:Appetite for Enigma:



When men are boring, he appears in the picture

With his mental riddles and erratic childish displays

He loves me not in the way I want but in the only way he could

He is dangerous when safe

He is my autistic charmer L Lawliet.

-A Cooper Prose-


Lectures on bar with cake

I walked to him with all the courage I mastered within myself. It's been half an hour since I've been pulled to him and I keep longing for the chance to approach him to tell him that he is all I want. It was a preposterous state of mind but I let it take over me. I took immense pleasure watching in the corner unnoticed but one must not indulge in such terrible fantasy without acknowledging the great possibilities of reality. So with an enthusiasm I only get when I'm absolutely turned on, I walked towards his place, my eyes not wandering from other male companions. I wasn't altogether confident but there's something strangely attractive about him and I, myself, felt lucky that I found him first. Indeed this is true since I seemed to be the only girl in the bar who paid the slightest bit of attention to him. Describing him as odd isn't enough. He was no ordinary person and as I got closer, my observations from afar have been correct all along.

He was pale as a ghost. That's exactly how you could describe his complexion. His skin was pasty white and smooth. He has these large dark eyes with shadowy circles under them indicating that he might be insomniac. His hair was more than just unkempt and unruly, but rather it was a big mess, as if it went uncombed for years. He looks unsanitary for those reasons given. I was still wondering why I was attracted to him and then I saw him eat. Yes, it was a fascinating sight. He held things by the tips of his fingers, the index and the thumb. He mixed his coffee holding the spoon that way. I also noticed the amount of sugar cubes he placed in his drink, maybe a dozen of them. He was also surrounded with three samples of cake, three slices each. I was astounded at this because if a person consumes such high levels of glucose then he might as well be a diabetic or morbidly obese. But this man was skinny and gaunt, almost languid in the way his hands and body moved. He sat with his feet on top of the chair, his knees pressing against his chin. He sat like that since I started watching him and I wondered how he retained such a convoluted position.

I was really drawn to him. I get the feeling he was different from all the muscle-headed, testosterone masochists I meet in the bar scene for almost two months now. He's a peculiar character therefore he's sure to be interesting.

So here I am, approaching him intently. I wondered what could be the best pick-up line to use but since I have what you can call a blatantly spontaneous sensual appeal, I decided to go straight to my point.

"I love the way you lick your spoon," was the statement that came out of my mouth. Before I have the impulse to beat my head against the table in front of me, he looked at me with those pools of dark ink and continued biting on his spoon like an innocent child.

"I suppose that you haven't enjoyed a slice of blueberry cheesecake if that's the case. Anybody who has tasted a slice will find the urge of licking the spoon as you pointed out." He said with a deep, polite voice that was surprising for his appearance. His gestures were that of a real gentleman of the highest breeding; a mix of street punk and corporate working man. It was such a conflicting combination of personalities and gait that I was inclined to sit across from him. His eyes remained on me the whole time, waiting for me to lay down my intentions.

"I think you're cute," I said again with a shy smile, debating whether I will come out strong and handle the business with a seductive charm, or play it cool, like a curious girl engaging in platonic flirtation.

"Thank you," he courteously replied, taking another bite from his cake, eyes still fixed upon me with such placidity.

"Do you mind if I chat with you?"

"Just as long as you do not bore me."

"Then we don't have a problem." I began, "You strike me as the type of man who only came here for his sweets and not to encourage a one-night stand with a complete stranger. You're not in a relationship but could enjoy female company if you'll be allowed to. You have an impressive breeding and have a casual way through conversations, making it interesting for yourself as well as the one you are speaking to. My name is Francesca."

I extended my hand, surprised on how coolly I relayed my hour-long observations about him. He took my hand and shook it feebly. Then he put down his spoon and proceeded biting his thumb instead. I seemed to be successful in catching his attention.

"You're quite clever for your age," he said after a long period of silence. "You are, I believe, to be only seventeen but with the way you carry yourself, you might seem older and experienced. Boys your age bore you and so you look for excitement in the places you shouldn't go."

"You're not only cute but you seem to possess an intelligence that I rarely find in men these days," I beamed at him. "I think I would be pleased to be acquainted with you. But tell me, what is your name?"

"L." He replied, slicing his cake with the fork and eating it wholeheartedly.

"Like the letter?"


"You're puzzling," I giggled. "If I may be bold to say, I think I want to try you."

His eyes rounded of mocked, mild curiosity but I can tell he's conniving and sharp as a blade. "I wish you not to leave me with a vague impression, but did you just ask me to stay with you longer than is expected?"


"You told me that I have a particular dislike for one-night stands and you're correct about that assumption," he said, putting his index finger just slightly between his lips, eyes now glistening in anticipation. "In addition to that, you're a minor and I am in my twenties which would make our rendezvous a line not to be crossed."

"I always wanted to know what's on the other side," I teased, smiling comfortably at him. "And you seem to be just the man who could allow me to explore."

"You're mistaken with that," he sipped his coffee, eyeing the hot substance with a steady stare. "But since you're amusing me greatly, I will let you play your games with me and will not mind."

"I do ask that you participate in these games you say I'm playing."

"Most certainly if it entertains me."

I stood up and walked outside without saying a word. I stayed there for almost five minutes, patiently waiting without a single trace of doubt he will not turn me down. And I was lucky again because he came out minutes after, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt that revealed his scrawny figure. He wore untied rubber shoes. He hunched as he walked towards me, movements seemingly sluggish but his gaze was shockingly intense.

"I expect a good reason that you brought me here," his voice was deep and engaging but his face was devoid of all emotion. I leaned closer to him and pressed my lips against his unresponsive mouth. I pulled away seconds after and smiled at him.

"I only have good intentions," I said softly. "But have nasty actions to show them."

He was pleased with that as he continued to look at me blankly. His body language was easier to read now. When he tries to hide his facial reaction, I know I plucked a string inside him and I was playing my cards right. I walked away from him again and he followed soon after. I stopped at a corner rarely touched by the street lamp's light.

"L," I said his name in a sultry manner. "Why don't you come here and I will tell you a secret."

He willingly walked towards me, our shadows not even visible because of the absence of illumination. Through the darkness I could still see those hazy ebony eyes piercing me, reading me like an open book.

I placed my arms around his waist and he didn't object to that. I said against his lips, "I'm simple-minded. All I want is games and get what I want in the end."

He chuckled at that to my surprise. When I pressed my lips again to his, I was also surprised that he met it with eagerness. His lips were dry but warm, scalding my brainwaves in a violent fervor of flame. I held onto him. His hands remained at his pockets and I could tell his eyes were open, regarding me curiously.

I pulled his body against mine as tightly as I could, closing the final space between us. When I parted my lips slightly to allow my tongue to lick his lips, he parted his own as well, waiting for my tongue to just slip through into his mouth. And then when our tongues met in a breathless encounter, my whole body exploded from the sensation. We kissed gently and slowly, tasting every corner, sucking each other's air just for the sake of it. His saliva tasted sweet and sticky and I could taste the flavor of the cake he has recently eaten.

He drew his mouth away and spoke with a clear voice that cut through the oblivion. "You're not of simple mind. Your games are worth playing as well."

I knew I've won. The victory was mine and I earned it.

He pulled himself away from me completely.

"L," I inquired. "I can tell that this will only be the first time. There will be many more to come."

"Yes," he answered, scratching his head lazily. "This is the start of many promising things in the future. Consider it a commencement to our rendezvous."

"And here I thought we won't cross the line," I smiled wickedly.

Even in the darkness I could tell he smiled too, "Young lady, when you turn eighteen, we shall talk about crossing the line."

We walked back to the bar together, sitting at same table. He ordered more cakes. I decided to allow myself this sweet treat. I sat opposite him, maintaining my cool composure. He was listening attentively to my stories about my life as a freshman college student as he ate his cake without saying a word. When I was discussing the boy I'm sleeping with for almost two weeks without any kind of relationship, L took a slice from my own plate and put it inside his mouth. He chewed on it slowly while keeping his eyes on me the whole time.

"By any means, you did break it off with him, didn't you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Mostly, he just comes by when he wants sex, then doesn't call me or meet me after that. I guess he only comes to me when he needs it."

"You let yourself be used like that because you are bored."

I smiled. He was free of all the worthless machismo and arrogant judgments. He didn't tell me I was a pathetic whore or degrade me in any way. He simply proposed the idea of boredom in my situation and to which I was forced to ease it by occasional doses of sexual deviancy. I really love the inner workings of this man's mind.

"Yes," I replied, eating a slice of cake. "I was quite bored."

"Boredom is an enemy of those who seek mental approval." L said, biting the spoon between his teeth in an absentminded fashion. "The medicine has not been found to fully cure it but there are therapies of the body that tone it down a bit."

"Therapies of the body?" I teased. He smiled slightly at that, eyes still hollow and blank.

"You find a way to insert innuendoes into our conversation," he remarked. "It is quite fascinating how you do it."

I laughed. "You are begging to be fascinated so I couldn't resist the challenge."

"Humor me, young lady."

He called me 'young lady' so many times now that I found it pretty irritating. I went on to do what he asked, however improbable it was.

"Have you slept with anyone in your entire life?" I asked in a whisper, leaning myself a little closer.

He stared and said. "It really is none of your business."

"Do tell," I teased some more. "Since you now have a clear picture of me and I'm very sure that I do not bore you, in what principle would you hold the information back?"

"A principle called 'none of your business.'"

I gave another try, "Would it hurt you to answer a 'yes' or 'no' to that question, L?"

"The question is hardly important," he went on. "What is important to me is your intention for asking. As you said to me before, you have ulterior motives under your sleeves all the time. The circumstances leading to that conclusion would be the fact that you approached me and blatantly proclaimed that you wanted me to have sex with you. When I declined your generous offer, you resorted to the option of kissing you. And after you acquired that, you sit here and eat my cakes and then you make me listen to your teenage drama. When you think you have me wrapped around your finger, you threw a random personal question, hoping you could figure me out."

L played with his coffee by putting more sugar cubes in it. "Yet you also know that I will discover you and catch you red-handed. You couldn't resist the challenge and that is the very reason why you asked that question anyway."

I stayed quiet for a while and then I said, "It's just a yes-no question. And I am not that complicated. I'm a simple mind."

He looked at me sharply. "Don't insult your intellectual faculties. That is the very reason why I agreed on kissing you. I don't kiss a woman whose mental state is that of idiocy. I kissed you for the sole reason that you're a woman of substance. I kissed you because you didn't show me you're some dumb bimbo who wants a mere moment of carnal gratification. You showed me that you plan to play a game with me and you want to win it."

I tried to hide the fact that I was flattered and said, "And your answer to my earlier question, L?"

"The answer, young lady, is no."

He enjoyed that. He liked the fact that he taunted me with all that overwhelming deduction. I found myself caught up in hating this man for his guts. I have never been so embarrassed that he saw right through my act. But I was relieved that I found a formidable playmate.

"Now let us go back to the topic at hand," he said, finishing his cake. "You have a sexual partner who believed he was the one in control when in reality you're the one who has the strings attached."

"That's a good way to put it," I smiled. "But don't you think I am the one who is victimized here?"

"You wanted to be victimized."

"I beg your pardon?"

L's eyes glistened once again. "Like you said before, you're bored. We both know that to you, having a meaningless act of sex is a way to escape boredom. So you practically allowed him to use you although you're the one getting the most pleasure by watching him think he gets the pleasure. It is an entertaining display of power, young lady."

"So you are attracted to me because I'm the devilish kind?"

L chuckled at that and pondered for a moment before responding, "The world is tainted with fools and their technology. They're mindless and relentlessly stupid. They like the comfort of their bodies and they forget that to people like us, ultimate orgasm is rare. An orgasmic moment to us is, by our own definition, finding the right combination of mental strategies to reach the climax of sexual needs."

"You're telling me that you will fuck a woman for her?" I laughed at that but it made painful sense.

"And you do not think so?" he spread his hands apart in a dramatic gesture. "Would it not turn you on to find a partner that perceives your actions and processes them as a way that he or she could communicate with you on levels of ruthless synchronization?"

"But you forget one thing," I leaned against the table and raised an eyebrow, "Sex is not a perfection of technique but rather an expression of desire."

"There is that logic," he just wouldn't give up. "Examine it with careful ease though, young lady. Sex is a glorious act of unifying two vessels into one. It is fornication. It is essential to human life and energy. But how could you reach the orgasm that your body badly needs when your mind refuses to cooperate to reach that goal? Mental orgasm is quite, at the very least, the most important type of all."

I couldn't help but grin. His intellect turns me on far more than any type of man who works out to improve his muscle structure.

L went on, ignoring the fact that he was lecturing to the whole bar now, and that people are listening to every word that he was saying, even those brain dead D-cup girls who can't comprehend.

"Sex is indeed an expression of desire!" he stood up now, looking down at me with enthusiasm. "Sex is a perfection of technique as well! Just think about it, young lady: two bodies in that simultaneous explosion of passion; their bodies and minds one with the other. They've expressed their desire and with that they have perfected the most difficult technique. They've became lost in the moment they forgot that what they did was nothing but a chore. It was meaningful and the molecules of their beings found benefits from it but nonetheless, they saw it as a simple chore. That's how ignorant human beings are to be given with such a gift."

"So you believe then, my fine gentleman, that love is chemistry, not just a feeling." I challenged.

"Love is not a simple matter," he sat in his weird position again. "If you will listen a little more, then I'll tell you this: Love is only found by those who seek the best kind there is. If you settle for the weak slob passing by, or accept the dreary moment that you're okay with the least available goods in the market, then it is your loss!"

I leaned closer, almost knocking down the mug in front of me. This is beginning to get better than I expected. "Then what about those who claim that it is love at first sight?"

L looked up dreamily and then looked back at me with the same intensity in his gaunt features. "I actually believe in that theory."

"You believe in soul mates?"

"I believe we truly love someone for only once in our life span."

I thought about that and then asked. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"No," he replied immediately, looking deeply into me and smiling genuinely in his catlike fashion. "Young lady, I thank you for this wonderful dinner we've shared."

"I hardly call it dinner."

"Though it was enjoyable."

"And commendable for all the unexplained reasons."

He extended his hand this time, smiling catlike, the light from above us reflected in his eyes. I was drawn and pulled to him like gravity. It was a sickening feeling. It was wonderful.

I remained standing there, lost in the moment, and he chuckled and told me in a hushed voice, "We reached the same level of mental orgasm, did we not?"

I blushed at that remark and then I let out a comfortable smile myself. The people in the bar were still listening to our conversation although I could tell from their faces that our language differed from their own.

"Yes," I finally wrapped my fingers around his hand to shake firmly as I kept our eyes locked. "This is the best sex I've ever had."