a man."
"Then what are you?"
He reached up and delicately pulled her hair back with his hand, leaning in to bring his mouth very close to her ear. Indigo closed her eyes, her defenses neutralized. She could feel the heat of his lips on her skin even though they never touched her.
"I," he whispered, "am an angel."
After a moment that took too long, but was over too soon, he pulled away and Indigo opened her eyes to find herself, standing alone, in her living room. She looked around the room, bewildered, for several minutes, until it came to her attention that she was holding a piece of paper in her fingertips.
It was a business card. For a restaurant. A small Italian place about fifteen minutes from her apartment. She'd been there once, very good pasta. Cute wait staff too. Anyway, on the back of the card, handwritten, was the message: "Lunch tomorrow. 12:30."
Indigo squinted at the card for bit, glared at it even. Flipped it over a few times. Then she set it down on her coffee table. Walking towards the bathroom, she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand and yawned. "Great. Date with the Devil. Woo woo."
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