Sociopathy

By Mark Fitzgerald

A vacation "in country" in the country in a country. Let me leave it at that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Fitzgerald
• Release date: Dec 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465869531

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SOCIOPATHY

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Mark Fitzgerald

Copyright 2010 by Mark Fitzgerald

Smashwords Edition

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SOCIOPATHY

It's not that I am all that unattractive. Maybe I am even attractive to some extent. I don't like my nose. Funny how the nose is the primary metric of attractiveness. A quirky chin or jaw won't disqualify you.

My nose is too big. And a little inconsistent in its orientation. It veers to one side such that I have a preferred quarter profile. That affects where I sit relative to others.

Yet I adore a strong or quirky nose in a woman. Maybe it validates me. Maybe it is just something special.

~

Of the eight, I was the least attractive. Four men and four women. Almost everyone of them beautiful or handsome beyond average. One girl, the one that appealed to me in fact, might not have been up to par. She had a quirky face. Really it was her nose. It was irregular. I liked it a lot and I like her a lot because of it.

Standing in a disorderly circle, without the benefit of having been introduced to one another we were at liberty to assess and concoct each other's back story on the basis of all we were to be privy too; physical appearance and, in due time, dialect or accent. We waited to board the bus. Nobody spoke; as instructed. We listened. To the rules. To the terms of the agreement. To the binding terms of the agreement. The agreement whereby we pledged to follows the rules in exchange for ten days of sensual indulgence and fulfillment in an exotic environment somewhere on earth. We would sup upon and quaff the most sublime food and drink the world offered. All pleasures of the flesh and the spirit were available and discretely proferred. I wondered who among us was a hippie who would spend the ten days stoned on pot and devouring munchies. That would be one of seven because was not surely not that one.

As for matters carnal. No explicit (in several senses of that word) promises had been made, but the all inclusiveness of the adventure was certainly made with no equivocation.

I am not sure why I am here. No, I know. I like to indulge. I am just not sure if my indulgences cover the entire gamut. Or if I have the balls to go there. if they do.

The other end of the deal. No one reveals anything. Anything. No names, no history, no age, no occupation... nothing personal. Everyone is to start from scratch with everyone else. You can coin a name for another but you cannot share it or address the other with it. You can express a liking for that which is presented to you but not for that which is unseen or was part of your other life.

Break the rules and you are exiled immediately. They promise to have ways to know of our fidelity.

That's it. No other rules. Play by them and you indulge like Satan would have you indulge but without sin because you ask nothing or exact nothing from another in your excesses.

~

I am hungry. Let's get this show started. First, the hoods were handed out and donned; for the last leg of the journey to wherever. I am sure not one knew where we were in general. A blindfolded bus ride would ensure we were equally oblivious to our whereabouts remotely.

It was dark already. I couldn't tell you which continent we were on as we boarded the bus. I started in New York City at JFK. I assumed the Helen Keller. My term for having my vision and hearing nullified for the duration of the trip; the agreement. I assume my escort, for the entire journey, was the woman who first met me at the Airport. MIght not have been.

As instructed we spread out on the bus; no one within a couple of rows of another. That's all I can tell you.

My next perception was that of intense sun shining through a double hung type wooden window directly onto my face. I was uncomfortably hot. I threw off the bed coverings. I was in bed. In a tiny little room. A jail cell, so to speak, but not literally. It was just tiny though. Six foot by ten foot at most. A door at one end. A dresser on the perpendicular wall and, tight against the last six foot of that wall, the twin size bed I was stretched out upon.

I don't know that I have ever seen sunlight like this. It is not like New York at anytime of the year. I don't know what time of day it is either. The sun is angled but that tells me nothing without some other frame of reference. Time of day or latitude. I think I have been asleep a long time. It could be ten oclock. It could be two oclock. It is still August. I think.

Were I not wearing underwear, I would be naked. I am wearing underwear I did not pack. My bag is on the dresser. It looks deflated. Below it, in the dresser, is a wardrobe I did not bring. Quite handsome. Unlabelled. Extremely high quality I think. Not so humiliating to don, as I did. Khakis and a golf shirt. Loafers.

The door to my room was an old style paneled