Tuesday, August 13, 2019


Brian Joseph Johns... writer of this mess...
Though its not about me at all.
Its about the Toronto, Canada and the World that I love.
Most of all, its about people, especially 

Women and the Men who become our icons by way of virtue.
Sometimes fiction makes a return. Like an incredible Thai, Japanese or Vietnamese massage. Perhaps even like a Korean hair massage via SwitchScissors. If you're a guy like me and admire the anatomy and cerebellum of many Canadian Women, as much so as do I, then this post is for you.

Monique sat seemingly comfortably with her legs crossed, purposely exposing her shapely calfs and muscular thighs. For her it was all the regimen of her industry. Present herself as she had for so many times on the covers of Vogue, Elle, GQ Style and numerous other fashion news worthy ads and snippets. She was used to it as it had become second nature to her. Monique had become a bit of an expert at keeping aspects of her life a second nature to her own true identity, the Eclipse.

She watched from her perch as Heylyn, her best friend and confidant rounded the big wigs of the party. Schmoozing and strategically flattering where need be, discarding sincerity in the name of something much bigger than the two of them, each.

There were times when she wasn't sure that Heylyn was on the same page as her. Heylyn was so sincere and made everyone feel at home, even when it wasn't her home. Her bar, though she'd often pay for every drop they drank. Heylyn liked to work with the like minded. The members of her competitive business who protected the same ideals.

That was not solely Heylyn's doing. No, not at all. In fact, Heylyn with her West Meet East brand had stumbled upon a growing trend and power in the industry for which many had failed to account.

The fearless butterfly had opened the eyes of many, though never seeking her own praise. The strawberry had humbled her many times before, reminding Heylyn that life wasn't about her, but in fact about a boundary that evaded us each and every one.

An existential ideal which was neither wrong nor right. Neither meek nor might. Neither strong nor sight. When she was lost, oh so clearly lost Heylyn that is: she danced. How she danced. The lost ballerina. The Butterfly in an age of Swans. Tchaikovsky would likely have conceded with her for his love of all things. Heylyn knew of him from his music, and there is no way to know someone lesser than the song of their heart. Tchaikovsky's heart spoke in volumes that rang clear with the hearts of so many. Heylyn's and Monique's included. Oh how they felt the composer's anguish. Yet through this anguish of the soul Monique kept her legs folded like a work of curved art. Like a sculpture of which Michaelangelo himself would be envious. Her arms replacing the Venus De Milo and her mind replacing the Thinker. So astute though no less to her charm and mind as was Heylyn's.

Who could understand the heart so much as those who sought to quench it's yearning? Long lost and evermore so as Monique had heard it put in the words of a lost poet: if hearts cry, then so do I!

Monique did not cry on this night. Instead she held it deep inside as did Heylyn. She presented herself and her physique, a piece of sensuous meat for the taking. Her quarry did not understand nor appreciate the female mind as did so many Men. Instead they were seeking pleasures beyond the offerings of compassionate lovers, specifically Women. They sought what they could not have by way or will alone. The helpless Female, who waited for her Man to steer her right and clear of her lost ways. Into the midst of truth. A truth that very few Men understood at the time. Monique watched carefully understanding what she did.

Heylyn understood Men. She'd loved once and wholly believed that she would love again, though she  unconsciously believed that she was deluding herself.

She'd encountered many Men in her field who'd fantasized about possessing her. Wielding her like a trophy of gold. A possession of theirs to be discarded when their wants became too public. Too unsavory for the masses who'd consumed much the same many times before only finding dismay when their sexual appetite became publically known. How did Women so often find themselves on the negative of this equation? Helpless. Prey for the predator.

Yet Monique presented her leg as did Heylyn present her self. Seeking the ever hungry wolf. The prey seeking the predator.

At that moment, when both Monique and Heylyn had lost hope is when the predator struck.

"I find you too alluring to put down. You're not a play toy are you?" asked the Man who'd suddenly appeared by her side on the sofa.

His hand found her bare knee and then crawled by way of his fingers, crawling to the hilt of her dress and nearly a'tween her legs.

Monique shuddered a moment in ecstasy, perhaps alluding to fantasy but more likely playing the part of the bait.

"And so you seek furtile lands beyond your grasp?" Monique responded to his attempt at her non-consensual seduction.

"Shakespeare?" answered the grasper.

"No. Descartes. He was as much a Gentleman as was Shakespeare. Descartes refrained from mapping Women's anatomy for his own pleasure, that is unless Women invited him as much to do so. I don't seem to remember seeing your invitation?" Monique pulled her skirt  down and her curvaceous leg back to its  home.

"A fine tribute to his resistance to the lures of the opposite sex?" the man replied, seeming all the more allured by her feminine confidence and perhaps her resistance.

"Are you saying that Newton's work on rigid body dynamics lacks female insight? Next you'll be telling me that the gravity between us does not exist!" posed the insistent man.

"Gravity is very much a debated subject though I'd vouch for its presence, especially in contradiction to jerks like yourself." Alicia unexpectedly jumped into Monique's response, watching the jerk's hand seek the midpoint between Monique's two legs.

"I kind of like gravity, myself. My wife really knows the subject of gravity, quantum physics and string theory so I trust her rather than jerks like you." Walton Norler stepped in, defending Alicia's response.

"I'd say that I'd back them up. All of them. Not for marketing but rather the fact that Women deserve nothing but their own discretion when it comes to their fans." Yirfir stated, backing Norler's stance.

Yirfir had as much kept herself distant of the dealings

To be continued very soon... I promise. Maybe tonight. Maybe sooner.

Brian Joseph Johns

200 Sherbourne Street #701
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M5A 3Z5



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