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No ring of mystical light encircled Saxon's head, and he did not lift off pavement and fly about her head as a sprite; but his words continued in calm, resonant flow. He continued to speak of Melody as if she were known to him from the beginning of time.
Melody would become the First Empress of The Pacific Rim Emirates and change the history of the world, Saxon professed. They attended his words, for they could see that he was sincere. Drawing useful assumptions from his discourse, however, was problematic for Pyotr and LinLu and beyond comprehension for Melody; moreover, the pragmatic Melody considered the Saxon cop to be either desperately in need of her sexual services or simply drunk.
To the contrary, LinLu's estimate and evaluations were strengthening her determination to prompt Pyotr to score music and The Producer to find a suitable tale to include the blond giant in The Golden Gate Performance Art Fucking Ensemble.
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"In the last fateful days of Camelot when The Queen's betrayal of King Arthur had weakened the Kingdom, the great magician known to history as Merlin compiled a 'Book of Infinite Anticipations and Outcomes' containing all of the formulae for scientific prestidigitation and metaphorical incantations. All of the ingredients for ultimate sexual experience, the conventional wisdom of all kingdoms, also were in Fulcanelli's manual, every element required to 'direct the course of history within specified human horizons.' Melody, the attorney, is inconsequential; but in her character as Master Fucker of The Realm, Melody is fated."
Pyotr shuddered under the burden of the implications. LinLu dismissed the Saxon's visions and returned to her cello.
Melody shrugged and peered at her watch.
Once more, protesting that she would be late for Ginburger's Soiree, Melody proposed that she meet the Saxon at his bedchamber after the Soiree. Guse quickly accepted her proposal when the Saxon reluctantly declined.
"Where do you sleep?" Melody asked Guse with thin patience. His description of his bedding arrangements in the loft of a candy kitchen overlooking the fishing boats brought joy to her heart. Candy fueled her spirit, and a view of swaying and bobbing fishing boats at anchor would create an aura of classical respectability.
By that hour of the morning, she would be ready for a more phenotypically genteel rhythm of fucking. Melody explained her summary view of all philosophies of fucking with the restatement of her notes from her law school lectures in "21st Century Perspectives of Contracts in Feminosi Jurisprudence."
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As she précised for Guse's edification and instruction: All unions, whether seminal or palpably whimsical, constitute a contract. Our most common experience that is illustrative of the agreement and promise inherent in the requisite consideration is the Sovereign Act of Fucking; whereas, state prescribed contractual phallic or vaginal calisthenics always flow in a regulated pattern of effaced accents of a tone or chord dependent upon a naturally strong beat by stroking it over from the preceding weak beat.
For Melody, that said it all; but Guse stood mesmerized, his eyes round and his mouth open. Guse turned to the Saxon for an interpretation.
When the Saxon's explication was concluded, Guse stared out through the bridge girders toward Mt. Tamalpais. He shrugged in frustration, and the Saxon offered to clarify any part of the explanation that Guse had not understood.
"Holy Mother, help me!" Guse muttered. "All I wanted to do was make love for 20 minutes and go to sleep."
As always, hearing the phrase "to make love" irritated Melody irrationally. Only this inherently inoffensive utterance could dislocate her genetically happy disposition. When she discovered, however, that Guse had no knowledge of what he had said, Melody once more resumed her disposition of enduring ignorance, promising to visit his loft before the dawn.
Very soon the Saxon declared that all charges had been properly recorded in his Magistrate's Court and dismissed quod eat sine die. They were free. Melody could go to Ginsburger's Soiree, and the performance of Living Art could proceed in the centermost lane.
They all agreed to meet the Saxon and Guse the next day at Senor Waldo Juarez's Cantina and Guadalajara Bakery to discuss the Opus Magnus and Doctor Fulcanelli. Now they had forged a partnership.
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CONTINUED? VERY LIKELY BUT ONLY IF BAGHDAD BY THE BAY SURVIVES ANOTHER FORTNIGHT OF ITS FECES PLAGUED EIGHTH STREET OF PROGRESSIVE DICTATES...(In memory of Herb Caen.) All rights reserved.
