The Way We Love

I hate Business Men

You kissed me like a slow song
Then you drank from me, Manhattan on a summer's eve.
Slow and gentle like a breeze.
You made the best for me. I love you like a wordsmith,
write it all down for me.

(Paul's POV)

"Please" I begged.

The Mayor looked me over with slow meticulous green eyes. His unnaturally congested brows flourished like caterpillars as he regarded me unsympathetically.

There was something about his icy glare that I couldn't touch, it was beyond the plane of empathy and existence. It reminded me of hot volcanic lava oozing out onto the green defenseless earth. I watched his face harden as he contemplated my request.

"Do I look like a man who gives mercy?" he snarled. His overshadowing body loomed over me, making me feel small.

My mind raced, an idea coming to mind, "No, but you are a businessman, let's negotiate" I said hoping that would work.

The Mayor smiled, his stained brown teeth glistened in the unnatural lighting, "I was hoping you would say that" he snickered.

His eased into his chair like a snail, opening a pack of cigars. I watched him burn the tip of his bundled pleasure as he enjoyed the way the flames devoured the ash.

The room immediately filled with the acrid aroma of tobacco as he inhaled the dust around us.

I glanced at Figs trembling body, as he fought like a shaking leaf to not fall apart and crumble.

The truth was, I was so frightened. I was on the verge of pissing myself, but I held on to the idea of having people that depended on me. More importantly, I had a reason other than my life to fight for.

"Sit," the Mayor said politely.

My stomach churned as he tried a new tactic.

"Don't you find it curious Paul, why I have you here?" he asked in an adenoidal and brittle tone.

I said nothing, glaring at him with vengeful hate. I knew one wrong move from me, and his patience would be as thin as his troll-like lips.

"I like your spirit son, you have the soul of a killer. I see so much potential" he coughed. The rings of dark smog engulfed his lungs. I hoped he choked.

The Mayor sighed, reclining with leisure as he looked at me in a coy fashion, " I told you when we first met, I am a businessman. I'm the type of person who gets satisfaction from crushing ants and then dragging my shoes against the concrete just so I can spread their organs like butter. I am a tyrant in the business world and people are the ants" he spewed.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes.

"Why is he telling me this?" I wondered quietly.

He grabbed me with his bulky sausage fingers pulling me close enough to taste the rich tobacco on his breath, "don't ask for mercy ever again" he whispered dangerously, "be on top, so you never need it" he said sharing his life tip.

"What do you want? And how do you know my name?!" I asked demanding answers.

The Mayor shrugged, playing with the hem of his black suit. This was some sort of game, like a hunter he was studying me, searching for a weakness, something that could debilitate me. Something that would leave me limping and helpless enough for him to prowl and destroy.

"You came into my hotel a week ago. Out of kindness, I allowed you to make a living off of my scraps. Then you turn around and stab me in the back by tipping off the police. I lost seventy thousand dollars that day, and not to mention the legal trouble and felony counts those primitive low lives who called themselves the law, are trying to charge me with" he snorted.