Total Consciousness

Chapter-3: A Pledge Accepted

The weekend opened with the usual delights of city night life. Marco and his friends visited local bars, eateries and nightclubs in search of entertainment and relaxation. Others in the city gathered with friends or family. Still, for many, another option played out. A significant percentage of Mexico City carried on with the work week and readied to earn into the weekend.

     One of these workers of the extended work week philosophy, Diego Guerrero, continued burning the lamp oil in his office. He carried on this Friday evening preparing the contracts and letters needed for the trip to Spain. Mean while, his assistant Patricio, also a member of the extended work week crew, searched the streets of Mexico City for Marco.

     Two eateries, two bars and two nightclubs later, Patricio found himself at La Gata, one of Marco’s favorite establishments.

     A young hostess in a tight orange corset with a matching short skirt waited in the lobby. Her mid-thigh white stockings, orange garters and tangerine high heels stroked Patricio’s attention. She approached him, and asked,

     “Hola caballero, what’s your pleasure for tonight? Do you like ‘em tall, short, thick, slim, or extra curvy? How about brown hair, black hair or rubia? Ah, maybe you want two at a time. Yum … what’s your pleasure, bonbon?”

     Patricio ignored the hostess. He inspected the receiving area and looked at the staircase, wondering if Marco humped above or below. He asked, “I’m searching for Marco Riego. Is he here?”

     “Riquisimo,” replied the hostess, “I knew you had deviant tastes, bonbon. Such manly pleasures.”

     A disgusted expression smeared across Patricio’s face, and his body gagged at the jab. Quickly he replied, “Women, I only bed women. Marco is a coworker that is needed for an assignment. Is he here or do you know of his whereabouts?”

     The hostess sighed and replied with a playful disappointed tone. “Bonbon,” she said, “our establishment honors the privacy of its clients. I can’t help you with … such, intimate information.”

     Patricio nodded his head, and said, “of course there’s a price.”

     The hostess returned to her cheerful voice, and continued, “Pero, we have some gorgeous ladies that delight in eating sweet candy like you up.” She double air kiss at him and she winked.

     Patricio rolled his eyes and shut them tight. He rubbed his temples and forced a smile before repeating his question in a hurried manner.

     The hostess only laughed and growled at him, extending her right hand in a clawing motion.

     Patricio coughed as he moved to the exit. A woman called out from an adjacent room, forcing him to stop mid stride.

     “Not so fast, honey. Don’t come to an end so soon.” Through a heavy curtain that covered a gothic doorway, Esmehraude’s heels tapped with rhythmic precision as she entered the lobby in her tight indigo dress.

     “Buenas noches, honey,” said Esmehraude, “you know our policy. Privacy is king here. Still, I’ll give you a hint. Ahem, privacy is king; pero, the words released in the heat of passion, ahhh, so delicious, well, hell … that’s a different matter. Above all, the wet words of passion are allowed to be free, to come … to come as they please, honey.”

     Patricio looked up at the ceiling and felt a painful pulse in his eyes and ears. He inhaled deep, and asked: “How much will it cost, Esmeh … how much for information on Marco’s location?”

     Esmehraude licked her lips twice and laughed. “Three times the usual fee and at least fifteen minutes of service, honey. That’s my final offer. Of course, a quick bath is also required. Come, I volunteer to be serviced. Oh, yes, make me believe you really want the information. Come, come, right this way … right this way, honey.” Her heels backed him up as she puckered her lips and reached out for a tip.

     A mixture of excitement and anger palpitated up Patricio’s back and core. He agreed: “Fine, it’s a deal.”   

     Smoothly, Esmehraude moved in with a tight hug, pressing her cleavage against his chest. In reflex, Patricio reached out and placed his arm around her waist.

     She stared at him with half closed eyes, waiting for a firm grip.

     Patricio inhaled her strong jasmine perfume and remembered, lowering his hand to her plump butt. Lustful fire burned in his eyes, bright with thick bites and tugs as he gripped her massive cheeks.

     Thrilled with her catch for the night, Esmehraude massaged her breasts on him some more and smiled. A mixture of wet heat and dance bloomed between them as they stepped through the heavy curtain door.  

     Forty-five minutes later, Patricio left La Gata with the information he needed. He extended his arm and hailed a horse and buggy. He climbed up and settled in, and he read the note in his hand and smiled with pride. Esmehraude wrote this note for him as he took her from behind—pounding shock wave, after shock wave, through her smooth cheeks and up her spine.

     Marco planned to spend the rest of his night in an upper-class nightclub, Azul Celeste. Hopeful, Patricio believed his search for Marco would soon come to an end.

     The burning light from the streetlamps flickered in and out as the small carriage hurried on. Patricio relaxed as he rode along, listening to the rhythm of the evening. All around him, Mexico City breathed music, motion and desires of night. And, just as he relaxed to drift into the magic of the night, his ride ended. 

     Patricio felt betrayed as he looked at the supposed nightclub. He stood in front of a simple building: two floors, rusty red brick factory, and no windows. A closer look and he found a small, faded sign above a solid steel door: Heavenly Blue. To his surprise, the massive door opened smoothly, without any noise.

     Once inside, Patricio hesitated for several odd breaths. A strange grey waiting room greeted him. To his immediate left, behind a counter, an attendant looked up and gave a perfunctory smile.

     Patricio rushed forward: “I’m on urgent business. Is Marco Riego here; or do you know of his whereabouts?” He frowned and judged the room with contempt: plain gray walls, three gray seats, gray floor tiles, one gray door and two plain oil lamps on gray trays.

     The attendant, in his plain gray suit, smirked and coughed twice. “Greetings, señor,” he said. “I am not at liberty to divulge any information about this establishment.” The attendant gave a quick fake smile and waited for a response.

     Patricio bit his tongue and glared at the attendant: “I have a vague description of a counter to your statement. My instructions are to say ….” He looked over his note. “Ah, yes, I request entry by A Triple or The Triple. Does that mean anything to you?”

     The attendant’s smile opened, and his eyes sparkled with a perverse glow. He said, “If the gentleman wishes to enter by way of The Triple, then I may take a message of three words and search inside. Here sir, you may write your message on this paper with this graphite.”

     “Of course, by way of The Triple is fine.” Patricio sighed with relief as he etched his message on the piece of butcher paper: Patricio, Urgent, Bank.

     “Very good, sir, I shall search,” said the attendant. He palmed the message and unlocked the gray door to his side. And he stepped through, leaving Patricio alone with his thoughts.

     Seven detailed minutes ticked away as Patricio snickered with a lewd grin. He lost himself in his private inner dreams.

     The gray door opened, and the attendant returned.

     “Sir, I have a written message for you. And, I have additional instructions after you have read the message.”

     Patricio snatched the note up and read his message aloud with an irritated tone, “A Pledge Accepted.”  

     The attendant merely smiled and nodded.

     “What in the hell is the meaning of this?” Patricio’s mouth reeled back as though he were about to spit in disgust. Instead, he continued, “Is this some sort of a game for you? I’m here on urgent business. Stop this tripe at once and let me in.”

     “Sir,” said the attendant, “I have been instructed to divulge some pertinent information. First, Marco is present. However, you may not send anymore messages. But you may enter to speak to Marco only as A Pledge Accepted. Critical of all, Marco intends to stay here all weekend long.” The attendant patted his gray suit and scowled at the interloper.

      The muscles on Patricio’s neck twitched tight as he looked at the gray door the attendant had used earlier. Furious and insulted, his face quaked with his reply. “Unbelievable, unforgivable piece of … I have money, a good deal of money. How much to enter? I have no time for these idiotic, repugnant, childish games.”

     The attendant lifted his chin at Patricio and shook his head in a slow disheartened sway. He said, “That is not the correct answer, sir. It will cost you. Delaying the process any longer will result in your expulsion from the premises. You now have three minutes to comply.” The attendant retrieved his silver time piece from his upper coat pocket, showed it to the guest and smiled.

     Patricio stood petrified, boiling in shock, lost in disbelief.

     A minute later the attendant called out, with much zeal: “Two minutes remain, sir. Two minutes.”

     Knots ached all over Patricio’s body, tightening him up into slow breaths. He worked on regaining his composure as he glared at the attendant. No other options came to mind, as he released his balled-up fists, and replied in a low defeated tone:

      “I … I accept to enter as … A Pledge Accepted.”

      “Splendid sir, right this way … right this way.” The attendant extended his arm and led Patricio through the heavy door, into another duplicate grey room.

     “Right,” said the attendant, “here are the rules from this point on, señor. One, do not speak unless spoken to first. Also, you must speak in the third person and refer to yourself as This Pledge. Three, all commands given by your guide walker, that’s me, must be followed to the exact. Four, all club members that a pledge communicates with must be addressed as Your Worship and then their name, if known. For instance: Your Worship Marco or His Worship Marco. Fifth, you must end all your responses with sir or ma’am. Any questions before we continue, Pledge?”

     A strained look pressed onto Patricio’s flustered face: “No, sir.”

     “Aha, well done, pledge. Here, use this blindfold and secure it over your eyes. Good, good, nice and tight; now, secure this leather collar on your neck. Great, great, move closer, please; one moment, let me clip this chain on your collar. Spectacular, next, form an X with your wrists so that I may tie your hands together. Yes, just like that, marvelous. Oh, don’t look so glum, my chum. All set. Is the pledge ready?” 

     With trembling lips and his heart pounding in his chest, Patricio replied with a beet red face: “This Pledge is ready … sir.”

     “Excellent, let us move. Follow behind me and remember my instructions, pledge. Oh, one more thing, pledge, there is a most severe punishment should you … remove your blindfold once we reach the main hall. Be warned. Do not, for whatever cause, do not remove this blindfold. This is not a game. The members of this club are dead serious about these rules. Please, do not test them, pledge.” The attendant tugged on the chain and guided Patricio through another grey door. The door clicked shut, and the attendant/ guide walker stopped.

     “Oh, right, right … my apologies pledge, I am forgetting your punishment. Please raise your hands in front of you. Good, good, now prepare for judgment, sentence and punishment. For delaying entry, the pledge must receive three slugs to one hand.”

     Sweat dripped down the side of Patricio’s red face. Rage boiled within him, and he complied with opening his left hand. Quick, quick, quick, three hits from a thick ruler landed on Patricio’s hand. Each slug made a loud smack that echoed in the grey room. He winced at the sting and heat delivered to his hand. A stellar burst of shame and resentment reverberated in Patricio’s chest. Beyond bloodlust, he breathed heavily through his nose as he clenched his teeth tight.

     “Right, well done pledge … wait for me here as you are. I must clear the way forward before we advance.” The attendant left.

     Once more, alone with his thoughts, Patricio waited six minutes before the guide walker returned. Three quick tugs on Patricio’s collar and the two men moved forward.

     Several rooms later and after much deviant contemplation coursing in Patricio’s mind, the guide walker and Pledge stepped into a warm room. Music, laughter and exotic perfumes mixed in the air with the strong choke of cigar smoke. To his left, Patricio heard a woman in heels dancing on a wooden stage while some men cheered and whistled. To his right, he heard several men placing bets at a roulette wheel. And, farther ahead, off to the side, Patricio heard women ordering drinks.

     “Well done, pledge, we are almost there,” said the guide walker. He reached out and patted The Pledge on his head three times. Patricio choked and flinched back with embarrassment.

     Familiar voices in conversations drifted all around Patricio; but one voice gripped his hatred the most, Marco Riego.

     “Here we are Pledge.” The eager guide walker tugged once on Patricio’s chain and collar and smiled. “His Worship Marco is to your left. Go on, now, speak your message.”

     “Marco, I …” a quick hard yank choked Patricio to a stop. The laughter of two familiar men erupted around Marco.

     “No … No, pledge, we discussed this, try again,” said the embarrassed guide walker.

     Patricio struggled to hold his composure as he tried again.

     “Your Worship, Marco … this pledge … this pledge, has a message from Diego Guerrero. The message is: your presence in an urgent matter is required tonight. Please, return quickly to the bank as soon as possible. This is a time sensitive matter, sir.”

      Marco wiped his tears as he finished laughing. He said, “Thank you, pledge … go and wait for me at the main receiving room. I will be there in short time. Guide walker, you may leave us now.”

     “Your Worship Marco is most kind,” said the guide walker. He tugged Patricio’s collar, and they stepped away. “By your leave, gentlemen. Come, pledge, we move.”

     Smoke hit Patricio in the face. He coughed several times as they moved back the way they came. His face trembling with each step.

     A drunken couple walking near Patricio and the guide walker stumbled. They caused Patricio to trip; and he fell hard on the floor with a man and a woman crashing onto him.

     “Bad, pledge, bad,” said the red-faced guide walker. “We do not trip and fondle the club members. His and Her Worship, apologies, truly, please accept our apologies.”

     The man on the floor laughed and then uttered back in a drunken voice. “No, pro-blame, no pro-blame, he’s ador-ah-bell. How old is he? Is he old enough to be mounted by my friend here? I think she had a craving for cub meat.”  

     In relief, the guide walker replied: “Your Worship, this is yet a day-old runt; nowhere near the minimum thirty-day club cub rule.”

     The woman drooled over Patricio as she drank from her half empty tequila bottle: “Very innocent, I like them young. Perhaps another time, guide walker.” She rubbed Patricio under his chin and air kissed him twice.      

     “Your Worship is most kind,” said the guide walker, “perhaps another time, indeed. Please excuse us; we have other matters to attend to.” The guide walker tugged the chain and continued.    

     The couple giggled and laughed as they stumbled away.

     Patricio reflected on the odd couple as they exited the warm room. The man and woman that tumbled on him felt as though they were naked. Three more tugs of his chain snapped him away from his thoughts.  

     “This way pledge,” said the guide walker, “move along now … move along—good boy, that’s a good boy.”

     Quiet, calm and collected, Patricio sat in the main receiving room of Azul Celeste, waiting and thinking, and thinking.

     Marco stepped into the gray plain room, twenty minutes later.

     An infinite second of drenched anger waved over Patricio. Without a word, he stood, shook his head and reached for the exit, as he side glanced with disgust at Marco’s details.

     Marco Riego: tall, athletic and blessed with devilish handsome features all around. Stylish, his black curly hair shined with copious amounts of pomade. And his smooth rich brown tan had a divine glow that melted all women within a thirty-three-meter radius. Fashionable, Marco dressed in fine clothing, with a hint of perfume, even on his days off.

     At twenty-six, Marco was well known for his looks, sharp mind and his gorgeous twenty-year-old wife. In business, all respected him for his excellent, dependable and self driven demeanor. However, in most high-class circles of Mexico, Marco’s reputation included a long track record of being a well accomplished womanizer, earning him the nickname of El Gallo.

     In a cheerful tone, Marco jabbed at Patricio’s shoulder: “All fun and games, Patricio, you know how some of these clubs are.”

     A smile wired itself onto Patricio’s face. He opened the thick steel door and exited the building, ignoring his coworker.

     Marco turned to the attendant and waved, as he rushed after Patricio.

     “Hold on a moment,” said Marco, “it was a joke. But on a serious note, these clubs are dead strict with their rules. Thankfully you were a good sport, Patty Cakes.” He reached over and smacked Patricio on the rear.

     Patricio glared over his shoulder at Marco and increased his pace: “Jokes are not my strong side, you know that, Marco Palo; but, after tonight, I’m willing to try my hand at some jokes. Guided by your example, I hope you’ll find my sense of humor to be funny as well—maybe even funnier.”

     In between a few chuckles, Marco replied in a condescending tone of voice: “Oh, Patty-Cake, Patty-Cakes … banker man … drop this matter as fast as you can. And shake it off with a good laugh, my good man. You know, I doubt you have the stomach for this. So, don’t even start, little Patty-Cakes.”

     Patricio leaned into his walk with a greater sense of purpose. Each breath he took steamed with plans sprinting through his heart. And, at a quarter to eleven at night, Patricio stormed into the bank with Marco trailing a full three minutes behind.

     The meeting with Diego, Marco and Patricio lasted an hour. During which, an action plan was created. On Saturday morning, Marco would take the first available stagecoach to Veracruz and reach the place of rabbits, Tuxpan, no later than Wednesday. The Sea Ship Plata was scheduled to be in port by Thursday; and would leave for Spain a few days later on Sunday, maybe Monday at the latest. Marco would secure passage and send a courier back to the bank with a written account of his trip to Tuxpan. In addition, a short telegraph message would be sent to inform the bank of his progress leading up to his departure.

     “Marco, thank you,” said Diego as he organized his desk. “Your commitment to the bank is commendable. Should you have any questions about this trip, please send us a telegraph before your departure. We will have someone posted at the telegraph station, day and night, starting this Monday.”

     “Of course, señor, I will send word as soon as possible.” Marco smiled at Patricio with a crooked look.

     “Gentlemen,” said Diego, “let’s end it here for tonight and meet up again in the morning.” He nodded his head and motioned for Marco and Patricio to leave.

     “Excellent plan, señor,” said Patricio, “of course, Marco should feel at ease. The bank gives its pledge to take good care of his wife, while he is away.”

     Patricio glared at Marco with an asymmetrical smile.

     “Yes, that’s right,” said Diego, “forgive me for not mentioning it earlier, Marco. The bank will honor the pledge that Patricio has made. Your wife will be taken care of. Should she need anything, rest at ease on that front. The bank will provide any assistance she may need.”

     “Thank you, I appreciate the support,” said Marco. He looked over at Patricio with an awkward glare.

     The two men exited Diego’s office and walked in silence. In profile, a thin smile formed on Patricio’s face as he looked straight ahead, fire biting in his eyes.

     On Saturday morning, Marco boarded his stagecoach at 7:30 for a direct route to Tuxpan, Veracruz. With no rest day scheduled, his stagecoach was scheduled to arrive Wednesday afternoon. At present, the stagecoach rolled into action, and Marco smiled at his plans: a vacation in Spain, business, negotiations and delectable bedding of exotic Spanish women.

     To the side of the stagecoach, Marco’s wife, Alma, stood with a tired expression all over her body. Distracted by the early morning clouds, her gaze seemed distant, as though she were trying to see a hawk, hundreds of kilometers away.

     The stagecoach picked up speed as Alma raised her hand and held it in place, at heart level. She forgot to wave. Instead, she let out a deep sigh and rolled her shoulders forward.

     “Don’t worry, Señora Riego,” said Patricio, “the bank promised your husband to look over all your needs. Should you require anything at all, please, feel free, will you … and ask.”

     “Thank you, señor, the bank is kind to offer.” Alma glanced at Patricio for a moment and felt an uncomfortable jolt in her lower core. It forced her to look back at the stagecoach in embarrassment.

     “As a matter of fact,” said Patricio, “Your husband instructed me to have a short meeting with you after his departure today.”

     Alma turned and glimpsed back at Patricio. A pulsing feeling spread below her navel that frightened her and shook her body loose. She gasped and nodded her head a few times and turned to the stagecoach. An ember flickered with life, deep in her lower core. It amused her and she smiled. Her eyes glittered and her face brightened up. She held back a giggle as she waved goodbye to the stagecoach.

     There was a difference in her eyes; and it caused an immediate concern to grip Marco’s throat. His co-worker stood shoulder to shoulder with Alma. A huge bright smile radiated from Patricio’s face. He nodded his head in slow motion. From a growing distance, Marco held his hand in mid air, while Patricio mouthed three words, over, and over again: A Pledge Accepted.

Thank you

     I appreciate your time in reading this blog post. Next Saturday I will skip a head and post the first of Chapter Fourteen: Under the Sun, from my first novel: Guerrero of Passions.

     If you have an interest in learning more about my writing and philosophy of metaphysics, feel free to explore my website, totalconsciousnesses.com on WordPress.

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