The Client

The left stove burner was set on high and the teapot steamed and whistled. She was inside changing and getting ready for work. She couldn’t make up her mind between the purple or blue top. The purple top had a beaded V-neck; it was a soft mauve that melted in a creamy white mocha white. The blue top was a solid loud royal-blue.
“Wear the mauve,” Frederick recommended.
“Really honey, you think so?”
“Yeah, it’s calm and soothing and you said that it was an important client.”
“Yes, very important. It’s the deal of a lifetime. I can’t let it slip,” she eagerly said.
A Swedish client was planning on buying a villa on the Caribbean. She had invested all of her money to open a real-estate agency. The customer was quiet and composed but there was something mysterious and conspicuous about him. Regardless, she ignored her instinct and decided to deal with the man. He only visited her once in the States and he came along with a seductive brunette wearing tempting garments that would make perverts drool like starving hounds; yet he treated her as if the likes of her were available with amplitude in his supply:
“I am looking for a villa on the Caribbean; something low-key. Isolated. I like my privacy,” the client conditioned. “I heard that you were new. I support beginners. I figured we all have to start somewhere,” he gloomily cracked a smile.
“Well Mr. Adolf, I appreciate your business,” the real-estate agent said, “I certainly have a villa on the Caribbean; one in an isolated location. Very private. Beautiful view.”
The man was large; had blonde hair and shrewd blue eyes. He was dressed in a vintage suit; something that appeared to be custom-made. Black Armani. He wore a Rolex diamond watch. She eyed him very carefully and the man spelled seduction. Forbidden seduction; something that should not be mantled with. She restrained herself from informal curiosity but the man was unique in every manner. She faultily succumbed:
“I can’t help myself from asking what line of work are you in?” the agent said.
“I’m a freelancer; an artist. I look for the beautiful things in life,” he intentionally gave her an imprecise answer, which left her even the more curious.
“Indeed you do. A front view of the Caribbean is a very beautiful thing,” her eyes glowed. “Might I be asking: how will you be paying for all of this? It is not a small sum. Twenty five million dollars is a hefty amount of money.”
“Cash. I always let the money do the talking,” he coldly glanced in her direction.
“Will you be spending a lot of your time there Mr. Adolf?” she drilled deeper.
“Hardly any. I will be just on there for business. I stay in Europe most of the time,” he did not mind answering; it only drew her near quick-sand: “You should come see me sometime. I will always have people there; even if I’m not around.”
“I sure will. I’ll just go along with you to the bank to transit my commission, then we’ll set a date for me to come visit you,” she swallowed the bait.
“Bank? Why? I thought we agreed that I deal with cash.”
“Very well, I will meet you here on Friday. You can bring the money and I will take the owners’ share and my commission.”
“That’s more like it,” he gleamed.
The man embodied the kind of clients she wanted to deal with. She did not proceed with caution. Materialism absorbed her.
They met on an uncanny Friday at her office, and he manually counted the money in front of her. One million dollars; her share. He stacked the rubber bands in front of her and she was blinded by the green paper. Lost into calculating endless numbers. He set a date for her to come see him. New year’s. She shook his hand, looked into his frozen eyes and cracked a smile of uneasiness.
New year’s was on an ostentatious Sunday, where the sun beamed, with rays of light like a profound golden dress. She packed a suitcase of her most expensive clothing, perfumes, and a few lingeries, away from her husband’s attention. She told him that it was a business trip, routinely kissed the man goodbye and told him that she would be back within a week with uncertainty. Frederick kissed her goodbye and wished her good luck and jokingly told her not to stare at the naked women. He was a good frank man, deserving of a loyal wife.
She arrived at the client’s home. It was a large white villa, surrounded by wholesome green palm trees and had a front view of the clear azure ocean, where dolphins solemnly ruled. She was greeted by another seductive damsel and the location was scattered with beautiful women; and she thought that she was the only woman attracted to the man but it seemed like his spell bound every single woman he met. They seemed so joyous yet appeared to be as if enslaved by some mind-controlling enchantment; all in exotic and erotic garments. She felt excited and thought that the man had a large appetite and strong organs and stamina to sustain her fantasies.
She knocked on the door and yet another brunette opened the door. Wide green eyes, petite lips; and she had thought to herself that she was the only captivating she-wolf, but she was wrong. She held her breath at the sight of the countless damsels in the penthouse; some of them snorted on cocaine and some were packing it for clients. He was a drug dealer…. The door was closed and locked behind her. She snapped at the click of the lock. Her right hand holding the suitcase started shaking and she unsteadily shivered. He came out of the main bedroom which was guarded by two Great Danes; a black one and a white one, as white as the cocaine being inhaled. He wore an open black robe, and strode with a cigarette in his mouth; he slowly slithered from a distance with the same chilled orbs and he chuckled with a laugh full of contempt. A sinister laugh.
What have you gotten yourself into this time? He’s a drug dealer! “You’re a drug dealer!” she bleakly stared.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to disappoint. What? You thought it rained cash?” he smirked.
“No just ... I had a vision, of the perfect client, and you seemed to perfectly fit the profile but I guess ... I guess I was mistaken.”
“Ah well, I'm sorry to disappoint but we all have our flaws.”
He drew closer then she zoomed in on his privates:
“You’re ... you’re ... you’re castrated. You’re an eunuch,” she blabbered in shock. “No wonder all of those women; a castrated pervert that sold white dust. They worship you.” Her shacking hand dropped the suitcase.
“I was not always like this, you know. Back then, I was hired to protect the largest drug-lord in all of Europe, his wife, and his mesmerizing daughter. I loved her; she’s the beautiful one over there,” he pointed toward a pale blonde, with a red tank-top, and nude beneath, defending her portion of ecstasy with a razor. “They castrated me, robbed me of my manhood as I stood remorsefully agonizing in contempt. I had obliviously walked into a nightmare blinded by my cynical materialism. I was a fool for not obeying the only upright thing I possessed; my conscience. You should have listened to yours. You’re just like them,” he pointed toward the delirious young women. “You amount to nothing.” He petted the black Great Dane.
She stared into his cynical eyes. His eyes: clear blue, as blue as the whimsical ocean beyond the windows, as if two pearls were taken out of there and filled with loathsomeness.
“Here, have what they fed me: cow tongue and garbanzo beans. Protein. That’s good for you, you know,” he sadistically pointed to a plate of goo, in disgust.
“What would you like to drink?” a naked girl with small breasts and quarter-sized nipples asked.
“Vo ... vo ... vodka please. A glass full of vodka,” she uttered with her eyes wide open, bleakly staring at him in wondrous oblivion.
“Drink all the alcohol you please; you're in here for good. There is no way out. You walked right through; no one forced you in,” he reclined, crossing his legs on-top of the dinning-table.
“I'll give you back my commission. Just let me go. Please,” she pleaded.
“It was never about the money for me; I have it in amplitude. It came as a bonus. You gave yourself away cheaply. I observed your materialism and sized you up right away,” he massaged his temples with his free hand. “Your leave binds me. I won't go to prison for life or have my neck hanging from the noose."
“Please!” she begged, with tears of regret pouring from her eyes.
The blue-eyed demon violently drew on his cigarette while eyeing her in pity.
The left stove burner was set to high. The water came to a rolling boil and the teapot screamed and moaned. Frederick poured his green tea and sat: “I always enjoy a cup of tea,” he sipped, “I hope she's doing well. There is something uneven about that client. He sounded too good to be true. Easy money….” He sipped, closed his eyes, longed for his wife, and savored the tea.


Sherif Mohamed 2016