The Blade of Deceit
by
Alan Bartlett
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Alan Bartlett on Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 by Alan Bartlett
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The Blade of Deceit
By BARTLETT
The blade swings left. The blade swings right. Deceit is a blade which cuts deeper than a knife—the blade of deceit cuts to the soul. Yesterday the blade of deceit cut Imalta. I swung the blade back, her way; she never saw it coming and she felt safe in my arms. Oh, the shocked look on her face, the pain in her eyes. She asked me why. I told her: I am a snake and snakes bite. She looked confused, clearly not understanding what I meant. She died full of pride; ignorant, that she was in the arms of the enemy and that she was the greatest cause of her own downfall.
Imalta was educated, well groomed, and rich. No one would have guessed she could have been so ignorant. Ignorance is a silent, unknown pain, and a killer that can be dealt with by only the humble in heart. We all are ignorant in some way. Admitting it is painful, lifesaving, and a beacon of light for those who address their ignorance well. Imalta lived in the dark. She was her worst enemy, and I was her enemy’s best friend. Imalta and I worked together to hide the truth from her; I lied a lot and she ignored the truth a lot. Imalta did not want to know the truth; it did not line up with who she claimed to be and who she was in the mirror. I told her what she wanted to hear and encouraged her to be who she claimed to be. If Imalta would have humbled herself, and embraced the truth, she would have seen the blade coming.
Imalta loved me and I loved her like a pimp. It was hard pimping Imalta. She could not be pimped in a conventional manner. Her pride would never let a man run over her and she was too ignorant to be scared. I had to use pimp love, and capture her mind, then her heart. Where a person’s treasure is, is where their heart is. What she treasured most was how she felt about herself. Pimp love is like witchcraft and pimps are like warlocks; they cast spells using self-esteem, which allows them to control woman by playing with their desires and their self-image. If you know what a woman wants, or if you can trick her into wanting something she thinks you have, then you got her. I used pimp love to control Imalta.
I meet Imalta two years ago. She was on vacation in the Bahamas, standing poolside with her husband. They were drinking some type of drink with matching umbrellas; the shade from the nearby trees protected them from the sun. A gentle breeze was blowing her dress in the wind, and she revealed more than her husband wanted others to see. You could tell she felt sexy and wanted to be told she was sexy. She would be my next victim.
I was on the hunt, and was dressed to kill. I wore expensive clothing, diamonds on my fingers, the best shoes, and I was well groomed. I caught Imalta’s eye. She looked my way and turned away quickly. She glanced at me again and we both knew what a second look meant—she was wondering who I was. She had wanting eyes and I was going to give her more than she could handle. Her vacation plans were about to change and her life would never be the same.
I stood up slowly from my chair, stretching my hands to the sky and flexing my muscles. The women around the pool stared at me; I looked around at a couple of them and smiled. I walked slowly toward Imalta. When Imalta’s husband’s head was turned, I smiled at her and stared in her eyes. When her husband looked my way, I turned my head, looked at the juice girl behind the bar where they stood, and smiled at her. Then he walked away with two ladies. They looked as if they worked at the hotel. I looked in Imalta’s eyes again, by this time I was standing next to her at the bar.
I said hello, and lied about my name. “My name is Tevlone, and yours?" She told me her name. She also told me they were on vacation with a church group and that her husband had to leave to setup for tomorrow’s event. I told her I was a successful life coach that traveled the world helping high-priced customers change their image and life.
I asked her,
“Do you have everything in life you want, and if not, why not?”
Her silence spoke loudly. It was clear she was looking for something.
I told her,
“Dare to be great. Forget the things you have been taught and do what pleases you the most. You’re a goddess. You should be living the life of a goddess. The world should revolve around you.”
Her eyes lit up, she liked what I said, and the attention I was giving her.
Imalta looked me up and down for a second or two, grabbed my hand and said, “You’re hired.”
We talked for about an hour, and then her husband came back. She told him what I did for a living and that she had hired me. He did not seem thrilled with the decision, but agreed with her. He might have been running things at the Church, but she was running things in the relationship. I told them that I charged $1,500 a week and that they were such great people that the first two weeks of my twenty-four week program was free. We agreed to meet at the hotel cafe on the pier later that night. Imalta was excited and wanted to get started changing her image, or better said, her life.
***
We met at the café. The moon was full, the night sky was glowing, a breeze was rolling in from the sea, and live smooth jazz was being played by the band. We picked a table closest to the end of the pier, where we could see the ocean meet the moon over the horizon.
I had to set the tone. I had to make them fight. I had to separate them. I had to get Imalta alone and take advantage of her. When we sat down at the table I stated, “This whole night is about Imalta.” Her husband quickly agreed. You could tell he loved his wife and wanted to make her happy.
I said, “We should find the most amazing star and name it after you, Imalta. You look amazing and better than everyone in the place.”
Her husband agreed, then looked at me with evil eyes, and told me to back up off his wife. She told him to calm down. I told them both in a gentle voice that I did not mean any harm. Imalta said it was ok; her husband was still upset.
Then she told him, “If you told me I was amazing, then when someone else said it, you would not get so upset.”
He gave her a dirty look. She gave him a dirtier look. Then all hell broke loose. They started fussing, bringing up old issues. The husband wanted to go back to the room and try to work things out.
Imalta said, “I am staying.”
She wanted to start working on her image and change her life. She asked her husband why he was trying to control her.
Her husband was hurt by her comment. The sad look on his face made him seem weak. This fool was in love. I think he could tell Imalta liked what I represented more than she wanted to be with him. I represented change, independence, control, power, and I represented what she wanted. After tonight, Imalta would be the goddess of her own life.
Her husband gave her a choice: leave with him or stay with me.
She said, "I am a star. Tonight is about me, and if you want to go, then go, but I am staying."
He looked at me, like it was my fault. I told him, “Hey, I do not want to come between you and your wife.” I suggested Imalta go with him.
He surprised me with his answer: "It is not about you. It is about us and if she wants what you have to offer, more than the love I can give." He walked away, sad and alone.
Imalta and I were alone. With her husband out the way, it would be easier to take advantage of her. I spoke with a soft, concerned voice, “Imalta, I respect you so much. The average women would have given in, but you have such a strong spirit. Religious men and women are always trying to hold woman like you back with their values. Who are they to tell anyone how to live or how they should feel. Your new image requires you to leave all you know behind and embrace a life with no limits.
“Old friends that don't agree with the new you, have to go. Religions that teach woman to be humble, meek, kind, loving and obedient to their husbands have to go. You can make your own money, call your own shots, and crush anyone that tries to hold you back. It is survival of the fittest.”
A year later, Imalta was divorced, had a new job as VP of marketing, and we were living together. We moved in together after I told her my image consulting business was not doing well. The truth was, my real business was living off of foolish woman and she was by far my biggest fool. Imalta went through an ugly divorce. She fought her husband tooth and nail for everything. She wanted it all plus half of his check each week. She got more than half of the property, but she did not get any of his pay check.
During the first year with Imalta, life was great: I told her how great she was, rubbed her feet when she came home from work, listened to her talk about her job, and did what she asked sometimes. She was happy when she thought the world revolved around her.
Imalta was a beast at work. She walked over co-workers, lied, cheated, stole, and was just plain dirty. She even had me sleep with her boss “Alabme” to help her get promoted. I did not want to do it, but the more Imalta made, the better life was for me. Imalta seemed not to mind as long as I told her she was a better lover.
The second year, things started getting rough. Her bad behavior came back to haunt her. When she needed moral support, she called old friends and they wouldn’t help her. I think they would have helped her, if she would have apologized. Imalta had too much pride to apologize and I do not think she was sorry about the way she treated them. She was getting hard to live with and it was time to end the relationship.
I thought long and hard to come up with the perfect plan to relieve myself of Imalta and Alabme, her former boss. Alabme was married. She was an ugly woman inside and out with five kids and a drunk for a husband. She called me from time to time, wanting to have sex and get back at Imalta. Imalta blackmailed her with our affair to get her VP position with the company. I was going to make sure Alabme got her revenge on Imalta and I would reward Alabme with the same evil I planned for Imalta.
Imalta and Alabme were ruthless cheats: they both put what they wanted first. Imalta ditched her husband for dreams of success and to have things her way. She left all her real friends for fake friends like Alabme and me. Alabme ignored her husband and children for success and nights with a strange lover—me. Both women were filled with the pride of life, and they felt that life was all about them.
My plan was to have a dinner in honor of Imalta, and I invited Alabme. I would tell Alabme, that the dinner was secretly for her, and a chance to get back at Imalta. On the other hand, I told Imalta that Alabme was coming to apologize for not respecting her like she should. I was using their own pride to help execute my perfect plan, and do away with both women at the same time.
Their desires and pride allowed me to pimp both of them. I had both of them hide money in offshore accounts in my name. They both were cheating the company using fake accounts that customers would pay fake service charges to. Both accounts were filled with money. Imalta and Alabme were my whores and it was time for them to pay up.
One night while sleeping with Alabme, I invited her to Friday night dinner at Imalta’s and my place. I told her, “Imalta’s favorite dish is spicy flounder with white wine. Make sure you cook it with shrimp and crab in the same pot. Imalta is allergic to shell fish and it will make her sick. This will be your revenge on Imalta for thinking she is better than you, when we both know you are better than her.”
Alabme loved the idea and agreed to bring her hot fishy plate of revenge to dinner.
I asked Alabme if she was allergic to anything so I could make sure I didn’t cook anything that would make her sick. She told me five different things—the one thing that stood out in my mind was peanuts. I now knew what to tell Imalta to put in the dish she would make for dinner.
One night while sleeping with Imalta, I told her hush puppies would go nice with the spicy flounder Alabme was bringing to dinner. She was insulted by my suggestion and felt that eating hush puppies with white wine was dumb. She proposed fried rice cooked with peanut oil. I told her Alabme might be allergic to peanuts, and she said, “This dinner is for me, and I want fried rice cooked with peanut oil. If Alabme is allergic to peanuts we will know after she eats. It serves her right for talking behind my back.”
I told her she was right and we agreed not to tell her about the peanut oil.
***
The night of the dinner I set the tone with candlelight, soft music, and the best white wine I could find. Imalta cooked her dish of selfishness with lots of peanut oil. Alabme arrived with her dish of secret revenge mixed with shell fish. This dinner was about two silly women taken by their own lust, and the pride of life. My plan was going along flawlessly, and by the end of the night, I would be rich.
I told each lady to sit at opposite ends of the table, and I prepared their plates as they sipped on white wine. They were like dumb sheep before the wolf, not knowing the danger around about them. They both smiled at me and I smiled back at them, gently bobbing my head to the music. I told them, “Let us take a moment to pray, and then enjoy the dishes you both prepared for each other.”
Alabme started to choke first. She went for her purse. Imalta grabbed it, pulled out Alabme's medication and started laughing. Imalta looked at me, smiling, and then sipped some of her wine. Imalta started to hand Alabme her medication, but I grabbed it and threw it out the window. Alabme pointed at me with bulging eyes and while gasping for air on the floor. Imalta yelled at me, “Are you crazy? She needs our help or she will die.”
In some strange way, it seemed Imalta cared about Alabme and felt sorry about what she had done. Imalta started choking. The revenge-filled dish Alabme had made for her started to take effect. I believe Imalta would have helped Alabme if she could, but now Imalta was slowly fading away.
She looked at Alabme (a.k.a. “All About Me”) and looked at me. She asked me why. I told Imalta (a.k.a “I Am All That”), “I am a snake and snakes bite.”
She looked confused, clearly not understanding what I meant. She died full of pride; ignorant, that she was in the arms of the enemy and that she was the greatest cause of her own death.
The blade swings left. The blade swings right. Deceit is a blade which cuts deeper than a knife—the blade of deceit cuts to the soul. I, Tevlone (a.k.a The Evil One), am king of deceit and the pimp of foolish woman.
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