Temptresses are a dime-a-dozen

Dream Dangler

"I'm so mad at The Jerk!", Trish exclaims one evening.
"Huh?"
"The jerk! My Ex! El Stinko!", Trish croaks. "I was supposed to get my money last week - LAST WEEK, mind you! Well, this weekend, I called my detective agency and got them on the case. And ya know where he is?"
Anne stares.
"Wales! Of all places! If he thinks he's gonna skip out on me...We know his address now, and know that he HAS to come back on a plane either Saturday or Sunday. I'll be there, both days, waiting! My lawyer says -if I don't get the money out of him and he flees again, we can get a bench warrent on him; the moment he sets foot in this country - wham, bam, it's the slammer, damn you, until you pay up!"

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The next week, Trish appears in her usual attire - one of her exotic dark purple hats, with feathers sewn along the brim, a bit of "character" bought from a vintage boutique. She struts in her high heels and a short skirt clings tightly to her thighs. "You gotta show them some leg," she says. "Don't do the breast thing, that's too much, distracts them too much. When you do business with them, you want to keep their minds on business, but also keep them a bit disoriented. Get their hormones going a little, but not too much - then they play right into your hands; you've got them like putty". The world's top 10 temptresses spritz themselves with only a subliminal scent of musk.

"Well, the Jerk came through," she announces. "Caught him at the airport, was right by the door when he de-planed. Handed him the papers and dragged him to the lawyer's office. Signed everything - everything! He knows I mean business and that I won't give in -"

"Right, tracking him to the airport and all that, " Anne mumbles, "He's got a tough adversary; easier to give in than fight, sometimes."

"And he gave in on everything. This divorce'll be a breeze".

Anne merely nods and squints at the buses lined up behind the red light, looking for #61. Tiers of tiny windowlights twinkle from the highrises. The windows at street level glow golden, each vendor hawking a dream. Dine here and imagine yourself lady of the manor, doted on by attentive, efficient waiters trained since birth in the art of servitude. Wear this sleek red dress; buxom Brunnhilde becomes willowy Scarlett for a mere $99, without spending years in plastic surgery, charm school and psychotherapy sessions. One benefit of aging, Anne thinks, is that you're not expected to go gaga over every new fashion, not expected to play seductress - a relief to the world's wallflowers and to those who prefer serenity over power plays.
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The next week, Trish raves about astrology, and how it can be used to manipulate men. Using astrology, she's ensnared the best men in the city - a master photographer whom she hopes to make her new "mentor", and an entrepreneur whom she's "shown a lot of leg" and who now has her in on the wheelings and dealings for opening a new tavern. She met her latest heart-throb "Allen" on one of her freelance photographic assignments. "Allen's drop dead gorgeous", she proclaims; when she rode in the elevator with him, her eyes were rivetted on his cascading black curls, his fathomless black eyes, his jutting cheekbones. And, she adds, "He has a cute ass and knows it....Just watch him parade around the room - a model's strut."

"He's gotta be a Scorpio," she asserts, "With those intense eyes, nothing else. And I KNOW how to handle Scorpios; it's all layed out, strategy by strategy, in 'Love And the Stars'. I tell you, if word about that book got out, this planet would be chaos - everyone knowing too much about how to handle everyone else. That book's a real treasure; good thing it's not well publicized...Anyway, I tested out the chapter on Scorpios - winked at him when he was looking really intense; he got all bent out of shape, did one of those dance-in-place routines, a sure sign of a Scorpio. But, wow, was he ever cute when he did his dance! So now, I'm just following the book, working my star magic and reeling him in, little by little."

"Looks like he's already reeled YOU in," Anne chuckles, "You were sold on him when you saw his eyes"

"I'm sold on the book," Paula asserts. "Like with Dale - the guy who's opening the bar - the minute I saw that mane of curly yellow hair, I thought 'That guy's got Leo in him big time'. All Leos are actors of some sort. It's a fire sign, they're hot, make themselves seen"

"Well, I don't make myself seen and I'm a Leo," Anne comments, "Most people don't notice me. I'm invisible. And my hair - well, that's probably genetics. My mother, my grandmother - they all have this kind of hair"

"No, not just genetics, it's also the lion at work. You may not think you're seen, but you are seen. Leos have to be seen, find ways to be seen. The way to get along with Leos is to applaud them, feed them praise, a morsel at a time. Like Dale...When he's angry or down, I just feed him something for his self confidence and he perks right up, gets all golden and smiley again; the roar and sulking turn into a purr. That's the Leo. I just toss him tidbits of praise and now he's panting after me like a puppy".

"Interesting," Anne drawls. "But what about the smart guys, who figure out what you're doing? Maybe they just play along to see where the game's going. And what - uh, in every mugshot, I look like either a paid killer or an inmate at the funny farm. What if guys take one look, and run?"

"Not a problem when you know the moon sign, the rising sign, which planets are in which houses. That tells you about the deeper parts of their character, what really drives them. When you know that, you can be subtle. I can lend you the book, let you study it. You'll see, it works. Even the bearded lady can get a guy."

Anne shakes her head. "No, I'm busy right now, a lot of work I have to take home. Maybe some other time". One benefit of aging, Anne thinks, is freedom from shame and the need for pretense, freedom from the need to fake being tempted by the flesh; no one expects old shrivel-face to ogle the guys. Even if Anne, with just a few crow's feet on her lean mean assassin face, caught a guy, what would she do with him? Would she have to feed him? Listen for hours as he repeatedly asked "Do you love me? Do you really really love me? What do you love about me, oh please please tell?"? Answer to the call of his latest whim, just when she was beginning to feel settled? Relationships might be touted as the best thing since the invention of champagne, but Anne isn't tempted by all the hype.

A bus hisses to a stop. Trish, going places and with men to conquer, leaps aboard. Anne gazes up at the siloetted skyscrapers in this city of a million temptresses and ten thousand shops selling temptations. On this street, where everyone's a seller of dreams and sold on a dream, she waits for the #61.