Amsterdam Sixty-Eight: Seductress

I woke with a groggy pot hangover. I hadn’t had one in eons. No headache, just a foggy mind and a sluggish body that did not want to move. I wanted to roll over and pull Ellie into my arms, but she wasn’t there. What time was it? I could see sun shining through the sheer white curtains, but that didn’t tell me anything other than it was far too bright to continue sleeping. I made myself get out of bed and put on the clothes I had been wearing the previous night.

I walked downstairs and headed to the bathroom. There was a god-awful noise coming from the kitchen, grinding, whirring. I closed the bathroom door, washed my face, and brushed my teeth with my finger. I thought about a shower, but that seemed like too much work. I opened the door and walked to the kitchen. El wore a snug-fitting t-shirt that went down to her waist. Her pink panties were exposed. What an ass. Her legs were sexy, too. Sprite-like.

She turned and smiled at me. “Almost ready.” I took a seat at a kitchen stool. “What’s almost ready?” She walked to me, put her arms around my waist, kissed my neck, and whispered, “Espresso. Double.” Thank god. “I might need a quadruple.” Ellie nuzzled her nose against my neck then walked back to the espresso maker. It was an expensive brand and I could smell the aroma.

El, turned to me, “I can’t believe I’m up this early.” I wished she hadn’t been. “Why are you?” She shrugged. “Not sure. Just fucking am.” That caught me by surprise. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say fuck.” She looked at me quizzically. “Is that weird?” I shook my head. “No, I guess not. It just sounded funny coming from you.” A smile and a wink. “I probably picked it up from you.” Yeah. “I say ‘fuck’ a lot, don’t I?” She nodded. “I always have. I don’t know why. Just a habit from my youth, from hanging out with a lot of guys who said fuck a lot. Maybe.”

Ellie handed me an espresso. “Careful, it’s hot.” I put it up to my nose to inhale the scent. Jesus, some relief for this fog. “Maybe ‘fuck’ is a comfort word for you.” Huh? “What do you mean?” Ellie brought the cup to her lips, tried to sip, but pulled back. Still too hot. “I mean that it helps with stress or anxiety. Maybe it keeps others from getting too close or buries your emotions.” What the fuck? Damnit, I even thought in “fucks.” I considered her words. “When did you put this hypothesis together?” Another shrug. “Just now.”

She was indeed a weird one. Crazy, but insightful. “How is it possible you’re so young?” She walked over to me, took a drink, and pressed her body against mine. “Age has nothing to do with it. I’m a genius.” Ha! “Oh, is that so?” I was genuinely amused because she was so nonchalant and sure of herself. “I am. I’m a member of Mensa. In France.” No shit. “So, that qualifies you to make an analysis of why I say fuck?” She shook her head. “No necessarily. I didn’t say it was a certainty. Thinking out loud.” Hmmm.

I was becoming more curious. “What is it about me that you like, Ellie?” She put her head on my shoulder and rubbed my chest with her hand. I took a drink of espresso. Still hot, but oh so good. “I couldn’t narrow it down to one thing. I like that you call me Ellie.” I put my hand on hers. “It’s a name that comforts you, isn’t it?” I could feel her head nodding. “You feel safe with me.” The nodding continued. “Because I’m womanly in a way that makes you feel safe?” More nodding. “Because your girlfriend fucked us in the ass with vibrators while we were having sex?”

Ellie laughed so hard she nearly spilled her espresso. She put it down and bent over, petite guffaws escaping like dry heaves from her mouth, her back arching, hands on her knees, and her body convulsing. I chuckled a little before drinking more espresso. She finally regained her composure—mostly. “You’re funny. Sensitive, too. If you had a pussy you’d be perfect.” I took that as a compliment. “I wish I had a pussy right now.” El picked up her cup and drank from it. She had a twinkle in her eye and I felt the stirrings of arousal.

“If you keep looking at me like that …” She didn’t even blink. Oh, shit. I always felt helpless when women who had emotional depth, sensuality, intelligence, and awareness looked at me that way. I felt like prey, but prey that wanted to be caught. Maybe it was an evolutionary development, a way for alpha women to attract whatever mate they wanted. Societies had gotten it wrong throughout histories; women were the sexual hunters while men had been designed to believe they were hunting—a means to keep ego intact while providing women what they needed without being the wiser. On the other hand, how did that explain homosexuality and bisexuality? It didn’t. It was an idea I had, something gleaned from Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut. I had played with the idea over time and there seemed to be something to it even if it was more complex than I could fathom. Maybe the Mensa seductress knew the answer.

El shifted her eyes and the predator disappeared … for the time being. She sighed, “I wish I didn't have to get so much done today.” Well, shit. Now I was hungry. Was this another tactic in the predator’s arsenal? Frustrate the prey so much they toss themselves at the predator's feet to be emotionally devoured then hunt for food, provide and protect, all in exchange for the elixir of feeling … wanted? No, needed! Before Kubrick introduced me to an alternative, I had been led to believe that it was women who needed to be wanted, but after careful consideration it seemed to me that it was men. Perhaps both sexes need to be wanted--or want to be needed--but in surprisingly different ways. I didn’t know, though. I was more confused than anything. Probably by design.

“Do you need any help today?” El shook her head and walked toward the bathroom. “No, but thanks. I’m going to shower.” She looked at me provocatively. “I want you to join me,” then a pout, “but I need to get going.” Hmmm. What did that mean for me? I finished my espresso and went to the couch to lie down. I was about to drift off to sleep when El emerged from the bathroom. I watched her walk naked toward the stairs and then up. I was too tired to do anything but close my eyes and replay the mental video of her walking naked up the stairs.

Eliene woke me. I didn’t want to wake up. She had been masturbating in a field of sunflowers and I was riding a tractor in circles around her. Weird, but very erotic. Who knows why we dream what we do? “I have to get going, Michael. I'll be back in a few hours. Sleep, take a shower, make lunch, whatever.” I nodded, still half asleep. I thought about the index suddenly and asked if she had a computer I could use. El went upstairs and came down with a laptop. I got up and followed her to the spare bedroom as she set it up on the desk and logged me in as a guest.

I thanked El as she was leaving. I opened my email account and downloaded the indexing document. I always uploaded and saved my work to my email account in case my computer crashed. Email worked as a perfect backup accessible from any computer. I downloaded the document and checked it out. I just needed to edit. Two hours, maybe four, then I could send it away. I needed a shower to wake up, though.

After showering I walked naked to my backpack in the living room and changed my clothes. I took out my dugout, but before I smoked I looked over at the coffee table in the living room. The bong was still there and so was the bag of weed. Why not? I put the other clothes in a zippered compartment I sometimes used for dirty laundry. I looked over at the kitchen, though, and went to the espresso machine. I had no idea how it worked so I wasn’t going to fuck with it. I saw a French press, though. I went through the process of making a cup then went to the coffee table to smoke. The coffee was still hot so I put it on a coaster while I loaded a small bud into the bowl. I didn’t need or want much, just enough to alert my thought. The pot hangover had subsided but my mind was still fuzzy. Odd that cannabis can clear the head, but that’s what smaller amounts did for me. Combined with coffee? Perfect for indexing and editing.

After I smoked I took the coffee to the desk in the spare bedroom and worked for about an hour. My stomach started rumbling so I went to the kitchen and looked for something to eat. The only items I found required real cooking and I didn’t feel like that. I saw a cereal box in a cupboard and took the almond milk out of the fridge, sitting at the dining table to eat. I had nothing on my mind at all as I scooped, chewed, and swallowed. Mindless. Emotionless. When I finished the bowl I woke up, surprised not that I was done, but that I was awake. I wasn’t sure where I had gone, but I felt rested. I was still a little hungry so I poured another bowl.

As I ate I looked around, realizing that I was in someone else’s apartment. This struck me as odd, being left alone in an apartment that wasn’t mine by a person who barely knew me--although Ellie seemed to see right through me. I liked it. In a way, I thought it was fucked up that most people lacked this level of trust in one another. Despite my recent bout with sorrow and pain, I was still living in my body. It seemed less and less that “home” existed somewhere where my body wasn’t. My sense of property as a concept continued to erode. There were spaces, but not property. Space was a natural, physical term; property was legal, abstract, arbitrary (and absurd). I let my mind go again and continued eating.

I cleaned up afterward then put the cereal and milk away. I walked into the spare and sat at the desk, editing the index again. After an hour I got up to take another hit from the bong. As I blew out the smoke I thought that the world seemed plentiful. Well, Amsterdam at least. I resisted the urge to believe myself special in any way; this was just the way things were here. Because the masks being worn were so porous and the walls were so much lower, making connections simply required doing the same while wandering to and fro in public. Once connections were made, there was intimacy between those connected. Ellie’s emotions were easily accessible. As much as I had lowered my walls, though, they still were higher than my counterparts in Amsterdam. None of these thoughts were new, but they struck me from time to time and every time they did I realized that I had become immersed enough to forget that these recent happenings had been rare during my life in the United States. America would probably be similar to Amsterdam if about ninety percent of the public disappeared. I couldn't really put an exact percentage on such a thing, but one out of every ten Americans being truly open to one another seemed like a generous estimate.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and went back to work. Within an hour I finished the edit, made an invoice, and emailed them to the publisher. I deleted the copy I had downloaded onto El’s laptop. I was about to shut down the computer, but I saw a new message in my inbox from Sterre. I froze. I didn’t want to open it and felt guilt rising up within me. I didn’t know what to expect and I was enjoying my time with Ellie. I decided not to read it, not yet, so I shut down the computer and went to the living room to stretch. When I was done stretching I went back to the couch to lie down. It was after noon and I was tired. I let myself fall asleep while El was out and about.

Eliene woke me when she returned and said, “Get up, sleepyhead. I got Thai.” I shook myself awake and followed Eliene into the kitchen. Spiced Thai noodles in a container. I sat down, grabbed the chopsticks, and started eating. After a few bites I felt human and I thanked Ellie. “I thought you might be hungry. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to cook.” There was a glass of water in front of me and I drank from it. El made me feel at home. She was so casual about it, almost like a lifelong friend or a sister. What the fuck did I know about having a sister, though? I imagined this is what a sister might do for her sleepy brother, though. I smiled at her even though she wasn’t looking at me. “You’re generous and kind, Ellie. I'm happy being with you.” El shrugged and continued eating. She was who she was.

“What time is it?” Eliene said it was after six. Damn, I slept most of the day. “So what’s going on tonight?” She looked up at me with a noodle dangling between her lips. It quickly slithered out of sight into her mouth. “I don’t know. I don’t want to go out. I’d just get in trouble--two nights in a row? That's pushing it.” She laughed and continued, “I'd lose you in an hour and wind up somewhere I've never been.” I thought about that and asked if that happened when she went out with Auriana. “No. We usually go somewhere specific together and I’m more aware that I’m with her. She’s the only person who can do that.” I said, “You don’t know what would happen with me, though.” She took another bite then said, “True, but why take the chance? Besides, I have a few ideas about tonight. We don’t need to go anywhere.” She looked down, smiling beguilingly, and took another bite.

When she looked up to take a drink of water she gazed into my eyes enticingly. The predator was back and I instantly felt the way I had earlier, eager to become prey. I tried to think about the dynamic, but I wasn't capable of thinking while she had me in her sights. That was just it; her eyes penetrated every defense and broke through the mask. She possessed me. It wasn’t so much that I was giving myself over to her, but that I had no means to resist—that and I didn’t want to resist! I sighed, resigned and dreamy.

Ellie giggled and shook her head. “You’re like a puppy. I think I’m your owner and you’re my dog; it’s the same thing with Auriana, but it’s the other way around. I’m not used to being on this end!” I knew my end all too well. I managed to replied, “You’re not the only woman who has done this to me. I can’t help it. I don’t know if it’s something specific within me or if it’s just that I meet captivating women. It’s the way you look at me. That and your the body language. You become irresistible.” I sighed and shook my head, forcing myself to look away so I could catch my breath. “I'm attracted to most women, but very few turn me to jelly. But you?” I looked at her again and felt her magnetism. “The force is strong in you, little one.” We both laughed. Ellie said, “A strange one you are. Teach you I must.” Ellie Yoda.

I helped El clean up after we ate. As we did so, I asked her what she did during the day. “Groceries and some other stuff.” Other stuff. Okay. “Did you have any problems while you were out?” She looked at me like I was crazy. “What do you mean?” I replied, “Well, you said you get in trouble when you go out alone.” She nodded and said, “Oh, no. I don’t have that problem during the day, especially if I have errands, shopping and whatnot.” Whatnot? Stuff? Purposeful vagueness or just no desire to get into mundane exercises?

After we cleaned up we went into the living room. As I sat on the couch, I looked at the bong and thought smoking might be a good idea. Apparently, El read my mind because she said, “We’ll smoke, but I picked up something I want you to try.” I was intrigued. “And that is?” She got up to get her backpack and brought it over to the couch. “Have you ever smoked DMT?” I shook my head. “I’ve never even heard of it.” She asked if I had heard of ayahuasca? I said yes, but I didn’t know too much about it. “DMT is the active ingredient. It exists in many plants and naturally in our brains, in the pineal gland. The chemical is released during sleep. Your dreams are literally made of this substance. It’s a hallucinogen like psilocybin and LSD.” Well, that explained why dreams were so fucking weird.

“I shroom a hell of a lot, Ellie, several times each week. Not sure if you told you that. I did plenty of LSD when I was younger, too.” Eliene, took my hand and said, “DMT is different. Its effects are far more potent and much different than shrooms and acid. As otherworldly as those substances can be, DMT is on another plane. It’s spiritual, but something other than spirituality as society typically conceives of it. I can’t explain it. The only way you'll understand is to try it.” I said, “So, we’re going to take DMT tonight?” Ellie nodded. “Not at the same time, though.” Huh? “In case you have a bad trip. The effects don’t last long, though, maybe five or six minutes depending on how much you smoke. But time is not … I don’t know how to say it. Time as you know it disappears. I know that happens with acid, too, but not like this. I guarantee that you won’t 'come back' thinking only six minutes have passed.” She paused and looked at me with a profound seriousness. “This is not a recreational substance. You will change. Permanently. You'll look the same, you'll exist here and now, but your consciousness will be different. You’ll still be you, with all your memories and you'll experience thoughts and emotions you have throughout your life, but you're capacity to perceive and understand will expand. You'll be able to think in new ways, to experience living differently. If all goes well, you'll become free to choose; you can choose to return to your old habits of thinking and acting or you can choose to discover what has been dormant within you.”

Wow. I didn’t really know what to think, but I wanted to give it a try. It seemed to fit into my process of self-exploration, my vision quest. She made it sound as if I would be taking a thousand doses of shrooms. Odd, though, to be introduced to another means to that end from El. I had to accept that the world had pockets of weird and I chose one of the best places in the world to become fully immersed in weirdness. “So, when are we going to do this? Or I guess I should ask when am I going to do this.” El put some pot in the bowl of the bong then pulled out the powder I assumed was DMT. She sprinkled a healthy amount on the sweet leaf. “The taste of DMT is nasty. Weed makes it a little better.”

I was ready to smoke, but Eliene suggested I use the bathroom and that I relax, clear my head, and settle into calmness. “Meditation might help.” I went to the bathroom then washed my face and dried before returning to the living room. “Before you relax I want to let you know that the best thing to do after smoking is to lie down on the couch and close your eyes to wait for the effects. Just breathe calmly, regularly, and let go.” She smiled serenely and I smiled back. “Why are you doing this for me, Ellie?” She looked down at the bowl then compassionately at me. “To help you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. Yes, she was intelligent and insightful, but how much of me was she seeing? I didn't want to think about that, though. I pulled my legs up onto the couch and leaned back, clearing my mind, focusing on my breath, enjoying the bodily sensation of being relaxed, of being in the presence of a woman who expressed and demonstrated care for me. A loving gift.

I opened my eyes and looked at Ellie. She motioned to the bong. I picked up the Zippo and the bong then lit up. When I released the carb the smoke filled my lungs. The taste was not pleasant. I held it, though, then exhaled. I looked at El again. She nodded her head so I took another hit. As I exhaled she took the bong and the lighter from me. I could feel a little of the pot hitting me, but that was all. I heard El’s voice echoing. “You might want to lie down now. It may not take long for the effects.” I did as she suggested, placing my head on a cushion. She rose from the end of the couch so I could extend my legs. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here.” I closed my eyes and waited.