Illumination

Filled with anxiety, I visited the place again. For the third day in a row, I was checking whether the woman I had recently seen had returned to my favorite bar. I began to look around. I sat at a table located on a slightly elevated platform, close to the bar. No one bothers me here. I can calmly observe the guests who have arrived today.

I like this place. The decor of the venue is styled after an Irish pub. The walls are covered with dark brown wooden paneling. The wall sconces cast an orange light, but there is a moody semi-darkness. The bar is usually attended by a lovely waitress—one is blonde, the other a brunette. The collection of expensive liquor bottles sparkling in the orange light is impressive. Atmospheric music is always playing here. Very often, Patti Smith sings softly.

The bar is located in a historic townhouse, situated near my apartment. I often spend evenings here. I drop by because I like to observe worried or cheerful people, caught up in their mysterious life dilemmas. My favorite pub is never empty. On the contrary, it enjoys great popularity, especially on Friday and Saturday evenings.

Suddenly, the woman I was looking out for appeared at the bar. Her figure, for some reason, had etched itself into my memory. For three days now, I had repeatedly imagined her face and silhouette. Her gestures fascinated me. If I had to use impolite terms borrowed from erotic films, she would be described as a MILF.

As you know, "MILF" is a term that long ago moved from the dark circles of dubious literature and erotic films into mainstream vocabulary. However, let me remind you that it is an acronym for "Mother I'd Like to ****". I like being in the company of women who can be described by this term. What do I mean by this? Well, I like such company because I no longer feel constrained by my age. At the same time, women like that emanate sensuality. They should not be confused with other women, also in their forties or fifties, who, through their appearance and behavior, indicate that they no longer want anything to do with intimacy. A woman like her, on the contrary, signals, in ways known only to her, that—put simply—she is in a state of psychological arousal... she is interested in the world.

The woman I'm looking at now was previously talking with a friend of hers, of the same age and presumably in the same state of mind. Sitting here at this table, you can overhear snippets of conversations conducted by people seated at the bar. That's how I already know that the person who has so intrigued me is named Natalie. Her friend, on the other hand, is named Caroline.

Looking at Natalie, I have an increasing desire to meet her. I don't know where this comes from. It probably results from signals emitted by her body.

This beautiful woman is wearing a short, shimmering silver dress today. It's probably an outfit chosen for some party or other official and elegant event.

So, the Natalie I had longed to see is fidgeting today on a stool at the bar. I look at her exposed legs. I see the line, the indentation between the thigh muscles. Above, the dress covers her hips. Oh! If I could see her naked, I would be happy.

I see her slowly sipping a drink. She smooths her hairstyle with her hand. Strands of her hair shine. Sometimes she turns her gaze in my direction. Today she is alone. I don't see her friend.

Under the influence of some sudden impulse, I jump up from my seat at the table and sit next to the woman who so occupies my mind. Sitting on the adjacent stool, I politely ask:

"May I sit here?"

"Why not, please... I've noticed for a while that you've been staring at me persistently. Do you want to talk to me?"

"That's indeed the case. I'd like to get to know you. The day before yesterday, sitting nearby—there, at that table—I managed to overhear your conversation with your friend. So I already know that you're writing some texts, which absorbs and excites you a lot."

The mysterious woman smiled at me kindly. From her eyes, one could read that she possessed boundless energy. Leaning towards her, I sensed the scent of enchanting perfume.

"Is it nice to eavesdrop like that? Just kidding! After all, I realize that people come to a bar to meet someone. And besides, you're right... I'm a writer; I make a living from it."

"Oh, really? The day before yesterday, you were telling your friend about various difficulties, dilemmas, and quandaries regarding your latest work."

"Why does that interest you so much?"

"I also write... I know that sometimes inspiration doesn't cooperate!"

"You write something? That's nice. I like fellows from the same field. I propose we switch to first names. I'm Natalie! And you?"

"Mark... at your service... um... I don't know if I'm a professional. I think I write only to stir emotions."

"Stir emotions? Yours or the readers'?" Natalie asked.

"I think you'll agree that you first have to stir your own emotions to captivate the readers," I replied.

"I'm not always interested in providing fun. Sometimes I want to draw some blood," Natalie stated.

"Ha... you're probably quoting a line spoken by a character in Charles Bukowski's novel "Women"," I said.

"That's right, I know that novel inside out. By the way, I once insisted on understanding why young women are so eager to get into bed with a man who is a musician, singer, or, well, an author of a famous novel on tour."

"So, did you understand those young women?"

"Not entirely. Nevertheless, the motives of human actions occurring under the influence of desire—the influences of Eros—are the most interesting topic that exists."

"I didn't know I was dealing with a writer specialized in erotica. Oh, perhaps you're interested not only in writing about eroticism but also in gaining better insight in this area—that is, actions in real life."

"In real life? What do you mean by that?" Natalie asked.

"I'll answer honestly... that is, I'll tell you what's on my mind," I replied.

"Go ahead! You've piqued my interest!"

"There is such a possibility! Discussing it results from the assumption that your state of mind is as I have deduced from observing your movements, gestures, facial expressions. Since I've established that you're bold, full of energy, seeking new experiences, and in great psychological condition, I'll ask directly whether you're interested in exchanging a particular kind of cognitive erotic services."

"Cognitive erotic services... what's that?" Natalie inquired.

"I would ask you to participate with me in a certain erotic adventure, in exchange for which you could ask me for the same—that is, you would also assign me a task."

"Alright, I agree in advance! I'm in! What do you expect?"

"I would like to realize with you a wild fantasy that has long been in my mind."

"A wild fantasy? Go on!"

"I want you to come with me, one evening, to meet a girl who sells herself for money and to participate in such a session!"

"And what does my participation involve?"

"That would depend on the degree of your involvement in the event. If you're bisexual, which I don't know now, you could also make love with that girl. If you're unashamed and relaxed, during the visit to that girl, you could also have intimacy with me. However, I don't require you to decide on your possible actions right now. One thing is necessary, though—you would have the obligation to watch!"

"I see... wait a moment... let me think..."

I leaned back, moved away a bit, and looked at the pensive but still beautiful woman. After a longer moment, Natalie touched my knee and said firmly:

"Agreed, the deal stands. I'll call you in the next few days... one evening. We'll go where you lead me."