ACDC-154 Crossing The Line

Excerpt

Bobby runs his hands up and down the firm contours of his smoothly shaved legs.

He also runs them all around his inguinal area which, in a whimsical extension of the shaving process, he has also shorn of its curls, the bareness serving to emphasize the floppy massiveness of his heavy equipment.

He looks at himself in the full-length mirror now, gaining the full impression of this, the raw foundation of another image, a masterpiece soon to be.

Because he wishes to remember, to be able to recall, step by step, exactly how he has managed to create that which is to come.

A methodology, a key to acquiring the power to compel the attention, the desire of others, the power to invade the minds of others, there to implant an image that just won’t quit.

Yes, he can see it all now.

The men, seeing him, or rather the image he projects.

And carrying that image around with them, more a part of them now than their good luck medals or their wristwatches, with them day and night, now in the foreground, now in the back of their minds, awaiting recall.

And recall will surely come.

Because their wives, their girlfriends cannot compete with the ideal, the perfect…

So that he and she both will be fucking with their eyes closed, the woman because that is the way women fuck, most of them, he because, on the viewscreen of his mind, it is Bobby’s image he will be summoning, realizing it—making it real-so that, just this once, he will know perfection in the saddle.

Ah, yes, just once.

So he will tell himself, indulging himself in this most minor, if most common, form of infidelity.

Just this once.

But then again and again, perhaps that very night, perhaps other nights.

Until, as they say, practice makes perfect.

Because he will have gained a mighty secret, in the form of a new technique, a new potency, a new staying power.

Which is, will be, the re-discovery of a basic truth.

It’s all in the mind, all in the images.