Raoul walked into the projector room. It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness.
‘Hey Sid, Does it hurt to keep the lights on?’ bawled Raoul in a mock, sing-song voice.
‘Hey Sid, Does it hurt to keep the lights on?’ bawled Raoul in a mock, sing-song voice.
Silence.
The status light on the projector blinked green, as it remained in standby mode.
“I guess only my self-esteem got hurt- thank God no one saw me bellowing to an empty room. Damn You Sid!” Raoul murmured to himself in the same sing-song voice. He liked talking to himself- it gave him that extra pep on an otherwise mundane Monday.
He pressed the ON button on the Projector remote. It was a dual projection system- the two screens placed side by side suddenly brought the dark room back to life.
“And suddenly there was light…” he winked to himself with a sense of self-accomplishment.
Over the next thirty seconds, Raoul stood stupefied and tongue-tied. No words. No Sing-song gibberish.
Sheer Beauty always fit a silencer in his throat.
There were pictures of two women, side by side, on the two screens ahead of him.
The two women were as different and as alike as chalk and cheese could be. The one on the left was Anne Mirabelle: she was in her late forties – a bewitching, ‘chipped’ chalk, drawing irresistible patterns on Raoul’s mind- canvas. The one on the right was Rubelle: she was a stunning 19 year old – as invigorating as fresh cheese straight out of its first curdle.
The 19 year old Rubelle wore a white summer dress and looked like a fresh breath of air ready to take on the stench of the big, bad world. Her jet black, stray hair looked like charcoal art on a beatific face, her eyes a thousand rays of the sun’s first rays. Her full breasts were ripe and ready to pick, Raoul thought her shirt buttons to be his worst enemy for the moment. Her angelic face gave her a baby-cherry-like, cherubic glow – now, Raoul would rip open his shirt buttons to cradle that face in a father-like, protective gesture.
“It’s getting hot in here. Let’s take off all our clothes,” whistled Raoul to a bunch of non-existent guys in the background, as though he needed to force his plane off this romantic runway.
He turned to the woman on the right.
Anne Mirabelle stood there in complete contrast, as though her forty something years towered in utter defiance of the younger woman at her side. Her breasts were flat, non-existent- which gave Raoul the ‘chipped’- chalk- first- impression, but her strong and sensuous heart in that sturdy frame lent her a prolific sexiness. She looked every inch like a queen of the Immortals- like she’d weathered the toughest storms, fought the worst battles and braved all the biting bitching, and still managed to emerge a fiercely loved and staunchly respected woman. Her ear-cropped, copper-brown hair stood gelled and styled and her eyes were an open assault on the senses.
“Wine and women, the older they get, the more they have in common” said Raoul with eyes in slits.
“You’re talking to the Dating hotline 143-280-143. Which of these two women are you going to date, Sir?” Sid broke into the room with a laugh.
‘Sid, where the hell have you been?’
‘Well, you need to choose one, not me. So, I buzzed off. So, who’s the lucky one?’
‘Both of them are irresistible in their own ways. But, if you ask me, I think we have a clear winner. I’ve always had my list of corroborative conditions and my instinctive preferences. So I think I’ll go for Anne Mirabelle.”
“I knew you’d go for Anne Mirabelle. She’s the perfect choice. I got to call and let her know.”
“No, I’ll let her know myself. I will be presenting the entire Publicity Campaign of her book, ‘ABC (A Breast Cancer)-THE ALPHABET OF A BOOBLESS WOMAN’ to her today. This sensational, gutsy photo of forty-eight old Anna Mirabelle will inspire and attract women and men of all generations; it represents, in all its strength and sensuality, the Iron-Maiden who LOST it all to breast cancer, but who still came out WINNING and LAUGHING all the way.”
ANNA MIRABELLE is the Editor in Chief of PARADE, an international Fashion Magazine. In her earlier days as a model, she was known by another name – RUBELLE. After many years, as a model, fashion journalist and editorial assistant, she progressed to become ANNA MIRABELLE, Editor-in-Chief of PARADE. Her battle with Breast Cancer in recent times, followed by double mastectomy (losing both her breasts) has given ANNA a new lease of life. She shares her life- with all its ups and downs, in twenty profound and rib-tickling chapters, in her first book – ‘ABC (A Breast Cancer)-THE ALPHABET OF A BOOBLESS WOMAN’. This book is said to be a sure shot best-seller, with its sober, frank and completely ribald take on women, men, boobs, sex, cancer and much more.
Raoul is hired as Anna Mirabelle’s book publicist, and he is to choose the picture of Anna Mirabelle that would appear in her publicity Campaign, which starts a,year before the actual publishing date. He chooses the Anna of today, as opposed to the Anna 29 years ago.( aka Rubelle )
p.s.:
This entire post, including the book, is a figment of my imagination.
Don't go hunting for the book.
:)
