Dancing With The Devil

"Sure, I possess a few...let's call them gifts, such as I can make myself appear how I want, but it does not change the fact that a new born baby has more power in this world than I do to physically hurt anyone," The Devil finishes in that silky-smooth tone.

"That's not the only thing that you-" I start, but The Devil quickly leans forward and holds a finger up as if to politely say, "may I finish?"

"I have, on occasion, talked select people into doing acts that I would like them to do," The Devil explains, but says it as if it's not that big of a deal. That it's a minor aspect that I don't need to worry about. That it isn't even his fault.

"You could have had us thrown out the moment we arrived," I say, and it doesn't come out as a question but a statement. I'm sure that he could have told the owner to remove us, and we would be kicked out by security at once. The fact that he didn't means he wants us here.

"Of course," The Devil answers, looking a bit confused by this. He acts as if he's surprised I've just learned that two plus two equals four.

"Why? You know they are after you, yet you letting them stay?" I state, actually pointing off to the side where Tim went.

At this The Devil gets a wide, happy smile. The sort of smile you get when your crush tells you they love you. A smile that is meant to warm the heart and fill the soul. Yet on him, there is something vaguely sinister about it.

"Because you said, 'let them stay' and 'not let us stay.' You are not truly with them, are you, Jennifer?" The Devil asks, continuing to smile that smile that I think I'm getting attracted to. It's becoming the sort of smooth and classy smile that would make me want to jump his bones here and now.

"I understand. I understand," The Devil states, both hands out in a comforting motion. He says this before I'm able to say a response to his statement, making it again that he knows what I was about to say. That I was going to tell him he's wrong. That I am with them. Now more than ever.

"Allow me to give you a bit of deity-truth, Jennifer. I doubt your...friends...would understand this, but I have faith you will," The Devil says, waving off Tim and Tommy as if they were flies.

"Truth is the most powerful energy, weapon, whatever you want to call it, in the universe. Entire civilizations have crumbled because of the truth. The strongest or toughest people in the world could be brought down easier than ice in the sun by the truth," The Devil explains very seriously.

"Humans are so quick to lie, especially to themselves, which muddies the power of truth. One lie becomes two, then you are having to lie to cover up your other lies, till it reaches a point you are unable to remember what you first lied about. The once powerful weapon of truth you held like an atom bomb has become as worthless as a used and torn paper plate," He explains.

"I...I...I don't," I start to say, not understanding what he means. I can tell he's trying to tell me something important, but I just don't get it. He's basically saying not to lie, and that has power?

"You wish to lie to yourself, and to me, and say that you are indeed with those two amoebas roaming about like Roombas with no sensors. You lie and say you are the same as them. That you belong to the cause or whatever garbage you try and tell yourself," The Devil states more bluntly than before. Those words for some reason hit hard, cutting horribly even if the way he says them is meant to sound actually kind.

"Pardon the use of this very old saying, but you may be able to lie to yourself, but not to me," The Devil says, his eyes looking deeper than any pair of eyes I've ever seen. The sort of deep where I bet I could drown in them. For the first time I feel almost like I understand why some people would worship him.

"I see the real you, not the you that you lie to be," The Devil states, giving me a soft smile as if to say, "you can trust me." These words hit even harder, almost like being punched in the gut. It makes me feel beyond vulnerable, like a strong gust of wind could blow me away. It makes me feel for the first time in my life, real fear.

Deep inside me, I feel a conflict surging. Where it feels like I've been pretending to be who I am for far too long. That there is a real me that I've kept down. That I've been acting like someone else for such stupid reasons. But what is scary about that, is that I'm not sure who I am then. I don't even know who I am, even at my age.

"It never felt like you thought it would feel, did it?" The Devil asks seriously after several long moments. His words bring me back to my situation, where I understand I'm in the midst of this art gallery.

When I look back at the well dressed and handsome man, I notice that there are another glass of champaign in front of me. If he had another server bring them, I didn't notice. Then again, at this moment a submarine could zoom by in front of me and I may not fully notice.

Not questioning why the booze is here or asking what he means, I take the glass and down it. It's the fastest I've ever drunk champaign as I down it as if it was a shot.

"I...I don't think it wise to be talking to you," I tell my new friend, knowing with all common sense that he's dangerous. That he is the literal Devil. The leader of Hell. The taker of souls. Listening to him leads to only pain. That all that he is telling me is most likely a trick.

"I agree!" The Devils says brightly, showing he agrees with my statement one hundred percent. As he says this, those brown eyes of his light up, making it seem like he's proud of me for figuring this out.

"If you were smart, you would get up, turn around, walk out of here and never talk to any of your clown-friends again, nor myself," The Devil suggests brightly. This time I get the feeling of a father giving advice to their child in how he talks to me. That he believes without a shadow of a doubt that this is the only way I'll be safe.

Oddly enough, I can't help but feel he's right. If I did just that, I'll be fine. Sure, I may go mad knowing what I know, that the Devil is real, but nothing more would happen than that. That I would survive after becoming an alcoholic or madman for a while. I would, one day, be my normal self or at least something close to it. Safe and alive in my own world, where I don't have chase any sort of supernatural figures.

There's only one thing that stops me from doing just that, of walking out of here with my middle fingers raised, and that's the feeling that I don't know who I am. The feeling that I've been lying to myself and pretending to be someone I thought I wanted to be. But with the lights on and forced to examine myself, I see that I have clue about anything about myself.

The feeling of not knowing who I am leads me to a question that I think I really should know the answer to, but don't. And that question is, "What do I want?"

What do I want? What makes me happy? What do I want out of my life? These are questions that I should be able to answer without even thinking. Yet if you held a gun to my face, I still couldn't tell you a real answer. Sure, I could answer with a BS answer like, 'I just want to be happy' but that's garbage. I want an answer that is real. Something that is tangible.

Unable to help myself, I repeat what The Devil was saying as I look around the gallery. I look for the truth in what I'm seeing, and not what I want to see. In a way, it feels like seeing for the first time. Like I got my first pair of glasses ever and can see the world clearly instead of my normal blurred state.

The gallery is far busier than when I first arrived. All over there are well dressed people laughing and talking, looking like they are having a great time. Each one seems free and happy, like there is nothing holding them back from life. That they all know exactly who they are.

In a way, as it feels like they are on a different dimension than I am. Like they can't hear the conversation I am having or even see us. That we are in some special location were we are both alone and within the crowd. Hidden in plain sight, like I have been most of my life.

"Well Miss Jennifer, I could play this most human of games and lead you to finding the truth on your own, but time is something that is valuable to me, when it needs to be," The Devil says, cutting through the fog of my own thoughts. Turning to look at him again, he is now standing, looking even more incredibly handsome than before. Like when you find that the good looking piece of ass isn't just good looking but smart.

"Allow me to state the truth that we both know," He says to me while checking his suit. The way he says this makes it seem like he's about to leave. That he has other things to do.

Something about this makes my heart drop. It almost makes me panic. I may not know much, but I do know I want is for him to stay. I want to talk to him more. To listen to him. To just be in his presence and stare at him. It feels almost like a drug I'm abut to have to go cold turkey on.

"You are not going to walk out that door and ignore the last several months as you should Jennifer," The Devil states. Again showing just how horribly inept I am at this world, I just now notice how he's been using my name even if I never once told it to him. It again serves to make me feel so small and tiny compared to him.

He says this in

"Sure, you might walk away and disappear from your friends for a month or two, but you would go back," he continues in that confident but not unkind manner. Like explaining to a kid why you are going to win a chess match in two more moves.

"You will explain away your disappearance, telling them it was because you met me, the real me, and it freaked you out. That you needed time to come to terms with what you now know. This of course would be a lie. All of it would be a lie," The Devil states, almost making it feel like he would be ashamed of me if I did this.

"You would continue to lie to yourself saying you returned to the Looney Bin Brigade because you understand how dangerous I am, that I must be stopped," he keeps on going, his voice drawing me in more and more. Like listening to a great narrator, I find myself falling into him, where I can actually see all of this happening in my head. That's what makes it so maddening. I can so easily visualize it.

"Your lies would grow and grow, like a plant nested in the sun with rich dirt and water. They would grow until you can almost convince yourself that they are the truth. Yet despite how you will try and try, you would always know, deep inside, your actions have nothing to do with me," The Devil explains and a single tear comes flooding down my cheek.

Even if none of this has happened, I feel so ashamed of myself. It does sound exactly like me. That I would try and forget about all of them, The Devil, Tim, the cult, all of it, but I would be back. I would be back because instead of admitting what I really want, I would tell myself a lie of what I think I want. That the cult should take me back because catching The Devil is my only goal, even if that's a lie. That it's not what I truly want.

"I see the Truth inside you power Jennifer. Question now is if you are brave enough to admit that truth. You never know, you might just end up getting what you want," The Devil says, his voice dripping with silk and confidence.

The urge to start sobbing comes over me, but I somehow hold it together. Like a dam overflowing with too much water, my emotions and thoughts bubble over, leaving me with the feeling of being unchained. Where so much that I've held back is unleashed that I can't get a handle on any of it.

"Well Jennifer, there are other matters I must attend to," The Devil then tells me, signaling that yes, he is about to leave. And again, there is nothing I want less. The urge to fall to my knees and beg him to stay does come over me, but this is something I am able to resist. I may not know much, but I know I'm better than that. That I would never be that pathetic.

"L-Like what?" I ask, my face wet with tears. These words come out without any real thought. Just a curious comment about what matters could The Devil need to attend to? Meeting with The Pope? Convincing countries to unleash Nuclear War?

"Oh, appearing as a bright red demon with horns and a tail for a little boy trying to sleep. Only trouble is, I do hate hiding in closets, and under beds, oh, those tight spaces are hard on my back," The Devil answers, clearly trying to be funny. I don't even crack a smile to this as I feel another tear falling.

I know I'm not the smartest girl on the planet, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I can see that this is some Gaslighting plan by him. That he's leaving me conflicted and unsure. For what purpose I don't know. Could be he loves to fuck with people, or maybe he is worried the cult will be able to stop him. But, to be honest, it doesn't really matter.

As I feel all the conflict swirling inside me, I start answering questions I have honestly. Instead of going back and forth on answers, I answer with blunt honestly. In a way, it feels like life is too short not to be honest. Or to put in HIS way, life is too short not to deal with the truth.

And the truth is, I never wanted to be part of this cult. That's what it is, a freaking cult. Even if all that they said is true, they are still a cult. People give money and time to them blindlessly and get brainwashed that we are soldiers on a mission. I've been apart of a cult. Me. The girl that used to laugh at people like that.

Going after The Devil is something that would seem like a goal of mine, but it isn't. What the cult are after, has nothing to do with what I want. I never wanted anything they did. Not a single fucking thing.

So what is my truth? Why would I spend months belonging to a cult? Was it for friends and to feel wanted? No. I can get those things by joining a book club.

Truth is that I wanted Tim. From the first day I saw him, I wanted him. Big, strong, rigid and sexy Tim. Tim, who if he was a tool wouldn't be anything fancy like a laser-guided level that can tell the temperature, but a simple, dumb, blunt hammer.

Oh, I want him so bad. And I don't mean in a husband and wife, let me prepare dinner for you everyday sort of way. I want him carnally. Where he loses control and can't stop himself when he makes love to me. Hell, I wouldn't even call what I want making love. I want him to fuck me like an animal. For him to take me so damn hard that it could send me to the hospital. That's what I want. That's what I've always wanted.

I want Tim. For him to grab me, hold me down and fuck me as hard as he wants. Where he unleashes all of those muscles and anger into fucking me. That we have the sort of sex that I'm not even sure I would survive with the choking and holding. The sort of sex that for at least once I could say that I was properly satisfied and happy. The sort of sex that they show in the movies where the people smoke a cigarette after.

Sniffling as I find more tears have been rolling down my cheeks, I come back to my surroundings. For a moment I disappeared into myself, finding that my own truth is very deep and that you can fall into it.

The first thing I notice is the only thing that doesn't surprise me; the handsome stranger is gone. Didn't hear him move, nor did I see him walk away, but that's not surprising. I don't bother to turn and look for him as I know he's no longer at this party. Don't know where he went, or if he just disappeared or not, but I find it doubtful he will ever show himself to me again.

Downing yet another glass of champagne, I feel so very different. It's not because I've had, what, four glasses of booze. Hell, I don't even feel the affects of the drinks. No, I feel different because I can feel myself changing. Because I now vow to never lie to myself again. That my own truth needs to be what guides me, not fear, empathy or anything else.

A new emotion begins inside me now, anger. I feel mad at myself for putting so much time into all this, for no reason. I see now I was trying to be someone that Tim would want, joining his club, pretending to be interested in the missions and blah, blah. But he's never going to come after me like that. If I am being truthful, he's far too stupid to notice that I want him. Oh, he has the body of a god, but the brains of a flea. He's too stupid to see anything beyond "the mission." And so, like a lovelorn schoolgirl, I've pined for him knowing he would never return my affections.

"I've had no sight of the target, have you?" A familiar voice asks me. That voice seems to come from far away and zooms forward, like a plane diving in to drop off a bomb.

Turning my head, I see Tim. Still dressed in his "fancy clothes," he looks around the room like a terminator, convinced that his laser sight will lock on to his enemy. And like always, he has that stern and intense expression that a hammer and chisel couldn't break. Where anything in the room can be considered a threat.

Tim and his muscular body walks up to me, where he stands at my side. For the briefest of moments I feel like reaching over and grabbing his ass. To finally take a handful of it to know how it feels. To know it is as rock hard as I think it is. Where those hips could piston like a car's engine.

"Tom has reported no sighting," Tim states and I notice he didn't even wait for me to answer him. He just keeps going, assuming that I found nothing. Makes me wonder if he would even believe me if I told him who I was just talking to.

"Tim," I state, the word coming out not as a question nor a statement but something in the middle. I also hear how upset I sound when I say it. Like his name is just a tiny bit better than saying a curse word. As I say his name, I turn to face him fully, my head looking up as he is so much taller than I am. Where I can see his massive, broad chest.

"It might be time to take this to level two," Tim continues as he sees and thinks of nothing but the mission. He continues to look all around, his body ready at any time to be called into action.

"TIM!" I shout, causing most of the people nearby to go quiet and look at us. Only now do I get Tim's attention fully. Now when he looks at me, he no longer has that look of intense investigation, but a free look of utter confusion.

"I want you to fuck me," I tell Tim as clear as I can be, not caring at all that others are watching and listening. I don't care. I don't care about anyone else in this entire world at the moment. I care about my own truth and getting what I've been after all these months.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tim asks, talking much softer and leaning in, clearly embarrassed at the situation. I am very happy to see that his expression stays changed from the good soldier to a human being. That his thoughts are now no longer on his precious mission.

"I want you to fuck me. That's all I ever wanted. From the first time I saw you. And I know this is blunt and crude, but if that is not something you want, you need to tell me, now," I state, not meaning for it to come out like a ransom but not caring that it does. I am being honest with him for the first time, and now I am demanding he be honest with me.

Tim stands there, mouth open as he looks down at me. Tim has never been a good talker or thinker, but now it would he's lost the few brain cells he had because he doesn't say anything. Instead he makes odd sounds, like he can only say the briefest of syllables of the words he wants to say. If someone was just listening to him, they would most likely think he's choking on something.

"Allow me to put it in another manner," I tell Tim, knowing he'll never be able to answer me. The embarrassment, the change of plans, the nature of what I want, it's too much for him to put into words. So allow me to make his decision a hell of a lot simpler.