Secret Diary VIII - Painful Encounter

Secret Diary VIII - Painful Encounter

We fretted for a while about losing the shaman as a means to our shameless intrusion into Lord Roxton's inner life. Who could replace him?

Then another lucky break... An anonymous source left a note at our doorstep. A Starbucks not too far away from the elegant offices of the Fashion Plateau was the regular haunt of a writer and executive producer whose TV show was on hiatus. Hmmm... Sounded quite familiar. Guy... the guy - sorry! - had gone through a bout of depression because financial troubles had undermined the new season of his TV show. His therapist had prescribed outdoor activity instead of Prozac and our writer decided to do a little adventure trip to the Amazon. Somehow he had stumbled upon a backpack which contained several pages of a diary. A man wrote about his encounter with a Voodoo Queen... The writer felt that the material was oddly familiar, as if he had written something similar.

The man was obviously in need of someone to talk to and since I was in need of caffeination, a meeting was inevitable. Our conversation was interesting to say the least. He told me about his dreams about Voodoo Queens, about his feelings of being Trapped and that he wondered whether this writing/executive producing gig would ever resume or whether a career change - from intellectual to Outlaw - would be necesssary. I reassured him that hope springs eternal and that even if his TV show wouldn't work out after all, he could always apply for a position at the Fashion Plateau. He was quite excited until he found out that the staff positions at our magazine are all unpaid.

"I'm not an intern," he said. I replied, "Guy... or rather person whose name is unknown to me - ours isn't an average publication like the New York Times or Newsweek. Only very few are invited to grace our pages with their thoughts about fashion on the Plateau. Getting the glory and making a living is pretty easy. Get yourself a nice day job on a soap or one of those lawyer shows and devote your nights to fashion analysis."

He said he'd think about it. As for the pages from Lord Roxton's Secret Diary - I sneaked them out of his notebook, when he was getting a refill for our coffees. Yes, I've broken his trust, but would you want it any other way? I thought so...

Let's thank our lucky stars and our unknown writer/executive producer for yet another account of John Roxton's adventures, this one appropriately titled Painful Encounter.

"A man is not a camel!"

He just sometimes behaves like one...

May 15, 1921

The horror! The horror! A week of endless taunts and teases! Will it ever end?

Last night my pillow was put into a latex pillowcase. I don’t know who the prankster was, but the list of suspects is long. Marguerite of course. Veronica, her surprising partner in crime. When did these two start to get along? And – what a disappointment! – Ned Malone, who shows a complete lack of male solidarity.

All because of my unfortunate encounter with Danielle, the Voodoo Queen.

Why am I getting taunts instead of sympathy? I’m a victim after all! I was tortured, beaten, poked with a red-hot poker, abused, taken advantage of and nearly died of thirst… Do I get kind words? Pity? No. Just jokes about my taste in women.

Admittedly I should have known better than sleeping with a woman who wears latex, but as a clever man once said: A man is not a camel. Temptation comes in many forms and when you’re out there in the jungle all by yourself, you sometimes make inappropriate choices.

I agree that latex is a horrendous choice of fabric, but – a secret again – I quite liked the cut of Danielle’s dress. The contrast between black latex and white skin and the strange cleavage presentation was rather appealing in a sordid kind of way. And let’s mention that – I wasn’t the only one who was impressed with her. Ned and George found her charming as well. Of course both of them suffer from amnesia now.

I saw Ned talking with her and as I found out later, he used his old line that physical labour was all he did to keep fit. HAH! That doesn’t work with the Zanga girls anymore and I don’t think Danielle fell for it. Just to make sure I told her that our journalist spends up to three hours every two days on his abs routine. When she asked me how much time I spend on my abs, I told a little white lie and said only an hour per week. As any normal man does. I thought she was impressed with how little effort it takes for me to look good, but she just toyed with me. Women are so hard to read sometimes!

I think it’s clear that Danielle’s magical ability were the main reason why I succumbed to her dubious charms. And she was a woman in need, looking for a strong protector. It’s a natural instinct for me to help a damsel in distress. Of course she wasn’t helpless at all, as it turned out.

I haven’t told my friends the whole truth about the events in the Voodoo village. I wasn’t only subjected to torture, but also to temptations that were hard to ignore for even a strong-willed man like me. That minx understood my deepest fears and she claimed to have many potions and elixirs that could stop the dreaded aging process. A potion that completely erases crow’s feet! An abs trainer that gives you six-pack abs in only 12 minutes a day! A scalp elixir that stops hair loss and keeps that ever receding hairline in check! O the temptation! But by that time my sharp instincts had kicked in again. I knew that I had to outsmart her and get out of that village. Yes, I might loose my crow’s feet, but what good would it do if I had turned into an unfeeling zombie?

Jealousy?

Or just a woman appealing to a man's common sense?

To be honest – my little trysts with Danielle were amusing, but she wasn’t really the kind of woman that could hold my attention. When we walked to the Voodoo village, she said to me that she would keep me all to herself and not let me go back to my friends. At first I was a bit flattered by her words. She had quite a knack for entertaining a gentleman. As I said before, “A man is not a camel”, and I have needs for… entertainment… that I neglected since we arrived on the Plateau.

Miss Krux offers entertainment of that kind only in my most secret dreams. Well, she actually offered it to me in real life many months ago, when we were looking for Veronica’s parents in the fake Paradise. Fool that I was, I refused her. Never has the word ‘later’ had more unfortunate consequences. ‘Later’ turned out to be ‘too late’ and she never offered again. No wonder I fall into the arms of inappropriate jungle beauties, if I’m constantly refused by the right woman. Marguerite of all people should feel sorry for me. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that she drove me right into Danielle’s trap!

Well… A Danielle is no Marguerite and even I could see that after a while. Her eye-makeup was as exaggerated as her speech patterns and I got tired of her eventually. Not even a week and a few nookies later and all I wanted was be back in the Treehouse. I’d rather be teased by Marguerite than pleased by Danielle.

Marguerite’s strong reaction to Danielle… She denied that it was a sign of jealousy, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it was. Challenger told me that Marguerite was very worried about me, when they had figured out Danielle’s true identity. She insisted that they go after me. I like the idea of Marguerite as my protector. Beneath the tender beauty lurks an inexhaustible strength that can conquer any danger. I just hope that she will stop the teasing sooner rather than later. I don’t want to hear any more suggestions about a pair of latex pants for me. I made a mistake, but now let’s get over it!

"Crow feet no more? But at what price?"

Lord Roxton faces torture and temptation

What really matters in the Lost World - all about clothes, hair and make-up

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