Time's Harlot: The Perils of Attraction, Seduction, and Desire

by Brenda Kuchinsky

  “Okay. I’m just saying. I love your get-up,” Sophia said, happy to change the subject.

  Maria sported a Mexican Day of the Dead mask. Black with the white outline of a skull and a glamorous black tux, reminiscent of Marlene Dietrich’s storied outfit, complete with white shirt and bow tie and an oversized white carnation on the lapel of her jacket. The black top hat kept interfering with her morbid mask. She finally checked it.

  “Let’s slip into one of these bathrooms and get it on. This masked crowd and your dress is making me horny,” Maria said. “I spotted loads of bathrooms upstairs on the way to the coat check.”

  She grabbed Sophia’s hand, dragging her up the sweeping staircase into the nearest bathroom, reeking of excess and opulence. Sophia’s black gown billowed out as they disappeared into the capacious room with a mirrored ceiling, gold faucets, a red bidet, nymphets and cherubs represented in sculptures and painted murals, and, most important, a convenient tufted blue velvet love seat for them to spread out on to their hearts’ content.

  Neither one of them heard the door open, so engrossed were they in their lovemaking, Maria giving and Sophia receiving, her red bottomed Sammies, slung over Maria’s busy shoulders, pulsing with pleasure as Maria slurped her clitoris as if it were a melting ice cream, which had to be tongued fast and deep.

  A moaning Sophia, her left eye opening, found herself looking up at a grinning Jacob, his cat mask pushed up to his forehead, proffering a pretty red whip like an offering, acting as if Maria weren’t on top of her.

  Sophia slid her legs off Maria’s startled shoulders, clamping them shut, sitting up with a whoosh and pushing bare-bummed Maria to the elegantly tiled floor with her trousers around her ankles.

  “Jacob,” a flushed Sophia stammered. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I was going to take a leak. Didn’t expect to find you here enjoying yourself with this burly fellow.” Jacob grinned broadly. “I guess there’s a fine line between business and pleasure for you,” he continued, eying Sophia hungrily. “I’d love to join you two,” Jacob said. “Here’s a whip that’ll come in handy. I bet you have a strong grip,” he said to Maria. “This guy could probably give me the walloping of a lifetime.” He was admiring Maria’s powerful build.

  “She’s not a guy,” Sophia protested.

  “Oh. Pardon me.” He looked at Maria more carefully. “Maybe it’s the mask,” he said lamely. “Oh,” he said, eyes widening with comprehension. “You go both ways, Mommy.”

  “I guess I do,” Sophia grimaced.

  “A lot of prostitutes can’t stomach men. They’re lesbians,” Maria interjected savagely. This whippersnapper was clearly getting on her nerves. “So, you want to join the party, Gustav?” Maria asked.

  “I’m Jacob,” he whispered, titillated by the animal menace emanating from Maria.

  “Jacob, Gustav, whatever, hand me that scourge so I can show you a good time.”

  Jacob obediently handed over the red cudgel, mesmerized by Maria’s commanding tone.

  “Down on your knees son. Pull down those pricey pants.”

  Sophia moved forward to intervene.

  Maria nonchalantly pushed her back onto the love seat, where she remained, immobilized by fearful fascination.

  “You heard me, Gustav. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

  Jacob, quivering expectantly, drooling as he unbuckled his Prada belt with trembling hands, fell to his knees, and offered up his snowy behind criss-crossed with shiny scars, a cloud of expensive spicy cologne emanating from him.

  Maria lashed out five times, bloodying that pristine surface with deep welts while crooning, “You’re a stinking filthy sodomite,” in rhythm to the whip’s whistles.

  At the fifth cudgel’s bite, Jacob came copiously, falling forward slowly, rubbery, to a prone position, his creamy milk spreading under him on the breathtakingly beautiful gold flecked tiles.

  Sophia, rousing herself from her stupor, shouted, “Is he dead?”

  Even though she witnessed a beatific smile transforming his drawn face, touching it with an inner sunshine, causing his visage to take on such an angelic aspect, he competed with the artistic cherubs all around them for most seraphic, she feared he had gone the way of Bernie and died with a smile on his face.

  “Of course he’s not dead. Does he look dead to you? Don’t be a silly cow. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I took the filthy fucker to heaven. Right, Gustav?” Maria asked, prodding his cheek with the tip of her shiny shoe. “I suggest you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again, son,” Maria said, dropping the pretty little scourge on his foolishly smiling face, bursting from a surfeit of pleasure.

  Twenty Seven

  “Get me some champagne,” Sophia said when they emerged from the bathroom, leaving Jacob to fend for himself.

  “Yes, madam. Your wish is my command.”

  Maria went off in search of libations while Sophia stared down at the masked Momma’s Boys and their guests. She pulled her bedraggled feathery concoction down over her face. She was surprised to find herself on the second floor because she hadn’t remembered frantically climbing the stairs in search of a bathroom.

  “I’m ready to go,” she announced to the returning Maria, toting a flute of champagne in each hand.

  “What? The fun has just begun,” Maria said, handing her one of the flutes. “Here. Let’s sit down and regroup. Relax. You’re too uptight. I was looking for some harder stuff but couldn’t find any,” Maria said, gulping the champagne.

  “There’s a bar down there near that wall.” Sophia pointed vaguely from her lavish gold upholstered seat while gratefully sipping her champagne.

  This scene was frazzling her nerves. There was something ominous about all these people floating around in masks. Maria going at Jacob with a gusto hadn’t helped. Her worlds were colliding.

  Maria, who had wandered off in search of the harder stuff, was tootling along towards her with a double whiskey, looking carefree and content.

  She plopped down in the gold beauty matching Sophia’s chair, drank deeply from her tumbler, and said, “We could be partners. I could handle the ones craving rough trade.”

  “Fuck, Maria. I like to keep my worlds separate. Now you’re trying to bleed everything together.”

  “Hey, hon. Wise up. Who invited Bernie to her home? Who agreed to a date with her massage therapist? Who invited her massage therapist to this shindig?”

  “You’re right,” she said with a resigned sigh, holding up her champagne-holding hand in a mock salute to Maria before gulping the rest down. “I apologize. You’re right. I’m invading my own spaces. However, I say no, no, no to your involvement in OEDIPUS INC. It can only end badly. It’s a one-woman operation, which I’m thinking of shutting down soon.”

  “At least let me be your protection,” Maria pleaded.

  “I told you. I don’t need protection.”

  “What about the black roses?”

  “I don’t know what to make of those. It hasn’t escalated into anything else. Look, let’s not spoil the evening further. That Jacob scenario was enough for me. Be a good boy and get me another one of these,” Sophia said, waggling the empty glass.

  “So now I’m a boy?”

  “Well, in many ways you are. Manly, that is. You’re a horny bastard, too.”

  “Look who’s talking. I think you’d win the contest for the horniest, hands down,” Maria said.

  “Oh, go get me that drink. This mask is tickling me to death,” Sophia said, blowing feathery strands out of her mouth. She rose up and walked over to get a view of the first floor’s activity.

  Sophia was staring vacantly at the burgeoning throng below, trying to empty her anxiety-ridden mind, burdened with worry about Maria’s aggression and possessiveness.

  She eventually focused, realizing she had been staring down at her own mother, swathed in a stunning red and yellow sari with a plethora of gold bangles adorning both wrists.
She was wearing a Ganesha mask, the elephant face with protruding trunk looking grotesque. Ada loved elephants. When Sophia told her about the god Ganesha, half human and half elephant, remover of all obstacles, she had been hooked. She started collecting Ganeshas.

  There was Rudy, the omnipresent companion, much like Ganesha’s rat, his constant companion, groveling at her feet, decked out in complete clown regalia, overshadowed by her bulky beauty, shining through despite her concealed face.

  She didn’t notice Maria returning with her bubbly, so engrossed was she in watching Ada down below.

  “What’re you looking at so intently?”

  “My mother, of all people, is down there. She’s dressed in a killer sari.”

  Sophia pointed her out.

  “She’s a big girl. That sari does look great on her. What’s she doing with that clown?”

  “Her fag. They’re inseparable. My parents divorced in their later years. They happen to live on different floors of the same dump on the beach. Ada has Rudy, who’s considerably younger, buzzing around her like a fly, and my father has this histrionic girlfriend who thinks she’s considerably younger than her age. They both picked real winners.”

  “Here,” Maria said, feeding Sophia a devilled egg. She had loaded a plate with hors d’oeuvres while fetching Sophia’s drink. Caviar and foie gras for her and eggs and spring rolls for Sophia as well as an assortment of cheeses and berries for both of them.

  “Mmmm, delicious. I didn’t realize I was starved. Let’s park our carcasses while I decide what to do about Ada. I wonder what she’s doing here.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Introduce me and ask her. She looks like a hoot.”

  “Hold on Mr. Jump-the-Gun. Let’s think this through while we enjoy our food.”

  “Okay,” Maria said as she continued to feed Sophia tidbits. “Hey, did you ever go over there after that hysterical call about someone tossing tomatoes at her?”

  “I went the next day and found her in bed with my father. I walked in on them doing it. I was shocked. Cheating with your ex-wife? I backed out of that room quickly,” Sophia said, frowning at the recollection.

  “If Mathilde, his playmate, ever found out she’d probably have his balls for breakfast. She’s the jealous type. When Ta came out of the bedroom with a sheepish grin on his face, I wanted to puke.”

  “You call him Ta. That’s cute,” Maria said, savoring some caviar and sour cream. “That’s cozy.”

  “I asked him if they did this often. All he said was, You asked me to watch her. Then he changed the subject.”

  “Ma thinks this skinny old lady, who just moved into their building, is the tomato tosser. There might be some connection to conflict in a concentration camp. Ma’s not exactly being forthcoming about any connections going way back. When it comes to the past, my mother is a closed book.”

  “Your mother was in the Holocaust?” Maria asked, wide-eyed.

  “My father too. Dead silence on the subject from both of them. Too horrid to discuss.”

  “Come on. Let’s go talk to her. You have one hell of an intriguing heritage,” Maria said, grabbing Sophia by the hand, interrupting her frantic ear pulling, and rushing her downstairs.

  “Zophitchka,” her mother bellowed across the crowded room, turning heads left and right.

  Sophia was glad she was wearing a mask. Her mother always had a way of drawing unwanted attention to her.

  “You recognized me, Ma.”

  “Zophitchka. You came out of my womb. I’ll always recognize you. Anywhere, anytime, any age,” she boomed, hugging her tightly, lifting up her mask, and smothering her with kisses.

  “What are you doing here?” Sophia asked.

  “What are you doing here? Who is this bucher with you?” Ada asked, turning her laser gaze on Maria, whose mask was pushed up on her head, scrutinizing her mercilessly.

  “This is not a bucher. This is Maria, my good friend.”

  Maria lifted up her mask to greet Ada.

  “Maria. You look like a man with a girlie face. Look at those muscles,” Ada said, unabashedly squeezing her left bicep as if she were sizing up an animal for market.

  “Ma, don’t be so rude,” Sophia said.

  “Are you a lesbian or one of those girlies who want to be a man?” Ada asked, ignoring Sophia’s admonition.

  “Actually, Ma, I am a lesbian. I’m hooked up with your girl here,” Maria said, putting her arm around Sophia. “As for your other question. I’ve thought about it. Taking the hormones. Having the operation.”

  Sophia shook her off.

  “Don’t pay any attention to her,” Sophia said.

  Ada stared at them, eyes narrowing, not knowing what to believe.

  After an awkward, interminable silence, drowning out the music and conversation swirling around them, Maria pulled down her mask and pushed Sophia out of that space.

  “You cut to the chase, old girl,” Maria threw over her shoulder at the uncomprehending Ada, as they moved towards the massive front door.

  Twenty Eight

  When the cell phone’s insistent chiming woke Sophia from a deep sleep, she was drowsy and disoriented. It had taken her ages to fall asleep.

  The bedside clock glowed an alarming phosphorous blue three am at her. Her heart pounding, she answered. Ada’s shrieking greeted her.

  “Slow down, Ma. I can’t understand you. What is wrong? Are you all right?”

  “Nein, nein, nein,” Ada wailed. “I’m not all right. Somebody left a bag of kaka on the bed. Stinky shit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Sophia looked over at Titi next to her pillow, her reassuring slanted eyes looking back at her. She began to stroke her comforting fur with her free hand.

  “Mensch, what do you think I’m talking about? I came home late with Rudy from the party. We stopped at his friend’s house around the corner. I get ready for bed and I smell this … this … horrible odor. Then I see a bag in the middle of the bed and inside… I feel so sick.”

  “Ma, that’s terrible. Do you want me to come over?”

  “No. I’ll call Ta. He’s right here.”

  “Won’t Mathilde be with him?”

  “Don’t you know? They never spend the night together.”

  “No. I don’t know anything, Ma.”

  “It must be that fershtinkener Magda. Sie dekuchied mein neschume. She’s torturing my soul.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. Call Ta. I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Will you come tomorrow?”

  “You mean today. It’s three in the morning, which makes it Monday.”

  “Today. Tomorrow. Just come.”

  Sophia disconnected the call. She continued to stare at the cell and stroke Titi as if in a trance.

  “Ma. You are the most exasperating woman in the world,” she said to the four walls, before putting the phone down and falling into a troubled sleep.

  Sophia awoke at ten with a start. Some heavy shit must have gone down between Ma and Magda in their past life. “I’ll never know the whole story. Or, any of it for that matter,” she told an attentive Titi.

  Sophia fed the cat her organic gluten-free all meat deluxe cat food, obtainable only from Whole Foods, before showering.

  Gone were the leisurely Mondays. Ma, Maria, and Kurt all wanted a piece of her, destroying any me time she had once enjoyed.

  She was dawdling over her coffee on her balcony, enjoying the last few hours of peace before everyone else’s demands took over. The hot sun, filtered through the shade trees, dappled her back. Titi lay at her feet licking herself contentedly. The jasmine and gardenia laden air, the twittering birds, and the green tropical breezes lulled her into a euphoric mindlessness until the heat became oppressive. The stillness turned suffocating with the rising, smothering humidity.

  She rose abruptly when she heard the doorbell, donning a hot pink kimo
no, decorated with fanciful multicolored butterflies, and rushing down the stairs to respond to the insistent repeated jabs at the bell, burrowing into her skull with hammering precision.

  The last person she imagined at her door was standing on the threshold. His offensive grin, revealing sharp yellowed incisors, made him look like a feral dog, beginning to bare his teeth for an attack. He held his pointed clown hat in his hands, giving Remy free reign to frolic and gambol on a field of greasy black hair.

  Sophia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She stood gaping at him, holding back tears of ridicule or exasperation.

  “You look like a one woman pink butterfly farm. Pink clashes with your coloring,” Rudy said.

  “Thanks.” Sophia sneered.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in? I have a gig down the street from here so I’m in costume. I wanted to have a little talk with you,” Rudy said, pushing his way forward closer to the immovable Sophia, the stench of his breath invading her nostrils.

  “You’re always in costume,” Sophia said.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Now let’s go inside.”

  “How did you know where I lived?” Sophia asked, still standing in the doorway.

  “What difference does it make? I’m here. Now let me in. Stop playing games. Leave those to your mother, the master game player. Magister Ludi.”

  Sophia was surprised by his erudition. Latin? Herman Hesse? She realized that Rudy was none too steady on his pins. He had a greenish cast to what she could see of his complexion beneath the clown paint and there was a slight tremor animating his right hand.

  She stepped aside and pointed him to the living room.

  He shuffled in and plopped down in the closest chair with a loud groan.

  “I could use a drink,” he pleaded.

  Sophia walked over to the bar and poured him a triple scotch. An unholy mixture of stale alcohol, rancid tobacco, and acrid alkaline emanated from his pores.

  Remy had jumped down from his playground and was sitting on Rudy’s lap, his pink-rimmed, obsidian eyes blinking at Sophia.