Due to work trips, girls’ and boys’ nights out and other occasions, it had been several weeks since she and her husband had had the night just for themselves. Like an old friend that she hadn’t seen in a while, she welcomed the pleasant tingling that was building up inside of her as she slid into a new lingerie outfit that she had found from one of those small and somewhat exciting stores scattered along the back alleys of the town. Her husband still was the one to turn on her inner fire the best. “This should do the trick…” she thought to herself as she was playing with the suspenders of her new garter belt. As soon as she heard the front door open, she positioned herself on the floor in front of the leather couch and looked towards the door. “Damn, what an exhausting day…” her husband started as he was walking in. “Shh… Let me help you relax. Set me on fire and burn with me”, she whispered with a grin and knelt down in front of her man.
At nightfall, a dark figure can seen be wandering down one of the narrow streets in the heart of the entertainment district of an unknown city. As we zoom in closer, we can see that that the figure belongs to a male. The commercial signs and shop windows blend in together behind him as we follow him further, anxious to know where his feet would lead him. And then he stops. The background stops. The world around us, and him, stops. “Who are you?” the man asks bluntly as he stops in front of a, dare we say, daringly dressed, female. “Me? Does it matter?” The man looks down. And then back up again. The woman wraps herself around a lamp-post like the serpent of in the Garden of Eden. “I suppose it doesn’t. I should know what to call you, though.” The woman giggles and bites her bottom lip. A small particle of red lipstick gets stuck on her left front teeth. “You can call me your mother or your daughter or your lover. I can be your goddess or your demon. We can be friends; we can be enemies. I can even be your…” the woman lists and stops abruptly when she sees another dark figure in one of the windows by the street.
She had always had a way with words. The way she was able to make them twist in the air and circle their target before wrapping tight around them was all but unheard of. And that is what the poor man was forced to experience that night. It had been several hours of mental teasing that neared the border of torture. She didn’t shy away from humiliating the man, mainly with her words, nor did she give a second thought on the impact she, and her words, would have on the man. Even if she knew it to be a dusty cliché, she boldly announced: “I’m the one wearing the trousers now.” The man whimpered and pled for mercy. He didn’t even ask her to let him go. All he wanted was her to give him the desired release that he had followed into that dark room earlier that night. And for her to stop talking. “Don’t tell me to stop.” The woman stared at the man kneeling in front of her. A dry chuckle escaped her lips when she took a few steps forwards and lowered her cane right in front of the man. “Don’t ever tell me to stop.”
It had been a long night of constant battling. Like two lions trapped in the same cage, they kept winning and losing, one after the other. For every score one made, the other had to remove an article of clothing, until there was nothing left to remove. The moon was already up when she climbed onto the pool table that served as their battleground. The pale rays of light danced on her skin as she prepared to remove her second to last piece. “Sorry, I have to ask”, the man said, holding tightly onto his stick, and continued: “What does the ‘V’ in your lingerie stand for?” “V is for victory”, she replied, tossed her bra onto the floor and kicked the last ball into one of the pockets, forcing the man to remove his boxers.
She had been wandering around the town for the weekend, making new one-night friends and staying over at their places, or partying all night long until the last drink of the night turned into a bitter breakfast. Since she didn’t want to pay the weekend extra of the plane tickets, her flight back to her hometown wasn’t until early Tuesday morning. That Monday evening as she was walking around the town, she saw it in a completely new light that was not filtered through the neon lights and the blurriness caused by cocktails. Since she had been too busy painting the town all shades of red, she had failed to notice that there was some kind of a high-end conference happening that week, which meant that all of the hotels were fully booked. As she was cursing her bad luck on the street, a black car with tinted windows stopped next to her. When one of the dark windows rolled down, she thought to herself that she might be making another new friend with whom to stay that night.
The poor man must had taken a few wrong turns in the darkness of the night because he was now standing under a sign that said “Korova”, a word that bore no meaning to him. He had been on his way home from work when his car had suddenly refused to move after stopping at a red light. Out of cell phone battery, he had no choice but to go look for the nearest gas station. Since he was not familiar with the particular part of the town (he only drove through it daily… or more like sped through it), he got lost quickly. When he saw an establishment with some lights on, he hurried the narrow back alley to the door and found it unlocked. “Hello!” a female voice exclaimed with a thick accent as soon as the man stepped inside. “Welcome to Korova, the milk bar. What kind of a moloko would you want tonight?” she continued, hopping onto the bar with not much on. The man could hardly understand what the woman was saying so after he managed to take his eyes off the woman, he concentrated on examining the menu on the wall. But the words looked like gibberish to him. “Umm… I was wondering if I could use the phone”, the man mumbled, feeling like he had walked through some sort of a portal and entered a version of reality where everything was slightly off. “Don’t worry. We take care of you, my friend”, the lady said as she approached the man and walked him into the back room.
“Bow down to me”, she commanded at the entrance of the dark basement that now had the privilege to serve as some type of a dungeon. “I’ll let you idolize me and worship me. I’ll feed your obsession but you have to give me something in return”, she continued with a flat but demanding tone in her voice. Her long nails skated up along her thighs, over her leather garters, and onto her belly, as she inspected her newest prey, head slightly tilted, eyes wide open like a praying mantis ready to attack the little grasshopper. “Relax. This is just a game. This is what you asked for. This is what you came here for”, she reassured the little grasshopper with her big green eyes gleaming in the dim room as she walked to the door and closed it. The click of the lock echoed in the basement, gradually disappearing into the all-engulfing silence.
The flickering neon signs were like the Northern star – guiding the casual lost wanderers after sunset, showing them the way to the nearest establishment with overpriced refreshments and subtle scams. It was an exceptionally dark and wet night when a man who could barely stay up on his feet stumbled onto the back alleys of the not-so-good part of the town. Completely unaware of his whereabouts, he sat on the bench of a seemingly abandoned bus stop (let’s be honest, what bus would have stopped here after the late ‘00s recession…) and squinted as he tried to make out the blurry signs buzzing in the night. Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, he didn’t have to squint for long before a cheerful girl tiptoed from a colourful yet ran-down building across the street. “Hello there, sir. How’s your evening?” she asked in a cheerful voice while playing with her hair. “Err… Good, good… Yours?” the man managed to mumble in response. “Excellent! I was just wondering if you’d like to come inside and play with me”, the girl chirped and nodded towards the building she had hopped out of a few moments ago. “It’s awfully chilly out here and you look like you could use a drink and some mental stimulation.” The man could barely sound some sort of an approbative response when the girl was already dragging him from his arm towards the establishment that announced proudly on its dirty window of having stood there since the mid-‘80s. “Don’t be nervous! I promise you a fun night. And you can even stay the night in one of our private rooms. It only costs five hundred dollars per night!” the girl assured as they disappeared inside the gritty Wonderland-gone-bad-esque building.
It had been a gloomy Sunday with the dark clouds hanging low over the closed bars and shops, yet, somehow, she had managed to stay positive. “At least it’s a warm, gloomy day”, she thought to herself as she walked towards the local beach. It wasn’t fully summer yet but there was a subtle promise of the warm embrace of July heatwaves in the air. As she kicked off her shoes and stepped into the chilling water, the clouds began to shift and move to the side like a slow-motion curtain that reveals the star of the show, the sun. “I knew that the sun would eventually come out”, she smiled as she walked a bit further into the beach water, her toes numb of the cold and her mind warm, summery and sunny.
“Hey, girl! Bring my ladies some fancy cocktails”, a male voice hollered from the dark corner of the club. “I’m sure it’s someone’s birthday so put some fancy umbrellas and shit in them”, he continued. She giggled and started to fix some tropical drinks. Following no recipe, she added a splash of this and a little bit of that, making sure that the ladies wouldn’t see straight by the end of the evening. She locked her eyes with the male customer as she grabbed the ice-cold shaker and started to mix the drinks, making her breasts bounce in her tiny denim uniform. After the cocktails were done, she placed them on a metal tray and tiptoed over to the man’s table. “Here are your ladies’ drinks, sir”, she announced, placed the tray onto the table and then kicked off her pumps. “Thank you, doll”, the man replied but his last word was cut short when the waitress climbed over to the table and started to sway her hips in slow circles. The man’s lady friends grabbed their fancy cocktails with a sour look on their faces as the waitress stole the man’s undivided attention. “Oh, it’s that kind of a bar!” one of the ladies quacked. “It sure is…” the man mumbled in response and leaned forward, eating the waitress with his eyes.