The Caress of Gamaliel

"Me?" The Driver asks with mock innocence, "Why, you don't have to worry about me. But if it makes you feel better, I work for the same entity that Loretta works for." You can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, as if he's hunting at something one of you may know.

"But enough about that; I have some questions for Laurent. Laurent, my dear, can you tell me if you also gave up something to Loretta? Did you have to give her a lock of your hair like Sanora did, or perhaps she made you kiss something ugly and bitter tasting?"

"So it was Loretta who sent you to fetch us," Laurent says to the driver. "That explains sweet Sanora and me, but Yves?" He raises an eyebrow as he turns to his lover. "Don't tell me you're working for her as well. I know your whole profession is depraved and perverted, but I wouldn't have expected that. Maybe from some of the others, but not from you."

He then turns his attention back to the driver. "Come on, if you want to impress me, you need to do better than that. You already told us you work for Loretta. It's not a miracle that you would know what she told me to do." He's playing it cool but the memory still makes Laurent gag. Going down on all fours in front of the porn queen to kiss her boots as proof of loyalty hadn't been an expected demand but it had seemed like no big deal, compared to the contract Laurent would score in exchange. At least until he had tasted them. He still prays to the god he doesn't believe in that he would never have to find out what he had tasted on those boots. But rather than show those feelings, he makes himself laugh. "Come on, ask me something else. Something less obvious."

The Driver laughs, "Ha ha ha! Finally someone is getting into the spirit of things, and not acting like cowering little kittens."

The limousine turns into another street, and expensive houses pass by. "But to answer your question, yes, we are headed to Loretta's party. Each of you has a desire to see her, do you not? And speaking of Loretta, tell me my beautiful Laurent, do you believe in Loretta's goal of making porn so good that it is no longer porn? Porn so good that is is art? Can porn be art? Can art be porn?

Can porn challenge our perception of art?"

"Porn so good that it is no longer porn?" Laurent repeats. "You're acting like there's something wrong with porn. Might be you're in the wrong business." His hand runs over Sanora's thigh again and comes to rest near her knee. "I know porn can be art. I know I have created art for Loretta. Art, but not yet perfection." He licks his lips. "But I'm not done yet." He lets his eyes flicker to the screen, to the photos of him and Yves. They're beautiful, real in a way that his art isn't. But they're also mundane. A newspaper photo of a burning house compared to the Great Fire of London that is his real art. "But once I deliver my magnum opus, I'll make sure Loretta sends you a copy."

His fists curl up into balls, knuckles turning white as the medal in his hand leaves a mark. "My interest is to keep my daughter from doing any more stupid things", at the mention of porn as a form of art, he sneers.

"That is what we like to hear, Laurent," the driver says, and you can almost hear the smile in their voice.

The flat screen switches over to an opinion article on an entertainment news website. The article is instantly recognizable by Laurent - it's his own article that he wrote recently.

"This is a piece I particularly enjoyed, Laurent. It speaks of challenging our perceptions, and of destructive forces in art. It speaks of how things must be broken in order to be beautiful.

Sanora, my dear? How do you feel about that? Do those words seem familiar to you? Didn't your stalker also tell you that you must be broken in order to be made more beautiful? Do you think he wrote that before or after this article was published? Difficult to tell, is it not?"

"Excuse me daddy. I am not doing anything stupid at all. It's fun, but most of all, it's good money. Which I kinda need, since... well..."

Porn? Art? Who cared? As long as the movies paid for her living the easy way, she was happy enough to do them. Switch off emotion and feeling for an afternoon. Wasn't that like any job? Really, what was the difference compared to the lady at the clothing store, just lying everytime "no, madam, that dress doesn't make you look fat at all"?

Then the article flips up. Sarona reads the words. She recalls that the driver had mentioned them a few times earlier, also in connection to Laurent.

"Great..." she eyes Laurent again. "What's your deal really? All that screwing around with my dad, how did you even have enough left to fill up that jar?"

Laurent sighs at the driver's words. "Stalker is such a negative word," he says. "So derogatory. You don't call the man who goes into a museum every day to look at a specific painting a stalker. You call him an admirer." His hand is still on Sanora's thigh as he speaks. "Maybe a lover."

The actress' question makes him chuckle, though he doesn't actually answer it. "You liked my gift? I wonder what you did with it. Did you drink it?"

"Ah, yes, the jar of semen. Was that supposed to represent the same Carnal Ugliness as written in the article, Laurent? Did going through her clothing challenge the notion of nearness?

Speaking of nearness, suppose this limousine became too near one of these pedestrians. Say, the handsome older black man in a suit or the girl in a cheerleader’s outfit. Suppose this limousine challenged their notions of aliveness. Who should it challenge, Laurent? Who should it challenge?"

Then, almost beyond comprehension, everything seems to stand still in time, as the universe awaits for Laurent's answer.

Laurent turns to get a good look at the two people the driver is talking about. "What's going on?" he tries to ask as he realizes the strange stop in the flow of time, but he can't get the words out in this state. In the frozen movement of the world, he quickly realizes that this is more than just a hypothetical. That this might be a real decision he has to make, so his eyes take a long time to inspect the two potential victims of the car. He licks his lips as an idea plays in his head. The limousine colliding with the body of the young girl, breaking bones, smashing cartilage, moving on uncaringly and leaving her behind, broken but alive. Transformed. "You know my answer," he then says.

Time lurches forward again, almost leaving butterflies in Laurent's stomach as the limousine hits the young woman. Her body breaks with an audible crack that reverberates through the vehicle.

(Let's have a Keep it Together roll for Laurent, plus anyone else who feels it's appropriate).

"Ha ha ha!" The driver exclaims with honest joy, "That was so much fun it almost challenged my perception of fun!

"What an excellent choice, Laurent! She was a struggling single mom who worked three jobs and several side hustles to keep her kids fed and in school. The older man is wanted for things he did in the Rwandan Civil war, as well as sacrifices to Gamaliel and other horrible things."

The response to Laurent's words comes quickly and in the form of a loud cracking sound and a shake of the vehicle. Laurent licks his lips again. He turns to look back and tries to get a look at the woman's body. "If she needs money, maybe Loretta can employ her after this," he suggests, still hoping she survived the crash. "I would love to get a chance to work with her."

"Silence, you have no idea what you're talking about", he interrupts his child, "we taught you better than to be whore yourself for money".
He looks at Laurent, affection slowly turning into something else, something darker, but there's a name he catches upon. He silently mumurs a prayer, both for himself and the woman they just trampled, but a name interrupts his thoughts.
"Gamaliel? Who's that"

"Money?" Sarona says, frowning at her dad. "Maybe if you'd just give me the money which is actually mine, I wouldn't have to take jobs likes these..."

Then she looks at the car heading to the cheerleader...

"Holy shit! Stop it! You freak!" she yells that the driver in panic. "What did all these people ever do to you!?"

"Now we shall enter the part of the trip where you shall ask questions of me," The Driver announces.

The limousine turns again and you find yourself driving through some sprawling southeast Asian city. The traffic swerves violently, and the Driver slams on the horn. Faces press against the windows, trying to look into the car. "Driving must challenge our perception of driving." The Driver laughs.

"Gamaliel? Who's that" Yves inquires.

"Oh, I think you know who Gamaliel is, Yves. Why don't you explain that- The Driver starts, but their answer is interrupted by something banging loudly from the trunk.

THUMP. BANG. THUMP.

"Shut up back there!" The Driver yells, anger clear in their voice.

"What did all these people ever do to you!?" Sanora screams.

"These people did not do anyth-" And again the driver is interrupted by something banging against the inside of the trunk.

BANG. THUMP. BANG.

"I SAID SHUT UP! The Driver screams.

"I'm sorry. He just gets so anxious sometimes. Are there any more questions?" The Driver says sweetly.

"Well," Laurent laughs. "One question should be fairly obvious. Who the fuck is that back there in the trunk?" He looks between his two fellow passengers, trying to come up with someone who might be connected to all of them - aside from Loretta - but he comes up empty. Then again, before he got into this car, he didn't even know his two lovers were father and daughter, so clearly, there are many things he does not know about them. "Also, what's in your pants? Not that I mind either way, but I just like to know. And I think we're past the point of politeness."

Sarona just sits, looking through the read window, in shock at the remains of the cheerleader as they fade from view with the car moving on.

"What games are you playing, driver? What do you want from all of us?" she tries to demand, but squeeks a bit as she sits up straight again.