3 comments/ 7987 views/ 4 favorites Playing Your Part Ch. 01 By: ZardozSays When she looked up from her book, there he was. Sitting directly in front of her. Her look was one of puzzlement and confusion. She had no experience with strangers brazenly approaching her in public like this. He smiled, said hello, and asked her name. She told him her name was Helene almost as a reflex while she tried to size him up. She showed her nervousness about his appearing out of nowhere. Her guard was up but he knew she was too polite to simply tell him to get lost. He had the initiative and he meant to use it. "You know, I like to people watch." he said. "I am sometimes fascinated by the people I see. I must confess that I have watched you in here on a few occasions and became quite interested in you. That is why I wanted to meet you. Have you ever noticed that you can really see a great deal about a person's character just by observing them in a public setting?" Helene was trying to process what was happening here and what to do. She was asked a direct question. Part of her thought this required an answer but the whole event was foreign enough to make her want to start with some questions of her own - to back things up a little. Who was this guy and why was he bothering her? Also, there was something about the look on this guy's face. He was so calm and relaxed. His manner was so matter of fact. It was as if he was merely continuing an ongoing conversation instead of starting this peculiar cold call. "I suppose everyone makes assumptions about people they see." she said. Before Helene could start asking any of the questions piling up in her head, he continued leading the conversation. "I want to tell you a little bit about myself and explain why I am so interested in you if you will simply listen for a few minutes. I promise it will be brief and all I ask is you listen without interruption." He scarcely waited for a response before he continued. "First of all, my main interest in people watching is usually occupational. I am a writer by trade and I am always trying to hone my skills in sizing people up and understanding how they will respond to various situations. I work very hard to get an insight into their interests, their motivations, and their desires." She felt like this was a new kind of come-on. It seemed like an elaborate sales pitch to her but she was listening to it nonetheless. She was curious to know how this ploy would develop. "I had been working on something in particular for a new story." he continued. "I was trying to write a new character in a story but I had been seriously stuck. The problem was that I didn't feel like I could really penetrate the emotional range and response of the character in the way I normally require. While I was struggling with this problem, it just so happened that I began to notice you and start watching you. You became important to my story." He could tell the delivery of this line created the intended air of anticipation - albeit mixed with mild anxiety. He was committed now and there was no turning back. "I will explain in a very general and simplified sense what the connection is. The character I am interested in is a woman who is in a fundamental sense of good character. She is kind, sensitive, responsible, thoughtful , genuine - in a way she represents to me many of the idealized feminine character traits that are so often lacking in men. That is to say, she is more more thoughtful, more sensitive than most." He paused briefly and observed her face to gauge her reaction. "She is someone who has an appreciation for the arts, is an avid reader, and craves new experiences and intellectual stimulus. Lastly, she is a bit sheltered in her experience. She has always been a good girl and a bit cautious by nature. Because of this - for the purposes of my story - she has a certain void in her life that she is perhaps only dimly aware of. She doesn't realize that there are parts of her nature that have long been held in reserve. A nature that is primitive and powerful that would surprise her by virtue of its intensity and the reckless abandon it might promote." "In my story, this woman meets a man who understands this part of her character, and who views the role of revealing these latent desires as the most erotic and exciting thing that can occur between a man and a woman. It is a story about desire more than anything." "As I mentioned I have been watching you. Almost everyday you come in here and I have been carefully studying you. The more I studied you, the more I wrote with you in mind. The more I wrote with you in mind, the more convinced I became that you are just like the character I have created. I think I believe this so strongly because watching you helped so much to make real progress on my story. I initially thought about just giving you the story out of the blue to read with no real explanation and walk away. I imagined what would happen if you recognized yourself in the main character. And so it began. But my imagination didn't stop there. I became fascinated and obsessed by the idea of living out the fiction I created in reality - to have my story become non-fiction you might say. What I propose is that you and I should become these characters in real life for a time." Her eyes became very round and wide at this point and he wondered for just an instant if she might make a dash for the door, but she continued to sit and take it all in with her full attention. and As he began to reveal the details during this encounter, she could feel her heart start to beat a little bit faster and the blood start to rise. She could feel herself beginning to blush at these words and was trying to compose herself enough to think straight. At first, she was trying to decide whether he was off his medication at the moment or just being put up to this as some kind of stunt. She did not feel afraid of him though. He was well spoken and concise . He seemed to be enjoying delivering this little speech and showed a certain confidence. At times he seemed amused as if he couldn't help see some humor in this absurd little proposal he was making. Above all, he struck her as very sincere somehow. This was no put-on. She believed that she really was being offered a role to play whatever it might be. Her curiosity for the moment was eclipsing a host of other thoughts. She had a million questions now. But again, he gave her no time to take some initiative in this unusual conversation as he pressed on. "Here is what you need to know if you choose to play along with your role to the end. First, it will last 6 weeks weeks. It will require thirty minutes one day each week, and it will require at the end of the sixth week on a Friday night a total of four hours. You will be only required to be yourself, and respond to events however you see fit. You will be presented with situations and choices where you may simply choose to play along. The characters in my story are concerned with risk and control - the having and the surrendering. That is important to keep in mind when you make your decision." "I am putting in front of you a card with my email address on it. I don't expect an answer right now, and I am no hurry to receive it. Just think about it for as long as you need. If and when you are ready, just simply send me a message saying you are ready to start and I will direct everything after that. You will get instructions which you will either follow each day or not. If you choose not to follow at any point, then the book is closed and our meetings are at an end. I will not contact you after that. Think what you will about all of this but I am certain of one thing; I am offering to you something no one has ever offered you before. I look forward to playing with you. I know you will." He began to rise from his chair and gave her a fixed look as he slowly and gently grabbed her by the hand and raised it to his lips and kissed it. After that he abruptly got up, and walked away without looking back. As suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. As she watched him go, Helene began to smirk a little. She was already beginning to dismiss the whole encounter as something ridiculous. It was of course flattering in a way that someone would go to so much trouble to entice her into some future meetings, and with such an imaginative presentation. But things like this do not happen to normal people and normal people certainly do not entertain such strange proposals. She looked down at the card. The side facing her was blank. She turned the card over and saw only a generic email address. No name was on the card. "What the fuck?" she thought. "He never even told me what his name was. Why would he not even mention that detail." It just reinforced how peculiar the exchange really was. She held the card lightly between her thumb and forefinger as if she were at any moment to release it and let it drop out of her sight and mind. But she hesitated. There was the undeniable thorn of curiosity that had pricked her. Could she take this business seriously? Of course not. But, it would be amusing to know what this man had in mind. She was not ready to close the door on knowing more about what was being offered. Without really thinking through the reasons, she simply pocketed the card and left the cafe. She had to return to work and had no time for this silliness. Later that evening as she walked back to her home, Helene was alone with her thoughts in the quiet streets under the dim street lights. She began to re-live the encounter. She was playing the brief exchange over in an endless loop trying to capture all the details. She thought about how the man looked, the way he spoke, and the peculiar sensation and effect it had on her at the time. It seemed so foreign - so surreal. Almost like something she would have read in a book. She had to hand it to this guy. The writer who wants you to help live out a fiction, and even with the first encounter you already feel like you are within the pages. Helene had tried to put it out of her mind that night as she got ready for bed but little flashes of the scene kept coming back to her and she kept asking herself a myriad of questions which she could not untangle. "Why did he pick me, really?" she wondered. Did he pick her because she looked gullible? Was this just a new style of pick-up strategy? Just another angle yet to be revealed by the host of women's magazines who were always the vanguard on dating strategies, and what men were thinking? Perhaps she ought to write one of those magazines and get the word out. She could easily imagine the article caption; "Watch out for the latest come-on ladies - its a stunner." "What was he trying to sell her on anyway?" she wondered. The idea was that she had needs - secret hidden desires. Wasn't that the angle? Who was he to make such claims about knowing anything. Wasn't that remarkable arrogance? Imagine telling a stranger you know what they need better than they know themselves. She really couldn't imagine. That night, she read her book a little before falling asleep as she always did but her focus was diffuse. She kept reading the same lines without retaining the content. When she finally fell asleep, she had made no headway on the plot. When Helene woke up, she sat up and stayed motionless for a time. She was trying to hold on to something that was usually so elusive to her. She was thinking about the dream she had just been having. The images had been so vivid that she was keen to sketch them on her waking mind. It was the type of dream where you wake up fully awake, and are relieved to find out you were in fact only dreaming. She had been on some remote foreign beach she had never seen, with a large group of people having a party under a dazzling canopy of millions of luminous stars. There was a vast sandy beach where giant tumultuous waves crashed down with ferocious energy upon the shore and raced back out to sea before gathering their energies for the next assault. Torches were set up all around to illuminate the area. Some strange almost tribal Caribbean festival was taking place with music, lots of drums and dancing, and a tangible air of joy and celebration. The focus of the celebration was centered around a large fire pit. People within the crowd were demonstrating that they could walk across a bed of coals. She remembered watching with fascination. There was a tremendous excitement in the crowd as everyone struggled to get a good view of the spectacle. They roared and howled their approval as one by one, men and women, young and old, stepped up and performed the act. She was sure that she could smell the burning of flesh as they strolled casually along twenty feet or so of glowing red walkway. She cringed and squirmed with each step wondering what madness had taken them over. Yet each one would step out with conviction and end with a smile of revelation. It was as if they knew what no one else knew - a secret of the ritual thus revealed. One man who finished this feat caught her gaze and held it as she stared in bewilderment. He walked back to where she was standing. As he approached she asked him if she could see how burned his feet were. He came up beside her with his knowing smile and put his arm around her shoulders with an air of affection and kindness. He said, "Lovely lady, why don't you take a little stroll for yourself on the coals. It is the only way to know what you need to know." She was terrified. For a moment she was afraid he was going to push her onto the path, and she violently jerked away from him. He seemed not the least surprised or upset. He turned back to the bed of coals with a sweeping gesture and said "The coals are everywhere." She felt like she had been suddenly jolted with electricity and was afraid to look down at her feet. She was forcing herself to look down with a powerful feeling of dread. And then she woke up. Playing Your Part Ch. 02 A couple weeks had gone by since Helene had been given her strange proposition. She dealt with it the only way she knew how. She had put up a wall within herself. She had tried to completely banish any thoughts about that man and his crazy ideas. Helene had made up her mind it was an unhealthy distraction to dwell on his offer, or any of the ideas he tried to plant about what kind of person she was or could be. What she wouldn't really admit to herself was that she was afraid. She refused to confront it or acknowledge it. If she had, she might have had to ask why this was so. Was she afraid that this man could change her? Was she was afraid she might lose control of who she would become? During this time of hiding from thoughts she did not trust, Helene was also hiding from her usual lunch time ritual at the cafe. She had to go a different location in the city even though it meant that it cut into her leisure time by increasing travel time. Over time this fact began to aggravate her more and more. She found herself becoming increasingly irritable with each passing day. By the second week she was venting in uncharacteristic ways with people she encountered. She recognized an anger was building and that she was angry with herself. Why should she be sacrificing precious time in her day, she wondered? The more she thought about it, the more she had to admit it didn't make much sense. It was childish. She resented that she could let some stranger make her feel so uncomfortable. She was not a doormat and she was no coward she told herself. If they met each other again she would just give him a polite but firm rejection and let him know that he had misjudged her. So, during the third week she returned to her usual establishment. The first time she walked through the door she was very nervous though she did her utmost to contain it. She kept telling herself to pull it together. As it turned out the anxiety was for nothing. The man with no name was not there. She was flooded with a sense of relief and laughed at herself. He was not there the following day either, nor that week. She was aware that almost every time the door opened to the cafe, she was glancing up to see who was entering in spite of herself. She was registering a little disappointment now that she wasn't going to run into him. After several days passed, it began to dawn on her that he must be deliberately not coming in here. It had been his routine. He said as much. But, not anymore. So he was avoiding seeing her she deduced. So, why was that, she wondered. She inevitably began to think again about what exactly he had said. He had said in effect that nothing would start until she said so and that there was no hurry. Was this man still waiting for the message that would likely never come? It was an appealing notion that fed her ego. A man was somewhere pining for her attention. She realized that his not showing up was to be expected. He gave the control to her - did he not? That was his theme. Control. Who had, and who surrendered it. She really wondered what he was thinking. Did he still really believe that she was going to agree? She thought it was unlikely that he believed it now but could not be sure. By the end of the fourth week, she had to admit she was hoping to see the crazy writer with the amusing ideas about fiction becoming life. She still wanted to ask him all sorts of questions about it. The less likely it seemed that she would run into him, the more fascinating the whole idea seemed to her. She wanted that story to read if not to actually live it out. * * * * * * * It had been almost two months since the first encounter with her favorite unknown writer. She could not bring herself to try to contact him. The longer she had waited, the more unlikely it seemed that she would be able to contact him. She knew how strange things were when she realized there wasn't a single person she could have chosen to discuss this situation with. The very idea made her embarrassed - especially because of how his offer had made her feel so conflicted. Things looked as though the standing offer would remain the road not taken. One day Helene was walking downtown during the day and decided to wander into the public library. She was a frequent visitor to the library. While she was strolling down one of the aisles, she glanced out to the inner courtyard of the building where there was a coffee shop and some small carts selling food to patrons. There was a handful of people sitting in the courtyard reading their books and enjoying their coffee or meeting friends for lunch. Her gaze below lingered for a few moments. She noted some young couple who looked completely absorbed by each others company, and she admired their obvious devotion. While watching them, a man walked across her line of vision and she had a shock of recognition. Her mystery man strolled through the courtyard, bought a coffee and sat down. He promptly stuck his nose into a book and was instantly absorbed in his reading. "So this is where he has been hiding out these days." she thought. Her first instinct was to simply go straight downstairs and flop into the chair at his table and start asking a whole bunch of questions she had been dying to ask. She was already starting to move to the stairs when a different idea occurred to her. This man had spent some time making observations and judgments about her while she was oblivious to his attentions. She had an opportunity to do the same. She liked the idea very much. "It would be interesting to research this character a little bit." she thought. "That would even things up a little." So she went back to the window where had been standing and looked around the courtyard for a moment. She started to scout around the concourse looking for a suitable vantage point where she would not be too noticeable. She moved down the hall of the second floor to a window seat where she had a good view of her object of study in side profile. His face was one of singular concentration in his reading, or so it seemed. She wished she had a pair of binoculars so she could see what he was reading. "Stalking is still a little too new to me." she thought. "I don't even have the basic tools." She laughed to herself as she pondered this notion. She had an image of herself with a wide hat and large sunglasses and a trench coat with many pockets - filled with all the gadgets of surveillance and disguise - peering around corners at her unsuspecting targets. She was now studying him with an intensity which matched that of the reader in front of her. It didn't take very long for her to make her first observation. He wasn't actually reading. He had not turned a single page yet. He must be watching something else she realized. She considered the trajectory of his gaze and deduced that he was watching the couple that had captivated her so recently. She looked back at them and wondered what information he was gleaning and what conclusions he was making about this pair. The couple was the perfect picture of romantic love from what she could see. The young man was animated and almost in constant contact with his hand on her hand, or her arm, or her back. He seemed unable to break contact for long. The girl was laughing at his jokes, and smiling at each caress. They looked directly into each others eyes almost without interruption. It really was a compelling site. As she looked on, a woman in a red dress entered from stage right. Her face was striking and if your eyes settled upon it for even an instant you would be inclined to do a double take. She was young and very pretty, but she wore a mask of pure malice that marred her appearance. Her jaw was clenched tight, and her face was contorted into a twisted sneer. She strode rapidly across the concourse. Her head was tilting forward slightly and she practically stamped her feet as she moved. For a moment one could almost imagine a bullfight was about to start. But was this the bull or the matador approaching? The woman in red stopped abruptly and turned to face the young man. Helene had the perfect vantage point for this scene. The young man was caught completely by surprise. Although Helene could not hear what was happening, it all seemed plain enough. The woman in red standing over the man was shouting an accusation. It was loud enough to cause all the people in concourse to turn in their direction. The young man leapt to his feet and grabbed the woman by both wrists as if he intended to take her away from the table. All the while she was shouting at him and becoming increasingly aggressive. His seated companion looked horrified as the violent emotions poured out of the hysterical woman. The woman in red jerked violently from his grasp and slapped the man full in the face. This event seemed to bring a dramatic pause to the action as each considered the import of what had happened. Then a burst of activity followed. The woman who had been seated rose quickly and started to run across the concourse towards the washroom. She was now in tears and in full flight. The woman in red seemed to take some satisfaction from this outcome as she yelled something after the fleeing woman. She then turned on her heels, gave a meaningful look to the young man and then started to saunter to the exit. The young man now had the stage to himself as all eyes were upon him. He appeared frozen in place and apparently could not decide what to do for a time. Anyone could see the anguish on his face. He was trembling and seemed to be staring at his hands as if he expected to find something in them. Helene felt very sorry for the man. It seemed unfair to merely watch this man suffer. The impulse to watch made her feel mildly guilty somehow. But the scene was not over. An even more surprising twist if possible occurred. The writer had got up from his table and approached the man directly and said something to him. The young man looked at him with obvious surprise and stared at him as if he were looking at a madman. More words were exchanged and in the next instant the young man lunged and grabbed the writer by the collar of his jacket as if ready to strike the man in the face. No effort was made to defend against a blow. The writer stood still and held his arms down. The two men were nose to nose. More words were exchanged in this position. Then the young man let go and took a step back. The writer continued talking and the young man simply listened. Again, the young man was frozen, and again the stare as if he beheld a lunatic. In the next instant the spell was broken and seemingly a decision was made. The young man ran across the concourse and burst through the door of the bathroom where his distraught companion had gone. After only a few seconds, some people began to rise from their chairs and head toward the door. Seconds after that, it seemed many people began to converge on the doorway and security guards appeared and forced their way through the cluster of bodies and entered the doorway. The young man next appeared with several men dragging him across the concourse. He was struggling with all his energy to break free but was no match for the determined men. He wailed and screamed and thrashing violently and would not be pacified. She last saw the man disappear down some hallway as the crowd stood and gaped. All in all it was a horrible scene and Helene was greatly affected by the spectacle. So much so that she temporarily forgot who she had been watching just minutes before. She glanced back at her subject and realized that he was on the move. "Damn it." she exclaimed. "He is going to get away already." She saw the writer heading for the main doors that led out to the street. She started to break into a run as she went along the hallway, down the stairs, and across the concourse. In the thirty seconds or so that it took to reach the street, she had lost him. On the sidewalk, she was snapping her head back and forth trying to figure out which way he went but could catch no sight of him. Defeated, she shuffled over to a bench and slumped down onto it and shook her head. "Well, stalking lesson number one" she thought. "Cover the exit if you expect to follow." * * * * * That night Helene had another dream. She was walking toward the entrance to the library. The sky was piercing blue and she noted that there was scarcely a person to be seen on the city streets and no cars anywhere. She felt completely relaxed and serene as she walked. She felt a warm sensuous breeze upon her face that was like a gentle caress. There was a peculiar lack of sound in the street. The silence seemed to hum and vibrate all around her. She started to feel like her body held no weight and that she could practically float at any moment of her choosing. She could scarcely register her footsteps as her body moved to the entrance of the library. The doors opened for her as she reached the threshold, and Helene thought that it was as if a curtain were being drawn back and a performance was to begin. Although it had been bright outside, the courtyard was dark as if night. There were many figures seated in the courtyard but none could be seen clearly. There was just a hint of noise as if an audience were already assembled and waiting with a tangible air of anticipation . She felt confused and thought that she too must find a seat. As she slowly traversed the courtyard she could see no empty seats at all. Finally she spotted a table with one seat. As soon as she took the chair, Helene noticed a book on the table. The book was lying face down to an open page. It was a book of quotations. She turned the book over and glanced at a quote that was on the top of the page. It was a quote from James Dean of all people. It said "Dream as is you will live forever, and live as if you will die tomorrow." At that moment the sound of a full orchestra exploded in the concourse and she heard the opening notes to the opera 'Madame Butterfly.' "Oh my god." she gasped. "Its a tragedy." A spasmodic jolt, and a gasp punctuated the end of scene, and left her shaking in her bed. * * * * * Sometimes decisions are made and one would be hard pressed to explain why. Sometimes its because the reasons are not well thought out and are the result of whim or impulse. Other times it may be that we wish to conceal the true reasons from ourselves. At times prefer to live in a state a denial about our motives when they clash with the stories we tell ourselves about who and what we are as individuals. Our principles, our character, our morality, our visions of who we are and what we stand for will sometimes not fence in our humanity. Inconvenient truths still occasionally slip past. Helene was typing the words but thinking surprisingly little about what they would mean. "I am ready to start." was all that was written on the screen in front of her. In the next moment, she sent the message to that anonymous sounding email address. Sending this message reminded her of the first time she jumped off a high diving board as a child. It was her first lesson in banishing logic. She remembered how everything inside her told her not to jump off the board. Her fear was assaulting her with notions of danger and making a compelling case. To proceed, she did not dispel the instinctual logic of danger with sober notions of physics or the observations of others in this experiment of jumping off. She instead had to force herself to simply ignore her thoughts. She had to tell her brain to shut up, and then simply step out without time to consider what would happen next. Only the experience would teach her if it was a good idea or a bad idea. If she only listened to her fear, she wouldn't know the exhilaration of free-fall into the water and how alive it could make you feel. It was time to make another splash. Playing Your Part Ch. 03 The reply came promptly. Within the hour of sending her message, Helene read the short response. "Meet me Saturday at 12:30 pm on the steps of the front entrance of art gallery. I will be waiting under that large and impressive gargoyle perched above the entrance. You can't miss it. Wear some sensible shoes as we will be doing some walking." Helene was amused by the mention of the gargoyle. "Writers and their damn symbolism." she chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "What's with that?" Helene had a couple days to wait for this meeting and she was of two minds about it. Part of her couldn't wait to see what was in store for her. Her new acquaintance clearly had some imagination. Another part of her was tangibly nervous and anxious. It was a feeling she hadn't had since her college days. She thought of her first time in a lecture hall where she had to stand up in front of a large group of her peers and give a brief summary of a report she had written. She had to provide an explanation of her report's significance and relevance within her discipline. She knew the material backwards and forwards. There was no doubt about the quality of her work or her ability to communicate it. And yet, as the time drew near to stand up and begin, it seemed her body became a completely irrational force that would not be tamed. She began to sweat, and her heart raced. Her ability to focus and organize her thoughts was elusive and the realization made her begin to panic. She thought she might be nervous, but not like this. This was more like facing a firing squad than a slightly disinterested group of students. She cringed at the idea that they would likely take far more interest in a personal meltdown than an academic discussion. "Please don't let me be that kind of entertainment." she quietly pleaded. Fortunately for Helene, a young man she knew recognized her distress and asked her how she felt. She readily admitted how nervous she was and how childish she felt. The young man said "Everybody feels that way at first, but not everybody has the courage to admit it. Just start with that fact and once the words start spilling out, you will be fine." The advice was sound. She got up and with a laugh admitted that this was her first real taste of public speaking which scared her shitless, and she hoped more than anything for a fire alarm to sound, or bomb threat to be called in. This was received with a good deal of laughter which somehow disarmed most of her nervous energy. In no more than a minute, she felt composed and relaxed and the master of her emotions again. As she joked later to one of her friends, "The truth shall set you free." On the morning of her arranged meeting, she found that old stage fright start to creep in as she looked into her bathroom mirror. She pulled at her hair, and turned her head as she considered different angles of her profile. She began to consider for the first time that maybe she would disappoint this man. Maybe she was not up to whatever challenges or expectations he might have. God only knew what he had in mind. "At least actors have a script for their characters. This feels more like some sort of stand-up improv." she fretted. What could be more devastating that bad reviews she wondered. * * * * * The morning of the first meeting was a classic spring day. The sky was very blue, with an appealing arrangement of clouds scattered around. The type of clouds one could stare at and find recognizable shapes everywhere within them if you only had the time and the imagination to try. They reminded her of paintings she had seen from some Dutch master who had so expertly arranged the play of the different shades of color that clouds can contain - from the most billowy white, to the angry grey-black. The wind was just strong enough to give the air a particular clean and sharp taste which made one's senses more alert and alive. It was the kind of day that Helene loved and put her in good mood as she took the short walk from her apartment to the art gallery. The day being as brisk as it was, Helene wore a pale knee length trench coat style overcoat and a vibrant colored scarf that she liked. Beneath that she wore a light sweater, some slacks and some flat shoes. Not the sexiest outfit she realized, but she liked how she looked and felt very comfortable this way. There was an understated elegance to her that she dimly appreciated. At noon on a Saturday the wide city street was jammed with people and was a hive of activity. Helene was crossing an intersection when she first caught site of the art gallery entrance and began to scan around for her new acquaintance. The entrance was crowded with a vast assortment of people who mingled around in clustered little knots. She was scanning back and forth across the entrance getting closer and closer. She remembered about the gargoyle and looked up to find it. It was funny she had never really looked at it properly before. Helene thought the figure was perhaps some some sort of representation of a fallen angel. It was a great winged creature not unlike a small dragon. But the torso and and arms were very much like a human. But what made it remarkable was the face. It was large with an imperious head with ancient visage. Its head was clasped between its hand and seemed to stare out rather intensely at all before it. One could imagine the face portrayed indifference, or even contempt, except that its tongue was firmly jutting out from the side. Was this meant to be mocking or perhaps lascivious? It was tough to say. Helene dropped her gaze below the figure and saw another face looking right at her. When there eyes met she was instantly pleased. The man sitting propped up against a pillar with his hand under his cheek and his head cocked to one side. He was smiling broadly and she got the impression he had seen her well before she had seen him. He quickly straightened, and moved down the stairs to greet her. "It is so nice to see you" he said. "You look wonderful." She beamed at him and replied, "You are not so bad yourself." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder and held him at arms length for a moment as she gave him a searching look. "So, what IS your name?" "You can call me Jack" Helene sensed something in this answer and squinted at him. "What does your mother call you?" "Jackson, actually." "Which do you prefer?" "I have been Jack since I was kid" "OK Jack. What's on the agenda?" Jack reached over and swung his around Helene's shoulder and started leading her to the sidewalk with a surprising ease and familiarity that she found so unusual. It was as if they were old friends. "For today I wanted to discuss some specific ideas and hopefully get a chance to explore their significance. For the time being, I would like for us to just walk and talk. We can go down to ocean front and walk the seawall. It is a good day for it." So Helene slipped her arm around Jack's waist and allowed herself to be led down the street all the while stealing glances at his expression. Jack dove right in to his subject matter. "Let me ask you a question. What is the most control you ever had over another person?" Helene scrunched up her face. "I don't know what to say to that. I don't look to control others. Its not something I look for." "Let me put it another way. Have you had anyone allow themselves to be directed by you in any significant way." "Maybe my parents. I sometimes could make demands on them which they would allow." "That's actually a good example. What about boyfriends?" "I suppose so. I could get my own way on places to go and things to do but I don't believe I really thought of it as control, exactly." "Fair enough. What would you think if I told you that I would give you complete control over me for the next 30 minutes? What would you think of that?" Helene started to laugh. "I think that would be great. Are you serious?" "I am. I want to give you an opportunity to experience that. I would have no limits whatsoever. What happens is entirely up to you." Helene broke into a mischievous grin. "Thirty minutes, huh? Let me set my watch." "OK. Starting now, I am all yours." "OK Jack. Remember this was your idea." Helene mind was racing with the possibilities. They were approaching the seawall and they was plenty of people walking past in both directions. She couldn't help but want to see what fun she could have at his expense. As she scanned the crowd, she saw a young man walking towards her who fashionably dressed and Helene guessed he a gay man - something not hard to find in this part of the city. Helene said "Alright, Jack. I want you to do something nice. Tell that man that he is beautiful." Helene smirked and looked to see what Jack's reaction would be. Jack rolled his eyes a little and shook his head ever so slightly. Then as the young man got directly in front of them, Jack said in somewhat formal way, "Excuse me, but I wanted to tell you that you are beautiful." "Well aren't you a sweetheart. Thank you!" the young man exclaimed with no small amount of amusement. "Your welcome." Jack said. Helene looked at Jack. "So, you really are going to let me mess with you?" "If that's what you want." said Jack. Helene looked at him more seriously this time. "Maybe we need find something more difficult. Something to test your commitment to this game." Helene felt like she was being challenged somehow and felt an obligation to live up to that challenge. She saw another man approach. This man was very large and strong looking. He had a barrel chest, large arms, and a big black beard. He was an intimidating presence. Helene thought she could find the limits to Jack's interest in this game right now. "Jack, I want you to go up to that man right there and without a word try to kiss him." Jack closed his eyes for a moment and sighed as he processed this request. Helene found his reaction hilarious and burst out laughing. "What, you can't do a simple thing like that?" she mocked in a sing song tone. Jack hesitated for a moment and then walked over to this dangerous looking man and blocked his path. The man looked at him with an expression of curiosity as if he couldn't figure out what Jack wanted. Then Jack started to lean in until their faces got very close together. The man seemed startled, and then angry and grabbed Jack by the hair and peeled his head back away from his own and held him there. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" The man bellowed. Jack said in a strangely quiet voice, "I was trying to kiss you." The man snorted and shoved Jack backwards, sending him falling over onto the pavement. This action caused many people to stop and stare. "Are you insane or what? Get out of here before I kick your ass." The man stepped around Jack, clearly very agitated, and continued walking while mumbling to himself about how he should put that guy in the hospital. Jack slowly got back up and checked his clothes and try to brush off some dirt on his leg. Helene was trying hard not to laugh but at the same time felt a bit guilty for causing Jack to get roughed up. "Jack, you didn't really have to do that. I thought you would have refused." "I don't think you have really grasped the significance of our game yet." said Jack. "Are you going to stand there and tell me that you will do anything I say - no matter what it is? That's crazy. That guy could have really hurt you if he wanted." "That's true." said Jack. The pair walked on for a little while and not much was said as Helene tried to consider what the real purpose of this game actually was. "Is this about testing limits, Jack? Am I supposed to be impressed by your commitment here? I don't get it. I don't know what to do with you at this point." They came to a higher of point of the seawall where there was a railing and long drop off into the ocean below. There were danger sings posted here about not climbing the railing. Helene leaned against the rail and stared down. She figured the drop was about 60 feet or so. There was no way to know how deep the water was here. Helene said "Jack, if I asked you right now to jump off this ledge into the water, would you do it?" "Yes." "How do you know that you wouldn't be seriously hurt?" "I don't." "I don't believe you would do it. Only a lunatic would do that just because someone asked them to." Jack simply shrugged at this statement, but there seemed to be a certain defiance in the look on Jack's face that Helene noted. "I think you are bluffing. I call your bluff. Jump off the ledge," Jack's face took on a new expression. He looked scared. But he did hesitate. Jack threw his leg over the handrail and landed on the narrow patch of ground on the other side. He looked down at the water for a moment, and looked back at Helene. He was searching her face for something now, and seemed not to find it. "OK. Wish me luck." he said and shifted his weight forward. Helene lunged out and grabbed Jack by the collar of his jacket before he could fall forward and yelled out, "OK, I believe you, I believe you, you crazy bastard. Now get off of there before you kill yourself." Jack turned and grabbed the rail and threw a leg over and deftly landed on the other side. Helene grabbed hold of him and pulled him close. "How much time do I have left Jack?" she asked. "About five minutes." Helene grabbed Jack's hand and led him to a bench under a tree, and told him to sit down. She looked intently at him for a moment and said "close your eyes and don't move." Helene took her hand and reached very gently up to Jack's face. She placed her fingers under his chin and slowly and gently traced his jaw line. She allowed her fingers to drag over his cheek and across his forehead before gently coming to rest upon his lips. Her thumb ever so carefully traced its contours. "Tell me what happens next time, Jack?" "Same as today, only we switch places." "I hope you are kidding." "Not even a little." "I don't think I am ready for that." "Who is." Jack gently reached up and grasped Helene's hand and entwined his finger with hers. He stood up and gently pulled her up to her feet. "I will send you a message later this week with a place to meet and any instructions as needed. You can always say no, but you wont." Jack slowly pulled his hand away, flashed a little smile and walked away without another word. Helene was speechless.