The chess player

  
Exotic glances draw you into their spell. Teasing, cuddling, supple, flirtatious breasts lean out of a festive cleavage at will, calling mainly for Alpha males: they grant the already hard-to-get permission for seduction operations.

Hands no longer grope childishly, pensively, hesitantly - but the staring, bulging eyes actually strip away the exotic glare. Amorous flirtation begins in quickened rhythms, culminating in closed-circuit cat-and-mouse battles. Open, insidious smiles keep you on a leash or off a leash: no one knows who is keeping whom on a leash? - He plays only self-discreetly, curiously portraying and looking before him, as if petty secrets had a life of their own.

When hesitant calculation sparkles on each other, insinuating pseudo-pleasures into themselves, the newest luring words of the All-enticing All-ness rise up on the cellar-lady of their primeval instincts. A single gesture can be worth a thousand betrayals, when no one is what they originally intended to be. When all the forgivable lies become one, and fuse together. When the lonely ships of the heart come ashore and find port in each other. When everything is just so, the head may buzz with the bribeable, the deluded brain may be dulled - the secret as the final solution has long since been wasted by the profiteering of the businessman.

- No one can know now where the Beginning and the End may have begun - the layers and the blood are peeled from each other's grasping gaze, willingly and perhaps generously. Past and present at once snort, grumble, and grumble, with one accord, at their rude vicegerents. The pushers and the shakers still try, but when all the games are over, the raw meat is reality!