Total Consciousness

Chapter-1: The Old Business of Men

Diego looked up at the cross and wiped sweat from his forehead. He lifted his chin higher, eyes tight and lips pressed thin. More sweat slid down his face and chest, and nothing else.

The image looked down at him, silent and unmoving.

     Still, no response whispered or moved or shined. Only Diego’s silver pocket watch ticked away, heavy and solid in his hand. Another sigh and he adjusted his brown business coat and black tie. He cleared his throat and looked at the nailed feet and hands.

     “What does it mean, Señor?” asked Diego. He glanced at the flickering candles to the side of the hanging cross. “What foolish business it must seem to you?” He chuckled with a red face and turned.  

     Diego squinted at the light entering from the exit of the cathedral. Still, he moved toward it and lifted his right arm to mid level. He tapped his right hand on the wooden pews, walking with unsteady steps down the aisle. His strained eyes turned from side to side. The light blanketed the small statues, oil paintings and onyx pearl tiles of the church interior. He faced the light.

     Diego reached the exit and paused for a deep breath. Red roses and incense and jasmine perfume attacked him. He frowned with a jaded pulse in his heart and continued on, stepping out of the old church into the scalding heat. A cold shiver spread throughout his body—he resisted it, fought against it and lost. He sneezed a few times and bowed his head in repentance. His right hand rose up quick and shielded his eyes from the strong light.

     He looked up at the stone ledges and found a bronze winged gargoyle frozen in laughter. The beast mocked him and reached out and judged him where he stood: a middle aged man, tall, wealthy, athletic, handsome and unsettled by his dreams.

     “God bless, honey. That was me thinking of you,” said a woman to the left.

     Diego lowered his gaze and sneered at her. “Oh … Esmeh.” He resisted his urge to remember, fought against it for another blink and lost. Memories raced up with each savoring detail he observed: thick legs, wide hips, slender waist, full breasts and an enchanting milk white face. And, her curly black hair draped over her soft shoulders, reaching down her mid back in a thick mane.

     She tugged at her indigo dress again, lifting her alabaster white breasts and bouncing them into proper place, and smiled.

     “Honey,” she said, “you’re such a tease. What a dirty trick you played, leaving us after such an active year. All of my ladies missed you.”

     “They missed something else, Esmeh—not me.”

     Esmehraude laughed and blew a kiss at him. She moved in closer and crossed her arms in a self hug.

     “Come now, mi Guerrero, you’re special. Don’t sell yourself so low.”

     “Just another treat of your trade,” said Diego.  

     Esmehraude pushed her alabasters up with a deep inhale. She admired the rose bushes and acacia trees in front of the church. Holding calm for a deliberate moment more, she exhaled with a stretch and glided her arms down to her sides.  

     “A year later,” she said, “I found you in the market. You were lost in your own world among the bananas, peaches and cantaloupes of the shops. Seeing you there lifted my aching spirit from a dry spell … oh, it hurt to see you alive and well.”

     “On a different path; but, not lost Esmeh.”

     She sighed and looked up at the pulsing sun, exposing her smooth throat to the world. Another teasing inhale and she swallowed twice and looked back at Diego. No luck, she felt no bite in his eyes, no heave in his chest and no heat in his hips.

     “Honey, I thought of approaching you that day; but, it was a silly idea for a foolish little girl. A woman knows better. Nothing new in the world … one night you’re the best club de caballeros in Mexico City; and the next day, you’re an empty glass of dried up pleasures. God, how many years has it been?”

     Esmehraude drifted in to caress Diego’s arm.

     He side stepped her touch and pivoted and advanced from her.

     “More than six years, mujer. Excuse me; it’s been pleasant seeing you again. Take care, Esmehraude.”

     “Oh, come, come, honey. That’s not the kind of stiffness I’m interested in. Relax, we aren’t complete strangers. I know you and you know every part of me too. Say, what has you so troubled that it brings you to church on a Friday afternoon?”  

     Diego flinched and frowned for a brief pause. He relaxed.

     “My world still revolves around business, Esmeh. The priest and I had an old business matter to discuss.”

     Esmehraude glared at Diego playfully and tucked her chin.

     “Oh, honey, I understand business too. Come here,” she placed her hands over breasts, “there’s no need to worry. The business we share together stays between us, just like a confession or a doctor’s visit.” She laughed and adjusted her hair, all the while staring into Diego’s eyes.

     “I know your business, Esmeh … don’t need it anymore.”

     “Aha, there it is, there she is. If not us, then from whom do you drink? Honey, I’m not the jealous type. A wealthy man like you needs more than one in his life. It’s only natural.”

     Diego looked back at the church. He squinted with a puzzled look, and side glanced at her. “I didn’t think you were much of a church going woman.”

     “Oh, I’m not, honey.” Esmehraude adjusted her cleavage again and popped a peppermint into her mouth from her blue purse. “Every other Friday I visit the priest for an hour. It tickles me wet to see him squirm. He gets all red faced and sweaty when I tell him about my heated adventures.” She applied fresh lipstick and continued, “You know, he really likes my stories. He tries to hide it behind all this church stuff. Does a poor job at it, I can tell …. All men desire women in their own peculiar way.”

     Diego leaned back with wide open eyes and shook his head.

    “Nothing’s changed with you,” he said, “a true woman of chaos, Esmeh.” Diego gave a brief smile with a nod, and walked away. A few steps and he turned and looked back one more time. An old thrill jumbled up from below. He watched her walk away.

     Esmehraude extended her arms wide, searching for a hug as she entered the old cathedral. In her laughter she spun around and blew a kiss at Diego, and offered one last courtesy, and failed. Content, she turned back and continued deeper into the church. The clap of her heels echoed all around with each deliberate step down the aisle. She reached the altar and knelt on her left side. And, she blessed herself with the sign of the cross. All set, she rose, pushed up her cleavage and headed to Father Philippe’s office.