MK Lukman: "The Mysterious Woman", Part 2. Excerpts of Chapter 1 (PIERCING EYES).

PIERCING EYES (a compellingly romantic, suspenseful, poignant novel) comprises 35 chapters, a preface, preamble, prologue, and an epilogue. Copyright 2009 by MK Lukman. All Rights Reserved! Hardcover-edition: 6-1/2" w x 9-1/2" h x 1-1/2" d. List-price: $29.95 (USA); $35.65 (Canada); ~$59.90 (Barbados). ISBN: 978-0-9602660-2-9. Library of Congress Control Number: 2009902296. Page-length: ~675; avrem_group@ yahoo.com Disclaimer: "This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and/or territories (mentioned herein) are products of the author's imagination; and, thus, are used only fictitiously in the entire novel, including the following excerpt. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, and/or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental. This is a work of parody, as defined by the Fair Use Doctrine. Any similarities, without satirical intent, to copyrighted characters, and/or individuals (living or dead) are purely coincidental." Provided by Avrem Enterprises Group, Inc.: the publisher. Text: Feeling particularly encouraged, “PJ” began to reflect on a number of interesting prospects: a short trip to Boston, Massachusetts; a one-week holiday in Europe: Paris, London, and Berlin; tie up some last-minute loose ends; an audience with two or three members of Alimnosam’s executive board—and its human resources department—so as to consolidate some rather minute details of his corporate application-process. He admired the hero-like roles of men who wielded a great deal of power—in politics, law, and economics! He was passionate, and determined; a sort of visionary, with a good deal of patience and humility as well as very strong, inter-cultural sensitivity. He'd always felt that the business-world was his utmost calling. Nothing else! Once again, he was thrust there: in that 'all-too-familiar' place where only he could psychically prostrate himself as if he were lying, in the still of the night, on his lush queen-sized bed; gazing up—with the fingers of both hands tightly interlaced beneath his nape— at the high vaulted-ceiling in his Greenwich Village sixth-floor pied-à-terre, reflecting on the stunning woman whom he'd recently met on CPW; obliquely and modestly obscuring her exotic beauty beneath a partially revealing, blue shawl as though she were a rigidly orthodox, Islamic convert.   'How quaint'! Others must have curiously wondered—with a passing glance. Night and day, "PJ" repeatedly thought of her; fantasizing of the possibilities—courtship, engagement, marriage, family, a beautiful home—a mansion, even! Nonetheless, he untiringly practised his proposal; a sort of dress-rehearsal for asking her out on a dinner-date. How simple! Yet difficult, it seemed; coming from a man, whose 'game'—in the environs of Vanbergen and mostly elsewhere—was generally 'off the hook'. Somewhat unsure of himself, his ambivalence—albeit stressfully peculiar for someone of his seeming maturity and intellect—increasingly exacerbated his angst; causing him gut-wrenching discomfort.     He even rationalised that … 'the time was not right' … 'he should wait, a while longer' … 'it wasn’t God’s will' … 'she might've already bin spoken for'! He was, thus, so badly torn; he could hardly think straight! Beverley had unwittingly consumed much of his time. It was as if “PJ’s” imagination were no longer his; but hers! That was the kind of effect that 'the mysterious woman' had had on him. And he hadn't, yet, gotten to 'first base'! "Gawwd, yuh know! I think … we met before! Haven’t we?" He muttered in a whispering tone of voice; imagining what he'd say to her if they met again. No contact-details—from, or about, her—could be readily found! He was, thus, beside himself in that he'd lost—what he thought was—a 'chance-of-a-lifetime' to finally get things right with the 'heaven-sent'  woman who'd captured his heart, and possibly his soul, in a way that no other woman had done before. 'Not so much as a surname that I could possibly use to link her to someone, or even an address! How stupid of me! What the hell was I thinking? What if she’s—'? “PJ’s” thoughts trailed off; fading into nothingness as he lay on his bed—in a state of deep and quiet calm. Not being able to see her again was more than he'd imagined!  And to make matters worst, he'd seemingly grown tired of chasing every 'bloody' skirt that he encountered; feeling a certain void afterwards that only she, he believed, could fill; a void—a virtual abyss!—that was mostly caused by his senseless womanising. And which, eventually, brought him much distress; fuelling his incentive for redemption. Back then, he thought that he was 'kool'; but soon realised, much to his chagrin, that he wasn't so 'kool' after all.   Nevertheless, "PJ" persevered; eventually finding the courage to approach her like a 'real' man—albeit with cautious reverence—in the theatre of his mind. It was there that he'd put her on a pedestal: 'his'! Yet found it excruciatingly difficult to reach her; believing that she was 'too' accomplished, 'too' classy, 'too' beautiful, and 'too' sophisticated for him: the poor boy from Vanbergen who'd aspired to incredible heights; but not high enough to woo her. How ironical!   "This is fate—God, even!—that we meet like this!"  He murmured earnestly; his thoughts ricocheting from his grey-matter like pellets from a sawn-off shotgun. Then, one day—quite unexpectedly—things began to change. It was as if the 'Universe' had motherly sensed the vibration of his deepest longing; becoming more and more auspicious towards him. 'Was it real or imagined'? He thought; questioning his sanity. And if he was to achieve anything—especially relating to them as a 'twosome'—it was there, in the thespian reaches of his imagination, that he would, first, have to make the necessary change. For him, it wasn't going to be an easy task! “He’s a hard nut to crack!” His late stepfather, Gordon, once remarked. Their relationship, even as father and son, was virtually loveless; especially on the part of Gordon, whose alcoholism, and frequent, spousal abuse—of Valerie: “PJ’s”, then, terminally ill, cancer-stricken mother—were legendary in Vanbergen. “PJ” was a little boy, then! And, indeed, more of a man than his volatile stepfather was as far as his treatment of women was concerned. His mother—lissom, quiet, soft-spoken, warm, gentle—was mostly religious, and very forgiving; even of Gordon who'd pummelled her vulnerably delicate body—sometimes with virtual impunity—for many years; venting, in the process, his own oppressive demons, which robbed him of the peace and tranquility that he'd long sought. But to no avail! Yet, somehow, "PJ" was able to find the courage to put it all behind him—even as a teenager—or so it seemed! Besides, "PJ” hardly knew his biological father; memories of whom were very scant, at best! His only role-model—even at an impressionably early age—was Gordon Walcott: a scruffy-looking, cruel, middle-aged, bombastic womaniser—“PJ’s” mother’s husband!—from whom "PJ" must've subconsciously acquired certain, unscrupulous characteristics that partly engendered a similarly volatile personality in him. And which, years later, became the crux of his relationships with women.   A whirlwind of courtship, however, would soon begin between him and Beverley; verging on a raging firestorm, and fanned by the strong currents of their burning lusts. With his considerable womanising-résumé, it would just be a matter of time before he could deflower her—insinuating himself deep within her psyche—attempting to set up permanence; whilst cleverly knocking down barriers of inhibition, and liberating her from every conceivable, sexual hang-up. In public, he'd hoped that she'd become every bit of the 'lady' that he' d imagined; but, in private—between their silky smooth, Egyptian 1500 thread-count-cotton-sheets—his 'freak'!

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