Exit Sexual Sparkle

Walking in front of me in the autumn sunshine, a young couple. He of nondescript looks and nondescript clothes. Holding his arm, a leggy raven-haired stunner. She more interested in him than he in her. But the interest having the character of need rather than desire. Meanwhile, his movements and demeanor being those of someone noticing her hardly at all and when occasionally doing so being slightly annoyed.

Following the couple, passing the shop I’d planned to go into, but too interested to bother with that, the passing street parade taking precedence. Studying their unhurried progress, spinning scenarios. Rich guy and gold-digger? Possible, but not ringing true somehow. A false note somewhere, yes, that’s it, they’re not interested in display, they don’t care who notices them, it’s not about wealth.

So what then? Following them, discreetly studying. God she’s beautiful, I don’t know how he can keep his eyes off her, I certainly can’t.

Eventually, understanding. Ah, how slow of me. He’s her dealer, he owns her somehow, she’s probably only of interest to him to use or to sell.

The insight accompanied by a sense of deflation. Enter drugs, exit sexual sparkle. Even recreational drugs. Like my Russian ballerina in Battersea, we met up again, long after she’d first suddenly disappeared. The pleasure of seeing her again, and the physical desire, overwhelming. Brain disconnecting. Immediately and totally in love, thinking, this time she’ll stay.

Only later recognizing her Russian genius, presenting the beautiful blank screen on which you script your own fantasy. She remaining blank throughout. Never stating her requirements, high amongst which, you supply the requisite. Me, I was only interested in her. She, she was only interested in me, as long as the me included the means of sniffing or popping or smoking or other suchlike. Me, in such things, an ingénue. Spotted by her within a day. She’d already left, wrenching my heart, by the time I figured it out.

And that slightly blank look. Not addled or crazed, just slightly not all there. That’s the trouble with drugtakers, everything else in their lives is just marking time. Like the couple in front. Same slightly blank look on her face, her body is just a optional extra, thrown in for free as long as she can get the requisite.