The Devil's Bargain Ch. 02

THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN Chapter 2

I did what Angel had suggested. I thought carefully about what I was planning to get myself into. I knew what I didn't want: a woman looking for a husband. Even a complicated relationship would be beyond my capabilities. Between Freya and Connie's Mom, I just didn't have that much time.

Angel had warned me to be careful. I showered and shaved again, and then drank a cup of coffee before I walked over to the Queen's Arms.

Tansa was waiting for me, sitting at the same table where we'd met the night before.

- "You're on time." she said. "I like that. Too few people are punctual these days."

I sat down. On the chair next to her, Tansa had a leather briefcase.

"Would you like a pint? Or something stronger?"

- "Nothing, thank you." I said.

- "Oh, serious, are we?" Tansa reached into the briefcase and pulled out a laptop.

- "I have several questions, first."

- "Of course you do. Fire away."

- How does this work, exactly? I understand that Angel is beholden to you somehow, and that's why she agreed to go home with me last night. I imagine that the other three women who were here are in the same boat. But you can't do that with every woman in the world."

- "Actually, I can."

- "How?"

- "I teach you a simple set of phrases - but not something that you would blurt out by accident." She smiled. "That could end up being awkward."

- "It's like a spell? Magic?"

- "Sure, let's call it magic, if you're more comfortable with that."

- "So I say the magic words, and any woman in the world will have sex with me."

- "That's the idea." Tansa smiled again, showing off her dimples.

- "You make it sound so... simple."

- "That's because it is. What were you expecting? An unlimited amount of cash, so that you could lead a flash lifestyle, with all the leisure time you could possibly want, and the ability to shower women with gifts? That may sound nice, but all that would get you would be hookers and gold-diggers. That's not what you're after, is it?"

- "No. Next question." I couldn't let her side-track me. " I pulled out the list I'd drawn up at home.

- "Oh, dear." said Tansa.

- "How often?" I asked.

- "As often as you want. Once you say the words, she will be ready to have sex with you whenever you like."

- "For how long? One night?"

- "No, no, no." said Tansa. "For years, if you want. But there are limitations. These will be real women, Dan. They will need to eat, and sleep. They may have a job, or a family, or other commitments - just like you do."

- "I don't want married women."

- "Good for you. So you'd better make sure that they're single before you say the words." she said. "I'm just trying to get you to see that they won't be mindless sex-slaves. You can't have them move in with you and serve you hand and foot, because you don't have enough room, and you couldn't afford to support them, anyway."

- "I see." That was actually helpful.

- "Likewise, don't choose a rich woman, expecting her to support you. She may want to have sex with you, but it doesn't mean that she's going hand over all of her money. Be careful if you choose a high-fashion model, or a professional athlete, because they travel a lot. Do I even need to mention porn stars?"

- "No." I went to my next question. "What if I have conditions?"

She didn't even blink. "Such as?"

- "What if I want them to enjoy it? I mean, really enjoy it."

- "That's a bit unusual. You understand that they're yours after the words, right? But if that's what you want... we can add that in. Just be aware that the more bells and whistles and options you ask for, the less you're going to get for your money."

- "Meaning?"

- "How many women are you hoping to have sex with?"

I'd actually considered that in advance. I wasn't opposed to near-anonymous encounters, but I didn't want a string of one night stands. After a while, that would lose its appeal, especially if I was enjoying myself and they weren't. It may sound strange, but I'd felt a connection with Angel. I'd have liked to see her again. I would much prefer friends with benefits, or even fuck buddies. Girlfriends, even. Just not a wife.

If I liked a woman, and enjoyed having sex with her - and could ensure that she did, too - then why wouldn't I want to see her again?

But how many women could I handle? A hundred? At the rate of one woman a day, I wouldn't see them more than once every three or four months. Fifty was still probably too many. Even ten women would mean that I could only see them two or three times a month.

- "More than one." I said. "Less than a hundred."

She shook her head. "Look - why don't you tell me these conditions - these options you're looking for - and then we'll work out an appropriate number."

- "Alright. I want them to enjoy the sex. I want it to be wonderful for them."

Tansa tapped a couple of keys on her laptop. "What about you?" she asked.

- "It will be."

- "I can make it the best sex of their lives. You realize that it isn't necessary, right?"

- "I understand. I would like... would it be possible to have some... affection in the relationship?"

- "Meaning?"

- "I don't want them... against their will. Not entirely. I mean, not married women. Not virgins. Do you understand what I mean?"

- "Dan, if we rule out married women, reluctant virgins, and women who just aren't interested in you, you're not going to have many options."

- "I would just prefer if... they weren't entirely opposed to the idea. Is there any way to rule them out if they wouldn't be interested at all?"

- "If it's going to be the best sex of their lives, that may not be necessary, either." Tansa saw that I was about to insist, and held up a hand. "Alright! Adding 'a certain degree of interest." She tapped a few more keys.

- I also don't want to hurt them. If, for whatever reason, I don't want to see them anymore, I don't want them to suffer. No broken hearts."

- "Clean breakups. But you won't have any possibility of getting back together afterwards. Just so we're clear on that." Tap tap. "What's next?"

- "No pregnancies. And no STDs. And the women won't worry about it." After all of the years that Connie had insisted on condoms, I wanted to experience sex bareback, without any worries.

- "So you want to be sterile? Are you sure?"

- "For these women, yes."

- "Ah. Selective sterility. And I can make sure that they don't pass you any diseases." Tap tap. "Anything else?"              

- "No. But I may think of something else before we're finished."

- "Fair enough." said Tansa. "Now - how about a number. Give me a ballpark figure."

- "Umm... ten?"

- "We can do ten." She'd said that too quickly. I should have started higher. I wouldn't need that many, but there was no reason that I had to use the magic words a maximum number of times. I could always keep some in reserve. "How about twenty-five?"

- "Don't push it." she growled. Then she turned her head slightly. "Hmm... do you trust your luck, Dan? Or your skill?" She lifted a finger and pointed.

I looked in that direction. The Queen's Arms was a traditional pub. In addition to their collection of English ales and bitters on tap, there was also a dartboard in the corner. It had seen a lot of use, and even in the low lighting looked faded and worn.

"What do you think?" she asked.

I might have played darts twice in my life. I had no skill to speak of. Could I trust to luck?

- "What if I miss the board entirely?"

- "Well, that wouldn't count, obviously. But think big, Dan. Doubles and triples count. A triple twenty would be sixty. And we'll count the bullseye as well: green is 25, and the red is 50."

- "I don't think I'll hit a bull."

- "Who knows?" she said. "You could. And you keep throwing until you get a score between one and sixty."

Tansa called the waitress over. She ordered another gin and tonic for herself, and asked for a set of darts. She offered me a drink again, which I declined. There was a lot of hard bargaining still to come.

- "Now that you've heard what I want, it's your turn." I said. "What do you want?"

- "Not your soul. Nor your life. This isn't some convoluted trick to send you to hell - even if there was such a place as you're imagining."

- "There's no hell?" How could she know that?

- "I didn't say that. But there's no heaven or hell the way you've been taught."

- "But they exist? Is hell the absence of heaven?"

Tansa gave me a tired smile. "Look. If you want the answer to theological or philosophical questions, those are separate, completely different types of arrangements."

Arrangement. That was the word, the exact term that Tansa used.

- "What's your arrangement with Angel?" I asked.

- "None of your business, Dan. Just as our arrangement will be no one else's business. Completely secret. Absolutely private. Guaranteed. If I reveal the terms of our agreement, it is immediately voided, regardless of how many women you've enjoyed. You would no longer owe me anything."

- "And what is it that I would owe you? Last night, you called it a favour - to be determined later."

- "I understand that you have concerns. I like you, Dan." she said.

- "I've heard that before; coming from lawyer or a car salesman, it means 'bend over and drop your trousers'."

- "So cynical. Has your life really been all that bad? Look - I do like you. That's why I'll tell you what you'll owe. The standard is a year less a day."

- "A year of what?"

- "You would be working for me. Think of it as a personal services contract. I would employ you in a way that made use of your skills. Eight hours a day, tops."

You may understand that I was highly suspicious, on multiple levels.

- "How long is a year? And a day?"

- "A year is 365 days, measured by the orbit of the earth around the sun - not counting a leap year, of course. You don't have to choose a leap year, Dan. A day is 24 hours, earth standard. This isn't a trick, either: I may like you, but that doesn't mean that I want you around for all eternity."

- "I get this writing?"

- "Yes."

- "Is this the agreement you have with Angel?"

- "Non-disclosure is part of our arrangement. Honestly, though: do you think I would ask you to do something you found distasteful? Did Angel look disgusted last night?"

She hadn't. I had the distinct impression that she'd liked me - a little. And I might have been flattering myself, but I thought that having sex with me hadn't been horrible for her. That experience had led directly to some of the conditions I'd asked for tonight.

But Angel had also warned me to be careful.

"Don't forget," said Tansa, "you can choose when this year of work takes place. It's entirely up to you - unless you leave it to the last moment, in which case, I'll visit you again exactly 18 months before you die."

My mouth might have dropped open again.

- "You know when I'm going to die?" No, I didn't believe or God or the Devil. On one level, I was still trying to figure out when Tansa was going to jump up and yell 'Gotcha!', and I would find out that I was the victim of some enormous, elaborate practical joke.

Except that... Angel had had sex with me. And when Tansa suggested that she knew the date of my death... I believed her.

- "Relax." she said. "You've got quite a few years left."

I was paranoid enough to try out a few of my wilder guesses.

- "What if I walk out of here, and get run over by a truck? Not killed, but put in a coma? Then you'd never have to fulfill your part of the bargain, but I would still owe you..."

- "How would you be able to work for me if you're in a coma?"

I know. It made no sense. But I was still furiously thinking about ways that Tansa could screw me over, and prevent me from enjoying what she'd promised, while still leaving me indebted to her.

Except that... if that was her plan, she could have promised a lot more. And she'd sent Angel home with me.

"Look, Dan - would it help if you had a better idea of the stakes? I have everything written up here." She tapped the edge of her laptop with a fingernail. "You're not committed to anything, yet. As I said last night, you can walk away at any time. But aren't you curious to know how many women we're talking about?"

It was superb salesmanship. No obligation. No down payment. But I was curious.

"Throw a dart." she suggested. "Then we can talk some more. Or you walk away. Your choice."

I sat and thought about it. I wasn't going to let her stampede me into a decision. Tansa ordered another gin and tonic. I made the mistake of glancing at the darts on the table.

What if... what if I hit a bullseye? Or a triple. Three times 16 is 48. Even three times ten... thirty. Idle dreams. There's a saying: 'Close only counts in darts and hand grenades'. Well, as far as I could tell, 'close' in darts was not quite the same.

Look at the number 20. If you miss to either side by so much as a hair, you're getting a 1 or a 5. If you aim at the 19, the numbers next to it are 2 and 3.

Tansa didn't say a thing. She let me sit there, calculating the odds. Math geek, engineer... I knew what the odds were: negligible. I wasn't a darts player. How was I going to hit anything?

But I wasn't achieving much by sitting here over-analyzing everything, either. I stood up, picked up a dart, and threw it at the board.

It bounced off. I had to quickly take a step back so that it didn't hit my leg. I could've sworn, though, that it hit the bullseye before it bounced out.

Again, Tansa didn't utter a word.

I took a deep breath, and then picked up my errant missile. Then I took a good look at the dartboard. I didn't want to risk hitting a 1, or a 3. But as I looked at the left-hand side of the board, I noticed something.

Think of a clock. It's the same shape. But the dartboard numbers don't follow around the board consecutively. At 12 o'clock, you have the 20. At 3 o'clock, the 6. Six o'clock is number 3, and 9 o'clock is 14.

Next to the 5 (at, say 10:30 on the clock) is the 12. Working your way in a counter-clockwise direction, the next numbers are 9, 14, 11, 8, and 16. If I aimed for a 14, and missed by an inch or so, I would get 9 or 11. And if I could somehow hit a triple...

Enough thinking. I threw the dart. Hard, but not like throwing a baseball. This time, the dart stuck in the board.

- "Fourteen." said Tansa. "Good dart."

Now my dilemma had a number on it.

In my entire life, I'd had sex with three women. Two awful occasions with Cathy; countless blowjobs and maybe twenty to twenty-five fucks with Jill. A number of good years with Connie, before being cut off physically and emotionally.

I could have sex with fourteen women.

I sat back down at the table. Tansa let me have all the time I needed.

- "Let me see it." I said.

Tansa turned her laptop around - and there it was.

I would be able to have sex with 14 women, as often as I wanted to - or was able to. That last phrase worried me; what if I walked out of the Queen's Arms and got hit by a truck, which knocked my dick off? I said as much to Tansa.

- "Dan, I want you to work for me for a year. How happy will you be, if you think that I knocked your dick off so that I wouldn't have to fulfill my part of our arrangement? Do I want a disgruntled employee?"

That made sense. She wouldn't have sent Angel home with me if she was going to do that. But I made her put into writing anyway.

- "Fine." she said. "If Dan is physically unable to achieve erection, and cannot have sex with 14 women, the agreement is void. If he has performance issues after the age of 75, that's his problem." That's exactly how she wrote it.

She explained, in writing, how I could 'choose' the women I wanted. I simply had to say - within hearing of the woman in question - 'I want you - One'.

- "Wait." I said "Within hearing - what does that mean?"

- "That's for your benefit, Dan. Say it quietly, in a noisy environment. She doesn't have to hear you. But she'll know you said it. Then the effects kick in."

If I said 'I want you - one' to a woman, she would have one of several reactions. Throwing up, dry retching, a panic attack or instant flight were clean signs that she really didn't want to have sex with me. If she smiled slightly... then I could go to the next phrase.

'I want you - Two' was the second step. If she was married, in a committed or exclusive relationship, or a virgin, she would turn red. Bright red. She would also be unable to answer me for several moments. If she nodded, then I was good to go on.

- "That's so you can't possibly miss it." said Tansa. "Then you can delay for up to 24 hours before saying the final phrase: 'I want you - Three'. I wouldn't recommend delaying, though, in case you can't find her the next day. Are these phrases satisfactory?"

I wouldn't be breaking up marriages or relationships. Nor would I be compelling reluctant or unwilling women to have sex with me.

- "Thank you." I said. Then a thought occurred to me. "Wait! If I say the phrases to her, but she... she gags, or whatever - does that count as one of the fourteen?"

- "Of course not. You can talk to as many women as you want. You can try to succeed on your own, too. But if you use the phrases, and have sex with that woman, then she counts as one of the fourteen."

- "I don't want to be arrested for sexual harassment, either."

- "None of the women will remember what you said - successful or not. You wouldn't want your girlfriend to know that you used a spell on her, would you? So she won't."

The other clauses were there: best sex of their lives, no broken hearts, no pregnancies or sexually transmitted diseases.

Below that was the other half of the contract. A year less a day of personal services, based primarily on my skills and abilities. I had the choice to offer that year at any time, up to 18 months before my death. It was all there, in writing.

Tansa had a slim printer in that leather briefcase. She hooked it up to her laptop, and printed two copies of 'the arrangement'. She passed me both copies.

- "I have to use the ladies' room." she said. "Remember, Dan: you can get up and walk away. You don't have to sign anything. The offer expires at 1:00 A.M. - that's when the pub closes. You have until then to make up your mind." She got up and left me alone.

I sat there.

Sometimes, you sit and think. Sometimes, you just sit. I was pretty sure that I understood all of the ramifications of Tansa's 'arrangement'. Did I trust her? No. Did I want the 14 women? Very much.

Could I find sex and companionship without Tansa? Probably. But would I be happy with it? Some of my remaining friends had tried to set me up with single women. In their view, a widower like me would be happy to meet widows or divorced women of about the same age - early forties.

There's an old, old belief that divorcees are 'hot to trot'. That was not my experience; the handful of women I met through friends fell into two groups: the ones who were seriously pissed off at their ex-husbands (and others who shared his gender), and the ones who were looking for their next husband (or serious relationship). It didn't help that I wasn't even remotely attracted to any of them.

I could have tried online dating, except that I didn't know how, and I was quite honestly afraid of the type of person I might meet. I might flounder around, having more experiences like my first two (Cathy and Jill) - or I could do even worse.

Tansa had suggested that I wasn't going to die young. So what if I owed her a year of work in my eighties? What was she going to have me do - dig ditches?

Tansa returned to the table. She'd picked up a fresh drink for herself on the way. She sat down without saying a word.