Luxuriance

My flat.

I’m the sort of person you ought to loathe, philosopher, Priya says. So why don’t you? You’ve invited the enemy in. You’re betraying yourself. And your people. And philosophy. And everything.

Maybe it’s my revenge, I say.

On what? On organisational management? Priya asks. Because I’m the head of department’s wife … I see it … This is your way of lobbing a grenade into the enemy camp … Well, maybe.

He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, your husband, I say. I like way he dresses – his three piece suit. It gives him some distinction. Is that why you went for him?

The question is why I went for you, Priya says.

I suppose you’ve had a series of lovers, I say. I suppose he likes it.

No, actually, Priya says. Nothing like that.

And his northern accent, I say. And his easy going manner. He seems very affable.

He is affable, Priya says. He’s really very nice.

And there’s the management style of your husband, I say. The organisational management style …

My husband thought it was a good idea, bringing philosophy into organisation management …, Priya says. Exploring synergies.

And you can say that with a straight face? I say. You can repeat those things? Anyway, they made him do it.

They did make him do it, Priya says. But he has a good attitude, unlike you. I know you’re sneering. And maybe you’re right to …

Where are you going to tell him you’ve been your husband? I ask. How are you going to account for yourself?

I’ll say I was at the gym, as usual, Priya says. At exercise class.

Does he suspect? I ask. Surely he must suspect. He must have some sense that your mind’s elsewhere. And your body …

My body’s not elsewhere, Priya says. I fuck him too.

You’re so shameless, I say.

I am, aren’t I? Priya says. How can I do this to my husband?: that’s what you’re thinking. But I like doing this to my husband. It feels right to be doing this to my husband.

Why do you never call him by name? I ask.

Because he’s essentially anonymous, Priya says. Because he’s a force. Because he’s a collection of husband drives. Anyway, I don’t want to think about him …

But there’s a reason we’re here, isn’t there? Priya says. Are you waiting to get down to it? For the real business to start? You’ll have to court me first. Compliment me on what I’m wearing. Tell me I have … sparkling eyes. Notice my new hairstyle. I haven’t actually got a new hairstyle, but you get the idea. I want to hear some sweet nothings. Some sweet philosophical nothings, if necessary. I want to be re-seduced. I want to be seduced all over again.

Win me. Win my heart, philosopher, Priya says. I want to feel like the most important girl in the world. Make it all about me. That no one matters to you but me. Come on, complement me on my outfit. On what I’m wearing. On my earrings, for fuck’s sake. I’m wearing pearl earrings …

Flatter me. Seduce me. Make me horny, Priya says. Do you like that word, horny? I can see you flinch. Am I a bit too brazen for you? Would you prefer a little reserve? A little mystery? Am I offending you in my gauche organisational management way?

I do think you’re beautiful, I say. Which is part of why I want to defile it.

Beautiful, philosopher? Priya says. What do you mean by beauty?

You today. Your face touched with light, I say. The fascination of your eyes. Of my being looked at, by those eyes. Of those eyes, turning towards me.

That’s more like it, Priya says. Continue.

You can make things happen – just by your presence, I say. People are shaken out of themselves. Reminded …

Of what? Priya says.

The fact that beauty is alive, I say. The fact that beauty can pass through the earth. The fact that beauty can arrive here, in this town, on these streets. The fact that miracles are possible and the world really can be overturned.

Anything could happen to you, I say. You could just be swept up. On an adventure. Have a string of lovers.

I’m on an adventure now, aren’t I? Priya says.

And who doesn’t want to delight you, just to be able to see your face, delighted? I say. Who doesn’t want to charm you, just to see your face, charmed? Who doesn’t want to make you smile, just to see you smile?

Oh, you’re good at this, Priya says.

Beauty: is proof that God exists, after all, I say. That we’re not all doomed, after all. That we’re not all destroyable, replaceable, murderable, strangleable, chokable, shootable, stabbable.

Don’t be so dark, Priya says.

You awaken the desire to court, I say. You surprise potential lovers by their new wit. By their attentiveness. It’s as though they were in a musical, or something. As though their business was to delight you. To make you laugh, just to watch you laugh. Just to hear it: your laughter. Just to see your laughing face. Its marvel.

You’re a virtuoso, Priya says. Even if I don’t think you mean any of it.

You’re getting hotter, I say. You’re peaking. This might be the height of your beauty.

And why do you deserve my so-called beauty, philosopher? Priya asks. Why do you get to have it? You tell me …

Because I appreciate it, I say. Because I’m a connoisseur.

The connoisseur of me, Priya says. I like that idea.

In bed.

I like my body when it’s with your body, Priya says. That’s the thing. And I like your body. I like what it does. I like how it does it. I like all these things … I like exposing this. I like licking this. I like putting my tongue on this. And I like … you doing the same.

Oh – my – God. How do we work up all this lust? Priya asks. We’re so virile. You’re so virile … Are you wishing I’d shut up? Maybe I’m wishing I’d shut up …

Later.

I feel like I’m purring, Priya says.

You’re very good at luxuriating, I say. You were made for luxuriating. You’re the kind of person who feels at home on holiday. Who knows what to do on holiday. Right?

Implying that you’re not, Priya says. And that not knowing what to do on holiday is somehow superior.

You were made to luxuriate, I say. You luxuriate in luxuriance. This is an idyll in life for you. It’s a grove. It’s a vista.

It is, Priya says. And I suppose I’m to be ashamed at that?

It’s like you’re playing with me, I say. You can play at romance with me. Your real relationship is elsewhere. So all this is a … toying. A playing. Some idle distraction.

Oh, it’s a bit more than that, Priya says.

Come on, it’s just Something to Do, I say. It’s a Diversion. It’s a little escape.

I like our Thing, Priya says. I like your Thing. Anyway, I suspect that you might be playing with me. Do you mind me being here? Am I a distraction? Do I get in the way of your work? Ha – I quite like getting in the way of your work.

Silence.

You have an optimistic and trusting nose, Priya says.

How can you tell? I ask. What have noses got to do with anything?

You can see everything in the nose, Priya says. And the chin. And in the shape of the eyes. And you have such kind fingers, though your thumb looks rather stubborn.

Is this how lovers talk? I ask.

I really wouldn’t recall, Priya says.

What about with your husband? I ask.

Oh that was years ago, Priya says. I’m not sure I want to remember.

Was there a honeymoon period? I ask.

There’s always a honeymoon period, Priya says. Then there was a humdrum period. Then there was a blue period – a fifteen-years-together-and-what-for? period.

And what period are you in now? I ask.

The illicit period, Priya says.

You’re an attractive couple, I say.

Oh I’m sure we are, Priya says. But I really don’t want to think about it.

You must be comfortably off, I say. Your joint salary.

We’re the bourgeois you no doubt despise, philosopher, Priya says. And who you’re getting your revenge on right now.

Is that what it is, revenge? I ask.

All these books, philosopher, Priya says. They’re all about revenge. They’re written by people who didn’t know how to live. So they wrote books instead.

Is that the secret? I ask.

All these books by Karl Marx, Priya says. So it’s true about humanities types. You really are Marxists … And all these books about world revolution … Do you think it’s going to happen, world revolution? Are you doing your bit for world revolution by sleeping with the enemy?

Well, the day’s wearing on, Priya says. I must away. I can’t think of a good excuse why I should be away any longer than this.

Getting dressed.

Look at my cheeks – I’m blushing, Priya says.

That’s a post orgasmic glow, I say. Do you think your husband will notice?

I think my husband might be out with a lover of his own, Priya says.

Do you think? I ask.

It would make things easier, wouldn’t it? Priya says.