Growing up as he had, a Puerto Riqueno with a large extended family- the hundreds of cousins and nieces and nephews- family gatherings, those exhausting things that they were, always featured dancing.
And he knew them all. Had learned them all as he built up his facade, the persona to hide the truth of what he was. There always came that point where your body and mind divorced, muscle memory and rhythm taking over one while the other could focus on other things. No matter how intricate the steps, how fast or quick the moves, no thought was required beyond the occasional decision. Dip here. Spin there.
In those moments, he was able to relax- as much as was possible in a public setting. His partner never noticed, which was always curious to him. He'd spy the sheen of perspiration on her face. The faint thrum of the carotid artery in her neck. The way her body felt against his. No, it was not lust he felt. He had never felt lust before Ana.
No. It was control. Pure and complete. In those moments he owned them. In totality. As if they had switched off their brains and were completely driven by base instinct. He a god among mortals, driving them as easily as thought.
It was the same when he was in an interview room, defendant or their attorney on the other side of the table. In the courtroom, the witness on the stand. The jury in their box. Even the judge on the bench.
Given enough time and enough practice, the body took over and the mind divorced, as if he had ascended to another plane. It was so easy to manipulate emotions despite the fact that he truly had a hard time understanding what feeling them meant.
He was god.
Ana had taught him something. For the first time in his life, he had felt it. He'd glimpsed something beyond him. Beyond the pure raw sexual collision of flesh to flesh, writhing in pleasure and pain, release. Beyond that. He had experienced something that....humbled him. Left him weeping in awe.
And he craved it, hungered for it. Those moments of pleasure, the eyes of God before him, were beyond anything he could have envisioned. And now...
Meera sat before him, playing her game. Idly, he wondered if she was any different. He doubted it. He'd quietly put feelers out to find Ana again. She was the drug he craved, now.
Still, the dance continued.
"Hah! Not a local boy. From New York." he said in cool measured tones, the kind that bespoke quiet confidence. "I came her to help a family member who is being treated at the Guardian. And..." The next was calculated. "To see of God was to be found here."
Some women were intrigued by spiritual journeys, by men seeking the divine. Very often, those that were thought they knew something. As of yet, none had any clue. But he fell into the pattern easily enough.
He took a sip, enjoyed the scent of her smoke mix with the alcohol on his tongue, and looked at her with gently probing eyes. "And you, what is it that brings you Cairo?"
And he knew them all. Had learned them all as he built up his facade, the persona to hide the truth of what he was. There always came that point where your body and mind divorced, muscle memory and rhythm taking over one while the other could focus on other things. No matter how intricate the steps, how fast or quick the moves, no thought was required beyond the occasional decision. Dip here. Spin there.
In those moments, he was able to relax- as much as was possible in a public setting. His partner never noticed, which was always curious to him. He'd spy the sheen of perspiration on her face. The faint thrum of the carotid artery in her neck. The way her body felt against his. No, it was not lust he felt. He had never felt lust before Ana.
No. It was control. Pure and complete. In those moments he owned them. In totality. As if they had switched off their brains and were completely driven by base instinct. He a god among mortals, driving them as easily as thought.
It was the same when he was in an interview room, defendant or their attorney on the other side of the table. In the courtroom, the witness on the stand. The jury in their box. Even the judge on the bench.
Given enough time and enough practice, the body took over and the mind divorced, as if he had ascended to another plane. It was so easy to manipulate emotions despite the fact that he truly had a hard time understanding what feeling them meant.
He was god.
Ana had taught him something. For the first time in his life, he had felt it. He'd glimpsed something beyond him. Beyond the pure raw sexual collision of flesh to flesh, writhing in pleasure and pain, release. Beyond that. He had experienced something that....humbled him. Left him weeping in awe.
And he craved it, hungered for it. Those moments of pleasure, the eyes of God before him, were beyond anything he could have envisioned. And now...
Meera sat before him, playing her game. Idly, he wondered if she was any different. He doubted it. He'd quietly put feelers out to find Ana again. She was the drug he craved, now.
Still, the dance continued.
"Hah! Not a local boy. From New York." he said in cool measured tones, the kind that bespoke quiet confidence. "I came her to help a family member who is being treated at the Guardian. And..." The next was calculated. "To see of God was to be found here."
Some women were intrigued by spiritual journeys, by men seeking the divine. Very often, those that were thought they knew something. As of yet, none had any clue. But he fell into the pattern easily enough.
He took a sip, enjoyed the scent of her smoke mix with the alcohol on his tongue, and looked at her with gently probing eyes. "And you, what is it that brings you Cairo?"