Hostess

I hadn’t been there for a while. Sure, she’s part of me- but none-the-less a part that I must plead guilty to neglecting now and then. My alter ego. I really don’t nurture her as much as I should, you know. In a plea to get my attention she sent me an e-mail today...

“Very funny.” I said dryly as I noted the faux cobwebs hanging from the doorsill of her Virtual Salon. Squeeeek went the hinges as I swung the door inward...

“Whaddaya think this is? Halloween?” I smiled as I entered in to the darkened salon, “You don’t even need a door, you know. Doors don’t stand guard in the Virtual world. Passwords do. Where are you anyway? Garnet?”

As my eyes adjusted to the candlelit darkness, I saw her. She was dressed in a kimono. Dead silent, eyes closed, stock still, hair knotted on top of her head, and flickering light dancing on the satin sheen of the deep and vibrant colors that adorned her robe.

She bowed. She spoke. “Good evening, Carla-san”

“What have you...?” I started, and then paused as it dawned on me. “You’ve been reading...” I looked around the room. There it was on a low table. A book. I reached down and grabbed it, reading the title aloud. “Tokyo Vice: An American Reporter on the Police Beat in Japan.”

“Isn’t it great?” Garnet gushed as she snatched the book out of my hand, “Such fascinating reading! And y’know, it’s given me an idea.” she said excitedly, “That’s why I’ve summoned you here. That and the fact that you haven’t been here for so long! What in that serious world you yours demands so much attention? Anyway, pay attention to this...” Garnet’s eyes sparkled, and her voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper as she continued, “I want to start a Hostess Club! You know, like in Japan!”

“But...” I replied, quickly trying to recall what the book had to say about Japanese Hostess Clubs...

“It’s right here.” Garnet said helpfully, and, opening the book to a page that she had marked she read, “’I learned that when a Japanese man wants his ego- as opposed to his penis- stroked, when he wants to be fussed over or have someone listen to his problems, he doesn’t go home to his wife, he goes to a hostess club. It is usually a small bar with several attractive women who will greet you warmly, sit down and chat with you on a sofa, sing karaoke with you, and act as if they were your lover or flirt with you as though they want to be‘.... Next page... ‘The hostess has to maintain an illusion of availability to encourage a pseudocourtship that might someday culminate in sex. Along the way to that elusive goal... a man might blow $10,000 in a year courting a hostess, buying her drinks, giving her birthday presents, and occasionally taking her out to dinner.’”

“Doesn’t that sound perfect? And perfectly fun?” Garnet bounced up and down in her enthusiasm.

“But...” I puzzled, “What are these?” I lifted up a small wicker basket that had been sitting next to the book. It was filled with slips of paper, upon each of which something was written...

“’I owe Garnet one poem‘.” I read, casting a quizzical look at my alter-ego.

“Well, my guests can’t pay me with money... “ Garnet explained, “I couldn’t accept that. And I don’t need gifts, though birthday presents would be OK...” she added, “So what sweeter medium of exchange than literature? Poetry? A kinder, gentler form of currency, don’t you think?” not waiting for my answer, she continued, “I could make a collection, you know,” she said dreamily, “Of all the poems to be written for and about me... Doesn’t that sound heavenly?” she exclaimed.

“But...” I said.

“Stop with the ‘Buts’ already!” Garnet laughed, “First, you can post an invitation in all your blogs, and create a link. You know, the kind that gets them here. Like magic. Although...” she pondered for a second, “It’s not like magic because it is magic. Magic transportation to Garnet’s Hostess Club.” she concluded smugly.

“And you can join me, too. You’d love being a Hostess, I think, although....” she pondered for a second, “I’d probably have to get our guest to pour you a drink or two before you relaxed enough to be of any use...” she giggled.

“But...”
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