“Do you believe in it?” Crossing her legs, she looks up at the crimson sky, as the affects of the Psilocybin offers a blue tint to resonate, easing the ominous skyline as the sun begins to set over the horizon.
“No, it’s all bullshit. A con, just tech sector startups conning investment banks and Venture Capitalists, all pumped and willing to invest. It’s about the client lists and who can corner the market for an asset that has no value. It is, by definition a simulated wealth…” He points to the sky with his left index finger. “...Within all this.”
“Kinda fitting I guess...” Delilah replies, out stretching her legs, leaning back feeling contented in Dalens presence. “...What’s it like being a corporate spy?”
Dalens chuckles, knowing that he had never actually disclosed what he did to Delilah, but has allowed her to fill in the blanks with her own intuition. Her question guided, as an expectation of Dalens own response.
“Well it’s a job, contracted to a Public Relations company. Not much else to say, except I would have never been able to get through the front door of their corporate world any other way. So what does one do? If you are born of the unorthodox...” Dalens replies, looking at a bench nearby. He thinks about his old mentor and the spirit that was released in this park a year ago. He then looks at Delilah.
“...Your sandwich was fucking delicious.”
“I knew you’d like it and for dessert…” She reaches into her hamper taking out a plastic lunchbox, opening the lid she hands Dalens a custard tart. “...Portuguese tarts.”
Rolling back the foil packaging which it sits in, he takes a bite.
“Did you make this?” He asks, savoring the flavor of this iconic desert.
“I wish! No, I bought them from a bakery on Mott street. They add for the custard, cinnamon sugar and nutmeg on a Kirsch base, it’s their secret recipe.”
Dalens looks at Delilah’s hair tied into a ponytail and her African features, a truly beautiful looking woman.
“How did you find out?”
Dalens has another bite, smiling at Delilah.
“I fucked the pastry chef...” She replies, finishing her tart, placing the foil wrapper back into her hamper, she gently wipes her mouth looking at Dalens for a hint of envy. To which there is none.
Dalens looks up the sky again, finishing the Rum, as Delilah hands him two metal flasks, the one with the Psilocybin, the other coated in a white sheen, which has water in it. He unscrews the flask and has a sip, handing it to Delilah, who also drinks. Dalens, then sips from the Psilocybin lemon mixture, passing it to Delilah, who also sips the psychedelic fluid.
“...It was a frantic fuck, you know, but it was enjoyable. Just sex, I needed to feel a penis inside me and he was good to go. Nice guy.”
“A hug before sex?” Dalens asks, as she studies Delilah's eyes and demeanor.
“Yeah, it was very comfortable. No speaking, just removed our clothes, went to my bed and no foreplay. Wasn't necessary. Straight to a missionary position, condom on and I eased his cock in and we started fucking...” Delilah unties her hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulders. “...So, yes. It was a hug, then we fucked.”
“How did you get the recipe for the Portuguese tarts? Before or after?” Dalens asks, feeling the affects of the Psilocybin begin again, as a cool breeze from the South West is felt and that scent in the wind that he has noticed so many times before, distinct, yet hard to describe.
“Before. When we were hugging. I asked him and he told me.”
“See, Delilah you would be a good corporate spy too,” Dalens says, as he inhales, tying to determine this indistinct scent. That only occurs when he is high, originating from the South West.
Delilah stares up the fading light.
“I had a vision after sex, without an orgasm…” She looks at Dalens again. “...of dead cities...”
Dalens nods.
“...The same vision, after we performed the ritual a few nights back.”
“Delilah, you know I enjoy getting high with you, and I do look forward to our interactions. It has been awhile since you last saw me, and that recent night of our sexual ritual was very important for both of us. Thank you listening to my story of my past and thank you for letting me assist you in removing a hungry ghost from your past. The releasing of your late mother’s spirit. If you still have fears, you maybe holding on to a legacy that should be laid to rest.”
Delilah has another sip of the Psilocybin. Feeling the trip now becoming more prolific as the sunset’s hues merge into a pleasant fusion into the natural green of the park’s flora.

___

Reading: "Dead Cities of the Stars" from RITUALS OF THE ANTITHETICAL (A.Glass 2023)

C H I A S M U S