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Follow on Google News | "The Mysterious Woman" (part 3: excerpts of ch. 1) by MK Lukman. PIERCING EYES. All rights reserved."'PJ' moved the landline-receiver from his ear; lost in thought. The long, black, curly cord dangled at his feet; a mild dial-tone soon followed. And all he could do was think about how deep he'd got himself into her. Withdrawing? Mmmm ... not easy!"
By: Avrem Publishing House, LLC. Disclaimer: "This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and/or territories (mentioned herein) are products of the author's imagination; "The Mysterious Woman" (Part 3: Excerpts of Chapter 1) 'You're an amazingly beautiful woman', "PJ" wrote on a leaf; imagining what he'd really like to say to Beverley if they became an item. And a serious one at that! 'Oh gawd, girl! You've got the most incredible smile—I've ever seen. And you know what'? he further wrote amidst an arguably, morbid elation of his ongoing fantasy: 'I'm touched by that, in you! Not a day goes by that I don't see it, or even you, in the theatre of my mind'. But, even, if he understood the inherent ramifications of their potentially unfolding situation, his obvious downfall was a lack of patience. And, to begin with, a fear of losing 'that' which he never really had; much less, understood! Besides, there was hardly any communication, to speak of, between the two of them—at that stage of their friendship. Hit on by many a man—"PJ" being no exception!—Beverley was no stranger, at all, to the wiles of many of her past suitors. But, interestingly, "PJ" felt that he held somewhat of a psychological edge over his rivals; subconsciously instilling, in them, the impression that he'd possessed a specified quality—leaving Beverley no other choice but to think—that he was a 'slick-seeming man who was suavely or unctuously charming'. Perhaps, it all emanated from his earlier life in the 'hood—Vanbergen Gardens—where he paternally learnt a set of particular, social skills that enhanced his ability to deal with the likes of Beverley. He had 'game'. Lots of it. And it was 'tight', too! Beverley's reputation preceded her—all the way from the environs of power, politics, and intrigue—to New York's Madison Avenue. She wasn't only a prominent, corporate attorney—whose former clientèle comprised certain members of Washington, DC's political, economic, and intelligence- And, interestingly, the great great-granddaughter of Sheikh Mahmoud Alshaikh: an oil-rich, real property ('... estate') magnate of Dubai, United Arab Emirates; whereby Beverley acquired much of her wealth via inheritance, and investments in Arab oil, as well as some European luxury-goods: “PJ’s” ego, on the other hand, must've obscured the essence of the object of his affection—Beverley! Nonetheless, he continued to be worrisome—repeatedly scourging himself—because he didn't procure her contact-details, that spring-afternoon, outside 30 West. His hasty approach was getting the better of him; increasingly exacerbating his equanimity and, in the process, eroding any further chance that he might've had of wooing her—all to himself! 'A private number or address would've sufficed,' he thought; shrugging, and looking off into the bright-blue- Every now and then, a lukewarm breeze—intermixed with occasional eddies coming off the nearby Hudson River; and, in the distance, the bluish-green water of the Atlantic Ocean serving as a stunning backdrop—gently soothed his brown-complexioned face; his manicured-looking moustache and goatee, enhancing its expression. And for a brief moment—as his troubled thoughts drifted off, somewhere, into space—he seemed to have found a bit of respite from his torturous fantasy. Albeit, sweet and sensuous—at times! But seemingly far beneath his balcony—amidst a tortuous maze of roads and alleyways: some damp and pungent; others warm and pleasurable— "Damn! Ain't that a bitch!" he murmured, lounging on his chair; his hands intertwined beneath his nape—legs, outstretched— But it wasn't long before the veil of his euphoria-like moment—of wonderful silence—was pierced by the alarmingly loud honk-cries of passing, migratory, Canadian geese doing, amongst other things, a speedy 'fly-by'. He was fascinated by their simplicity. But, unlike them, he instinctually failed to realise that everything had its own time and place: even for the geese! Their primitive cries, preceding them just before coming into view (if at all!), took "PJ" all the way back to his own childhood in Vanbergen Gardens when things were less complicated. Nonetheless, he curiously craned his neck hoping to catch a glimpse of them, one last time; but all that was seemingly allowed, perhaps as an act of fate or Providence or timing, were just their cries. As the weeks passed into months, his hopes-and-dreams— 'But what could possibly have fuelled such a fixation'? one might ask. "PJ" wrote the script of their lives: his, and hers! Beverley was as much a player on his stage as he was on hers; albeit with a bit of bias. What he felt for her wasn't superficial! # # # Avrem Publishing House, a subsidiary of Avrem Enterprises Group, Inc., is committed to the publication of compelling, fictional characters that have been influenced, motivated, or flawed, in one way or another, by infidelity, greed, intrigue, and power. End
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