A Story I Wrote

An Evening with The Empress and Fool

A chorus of yapping erupted upon pressing the doorbell. I could hear her footsteps and then her voice commanding, “Back, back” as she opened the door.

There she was bent over, shoulders bare, one arm lying across her chest holding up her dress, the other shooing the trio of “beasts.” “Come on in, hurry,” she said. So I stepped across the threshold into the foyer.

She stood and with that simple movement all air that had been in my lungs withdrew, leaving me breathless. Stunning was she. Stunned was I.

The Empress and the Fool awakened; one in her smug knowingness
and the other in her desire.

“I could use some help with the hooks and zipper,” she said turning her back to me. The zipper of her black cocktail dress was undone halfway. I grasped the metal clasp, pulling upward, covering the bronze skin beneath.

The Fool was shaking, the Empress chuckling.

“Did you get the lower hooks? There are several hooks lower down the zipper,” she instructed. Still trying to recover my breath I undid the hook and pulled the zipper downward, revealing the curve of her spine and the top of her panties.

The Fool urged me to slide my hands in and rest them upon her hips then step forward, press up against her back and trace the curve of her neck to her shoulder with my lips, tasting and inhaling her.

The Empress immediately regained control forcing me to focus on the task at hand. I fastened one hook, then another, pulled the zipper upward, silencing the Fool with one last hook.

We left. The bickering began in my head. “Fool,” said the Empress. “Here you go again. When will you realize that Pinkerton lies, Romeo and Juliet die, and glass slippers will cut your feet?”

“Have you not heard of Cyrano? Have you never had Breakfast at Tiffany’s and why do you think that fairy tales end with ‘and they lived happily every after’,” replied the Fool. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained!”

“Humph,” the Empress retorted, “And what about it takes two to tango? You never were very good at math.”

The Fool placed her fingers in her ears and began singing loudly, “I could have danced all night, now that I’m on the street where she lives, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must’ve done something good, Maria, I just met a girl named Maria…”

“Ha,” shouted the Empress. “Her name is NOT Maria. You’re name however is Fool which according to Webster’s’ means idiot; stupid or ridiculous person.”

The Empress glanced at the Fool and saw the hurt in her eyes. “It’s all very well to be dreamy, creative, impulsive, and romantic but to be in control of one’s life one must remain alert, responsible and realistic. You just open yourself up like a book and risk your heart every time. When will you learn?”

“I’d rather risk my heart on the chance that I’ll find love than build walls and hide behind a façade of heartlessness.”

“Fine, suit yourself.”

“I will,” replied the fool glancing at the long, brown legs leading from here to eternity.

The beating of my heart increased with the RPMs of the engine as I tried to silence the duo within.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” muttered the Empress. I responded.

With the Fool leaving a trail of glitter, we entered the ballroom and found our seats. The Empress ensuring that manners were minded, greetings exchanged, and applause appropriate and polite.

The Fool kept glancing over my shoulder taking in every twinkle of her golden brown eyes, every soft word, and flash of smile. When she stood and crossed the room to say hello to old friends, the Fool followed with my eyes until the Empress intervened cautioning me not to be so obvious.

“But,” I thought, “She is the most beautiful woman in this ballroom.” I watched as she engaged in conversation, both men and women responding to her charm and wit.

I wondered, “How was it that fortune smiled upon me this evening, and allowed me to be her escort?”

“Because you listened to me,” whispered the Fool.

“Be careful whose counsel you follow,” countered the Empress.

“Both of you be quiet,” I demanded as she returned to her seat. I smiled and she smiled back.

The evening’s festivities soon concluded and we made our way outside, entered my car and began the journey back to where the evening had begun.

Images of freckled shoulders, the curve of her back, the fullness of her bosom, invaded my mind. I turned to the Fool and told her to stop. She reluctantly complied.

“Maybe she’ll need help undoing the hooks,” the Fool suggested. The Empress immediately reached over and slapped the Fool’s hand “enough!”

False logic crept into my head. “Well, maybe she does need help. Will it really hurt to ask to come in, just in case?” The Fool smiled. The Empress rolled her eyes.

She had removed her key from her bag as we pulled up the drive. “I told you,” said the Empress. “Hush,” I responded and then I turned and asked “May I come in for a while?”

“Sure,” she said. Hope sprung.

We entered her house and she headed off to change. “Do you need help with your dress,” I asked, playing the Fool.

“No,” she responded. “It’s a lot easier to get out of than into.”

And the Empress chuckled.

She came out of the bedroom and I wondered how it was possible for someone to look as ravishing in grey cotton jersey as she does in black silk.

She sat down upon the couch next to me and turned the television to CNN.

“Ha, I told you so,” mocked the Empress. And I knew the evening had ended.