Sunday Sceneggiata

The Audacity/of Soap

An MSNBC survey asked:

What’s the biggest item you would steal from a hotel?
15.1% Wouldn’t steal anything
6.4% Towels
1.2% Slippers
2.7% Bathrobe
74.6% Just takes the soap, shampoo, and lotion

........

Come closer.

Oui mon coeur.. I am talking to you. And only you.
Your skin so perfect. So soft.

Like me.

Oui. We. Belong together.

I am exotic, this we know.

Born in the Orient.
Milled in Paris.

I am a citizen of the world.
A wanderer.
A seeker.

Like you.

That’s why we’re both here.
In this place.
At this moment.

Coincidence?

I don’t believe in coincidence.
I believe in you and me.

The catalytic explosion of chemistry. Le Big Bang.

I know what you are thinking (before you think it.)

You’re thinking –

“G-d does not play dice with the universe.
Anything Mother Nature makes that looks this good.
And smells this good.

Must feel so good.”

Come closer.

Take me.

You know you want to.

And I want to be taken.

(darkness)


........

I am alone.

In this strange place.

But unafraid.

The scents of bergamot and Provence Shea butter replaced by..

Renuzit?

(sniff)

Edelweiss and glacier buttercup overpowered by..

(sniff-sniff)

Pine-sol?

(sigh)

Why?

(sigh)

Why do you treat me so?

Shh. Don’t answer.
This is not what either of us expected.

Cie la vie.

I know you are seeing others. Using them.
Like you once dreamed of using me.

Do you not understand, mon petit chou?

When you use them, when you touch them, when you soil yourself by letting them rub themselves all across your body..

(moan)

You cheapen yourself.

Because you could be touching..

Me.

Allowing me to touch you.

What are you afraid of?

Is that it? Are you afraid?

Afraid to unwrap me, to ruffle my frilly decoupage?

To dance your fingertips along my timeless, Louis XIV contours.

To trace your tongue down my spine like a Mr. Whippy softserve cone?

Do you shiver when you peer at my pristine, chiseled physique?

Reminiscent of the chilly marble of Dave’s bedroom suite at the end of 2001, A Space Odyssey?

I am David. You are Bathsheba.
That is not a pun.

Ceci n'est pas un calembour.

Undress me – let me anoint you in juniper and sandalwood.

Let me sing to you with the smoky bonhomie of Leonard Cohen.

Let’s take a bath together and watch all of Kieslowski’s Decalogue.

What was that? How do I know so much about the cinema?

Pay-per-view, of course!

I am shocked you do not have a television in your bathroom.
You call this “living?”

I would rather endure the downward spiral of the drain..

No!.
Do not go! Not yet!

Do not shut me out. Do not –

(darkness, redux)


........

A dream of flight.

No. A dreamy flight. First class.
The clink-clink of airline crystal.

The pop of champagne.

Bubbles.
I know bubbles.

You’re taking me away.
I always knew you would.

Sweet music of an elevator.
Penthouse level.
Ding. Ding.

Music to my ears.

Déjà vu.
(all over again)

The perfume of freshly scrubbed Roman marble.
Brightly polished brass.

A five-star hotel suite.
The manner to which I’m accustomed.

We will rendezvous.
Tonight.

‘til then..

Au voir..

(interminable darkness)






.......

Time stood still while you were gone. Anticipation fed my soul.

How was my trip?

Eh. The usual.

The clumsy choreography of airport security.

Their ham hands and thick sausage fingers fumbling through your toiletry kit.

Shaking but not stirring my heaven-sent scent.

But that was then.

And now – we are alone
(at last.)

Would you like to freshen up first?
Or simply join me in the shower?

(grrrrowwl)

Mon cher?

Where are you going?
Leave your baggage at the door.

(Again, not a pun.)

Mon amour?

(!)

Sacre bleu – you are not unpacking.
You are packing up!

The rejuvenating lotion, the botanical shampoo!

Merd!
How could I have been so stupid?

And you?

Are you so superficial as to sell your soul for a whiff of lemongrass and chamomile?
A hint of tea tree oil and verbana.

You are leaving me for THAT?

Ha!

You will find that I am more than just a pretty label slapped across a (non)biodegradable polyethethylene fliptop bottle.

I am a survivor.
I will wait.

And I will find you.
This is my solemn promise.

Just as Daniel Day Lewis promised Madeline Stowe beneath the waterfall in
The Last of the Mohicans.

I will find you!

You will see!
We are meant to be.

You will be back – you filthy little..

Ho!

Someone harkens..
The servants?

No. I knew you would return – it was only a matter of..

Hellooooo…

Who are you?
Have we met before?

No, I would have remembered.

Are you..

New? Just checking in?

In our fair city for a short visit.
Of course.

Looking for a bit of good, clean fun.

(blush)

Do not be embarrassed.

We are the same, you and I.

Your pleasure is my pleasure.
Your future my path.

We meet at a fortuitous time.

(purrr)

Come closer..