Heller's Regret (37 page)

“Hard to know if he’s just bullshitting or
truly believes that rubbish.”

“One thing for sure – I’ll be keeping a very
close eye on him.”

“That will be two of us doing the same.”

Chapter 27

First to speak, Griffin virtually repeated
verbatim what he’d said in his keynote speech. He offered no new
insights into his logic about why girls should value their
virginity more than boys, but ramped up his rhetoric to almost
feverish levels. I badly wanted someone to heckle him, but in this
hall he was preaching to the converted.

The audience didn’t seem to care about his
mindless repetition or gross hypocrisy though, carried away in
their enthusiasm for his message. Fired up with the righteousness
of his argument, it was always going to be a tough gig for Malefic
to follow, though he gave it his best shot.

He stood at the lectern, his eyes closed,
head slightly back, his black hair blowing gently in the breeze
created by the overhead fans. “Writhing, naked bodies, slick with
sweat and exertion, surrendering free will to the pleasures of the
body, touching, tasting, licking, exploring, feeling the damp
wetness of every hole, filling them with lips and fingers and
tongues, gliding hardness through soft, yielding flesh until the
final moment of rapture and ecstasy, prolonging it, prolonging it,
until release is no longer an option but a necessity, the spilling
of the essence a sacrifice to Asmodeus, debaser of human desire,
promoter of lust.” He opened his eyes and looked around the silent
hall, every person’s attention fixed on him. “That, ladies and
gentlemen, is why I love fucking.”

The hall full of people sharply inhaled as
one, gasping in shock at his blunt crudity.

“There’s no need for such vile language,”
spluttered Griffin, jumping to his feet in outrage.

“But that’s why we’re here, is it not? To
debate the merits of fucking?”

Griffin appealed to the horror-stricken
organisers. “I refuse to carry on a debate with someone who resorts
to indecent language like this man has.”

“Mr Malefic, please refrain from cursing in
this debate,” begged a desperate Tom, seeing a key attraction in
his carefully planned program crumbling away to disaster.

“But of course, if you insist.” Malefic bowed
ironically to Tom and Griffin, who was appeased enough to take to
his seat again, if not to wipe the petulant expression from his
face. “My apologies,” he said to the attendees. “I seemed to have
misjudged my audience.”

“He must have realised the fuss that opening
was going to cause,” I whispered to Farrell. “He’s such a
shit-stirrer.”

“I thought it was just getting interesting,”
whispered back Farrell.

“You have very dubious taste, Hugh.”

“I know. That’s why I like you.”

I elbowed him lightly in the arm and settled
back to listen to Malefic. Unperturbed by his reprimand, that man
continued his opening speech, a surprisingly lucid and rational
argument. In my opinion, he certainly blew Griffin out of the
water, not that the audience would agree.

Griffin’s rebuttal was perfunctory,
repetitive and banal, not landing any hard punches. It surprised me
that Tom and Miriam couldn’t find a speaker with better arguments
and credentials than him.

Malefic’s rebuttal was smooth, but brief,
illuminating the weaknesses and contradictions of Griffin’s speech
with a politeness that verged on cruelty at times. Griffin sat on
stage, slowly turning red. He may not have been a subtle man by
nature, but he understood when someone was making fun of him. It
didn’t sit well with his high opinion of himself.

The debaters were allowed a bit of free
discussion with each other while still on stage. Griffin took a
predictable path, disparaging Malefic’s morality, his appearance,
his earlier profanity, his lateness, and his group of supporters,
who he described as “ghoulish mimickers of their master”.

Malefic sat impassively through the tirade,
jotting down a few notes that may have just been doodles. When it
came to his turn to speak, his comments were very benign.

“Griffin, I’ve looked at your website and
it’s impressive. Congratulations. It’s hard to find a nice balance
between aesthetics and necessary information on many sites these
days.” He addressed the audience. “Folks, if you haven’t yet, I
would strongly recommend visiting Griffin’s website.”

“Thank you, Mr Malefic. My daughter was
responsible for much of it. She’s a professional website
designer.”

“That professional touch shines through.
Again, congratulations on such a fine job.”

“What’s he up to?” I asked Farrell in a low
voice.

“Who knows,” he replied. “Luring Griffin into
a false sense of security?”

Malefic continued. “From the information on
your website, I gather that you do many school and community group
visits to discuss the pro-virginity movement.”

“Yes,” Griffin affirmed, though a little more
wary about where this was heading.

“Do you also do many of these debates?”

“Yes. I do many visits and debates. I’m quite
in demand as a speaker.”

“I can see I’ve met my match today in a man
who does a lot of these debates. I’m quite the novice in comparison
to you.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. As I said, I’ve
done many, many debates.”

“This is quite a large audience today, about
a thousand attendees I believe?”
Minus two
, I thought,
thinking of Old Dude and Ms Lusty. “Have you debated to larger
audiences?”

“Oh yes. I’ve been on television, so I’ve
debated to an audience of millions.”

“Millions?” Malefic’s eyebrows shot up high.
“Imagine my thinking I’d have a chance against a person who’s
debated to masses of people like you. I can only hope one day to
also be as skilled a mass debater as you.”

“Thank you again, Mr Malefic. So kind of you.
I don’t like to brag, but to borrow your term, I
would
describe myself as a very experienced mass debater, and I’d be more
than glad to give you advice on the finer techniques any day.”

A faint smile of satisfaction on his face,
Malefic rose and bowed towards Griffin, the audience and the
organisers. “Thanks for this enjoyable debate. Enjoy the rest of
the program.” He stepped down, swallowed up by his acolytes,
sweeping past everyone to the foyer.

“Now
that
was classic,” I laughed.

“He reeled him in hook, line and sinker,”
Farrell agreed, a whole half-smile on his mouth.

Titters spread throughout the members of the
audience, leaving Griffin sitting alone on the stage growing
increasingly puzzled by their mirth. The very moment a light bulb
went on in his brain was evident in his sudden leap from the chair,
his nostrils flaring as he pointed towards the doorway. “That man .
. .” he spluttered. “That despicable, foul man has made a laughing
stock of me.”

Tom rushed on stage, making every attempt to
soothe his ruffled feathers. “I’m so sorry, Griffin. We’ve never
had anything like this happen before.”

“Let go of me,” he shouted in Tom’s face,
kicking Malefic’s recently vacated chair over on its side. He
pushed Tom away and stormed off the stage, heading for the doorway.
“I’ll make him apologise even if I have to thump it out of
him.”

“Uh oh,” I said, moving to the door, Farrell
ahead of me.

Malefic had unwisely hung around instead of
taking advantage of his lead to leg it. He’d had his fun, so why
would he hang around for the inevitable consequences?

“You!” yelled Griffin. “You . . . you
butthead.”

“Careful with those obscenities, Griffin,”
Malefic taunted. “We wouldn’t want any of the old biddies to
faint.”

“You made a fool of me.”

“I believe you did that all by yourself, you
empty braggart.”

“I have achieved more in a month than you
will ever achieve in a lifetime, you peacock.”

“Are you sure of that? I’ve learned a lot
from my Masters.”

Griffin butted toes with him, eye to eye.
Malefic didn’t flinch at all. Instead, he placed his hand on the
older man’s shoulder and muttered some archaic words, his eyes
glued to Griffin’s the entire time.

A shiver ran up my spine as he did. Memories
of similar mutterings when he’d touched me reminded me of the
feelings he’d evoked during that experience.

Griffin swayed in place, his eyes fluttering
half-shut.

“What are you doing to him?” asked an alarmed
Miriam, shouldering her way through the crowd thronging in the
doorway, curious about the showdown.

Malefic didn’t respond, all his concentration
on his incantation, or whatever he called it. When he released his
grip, Griffin shook his head, dazed. He held out his hand.

“Excellent debate, Mr Malefic. I enjoyed
every minute of it and look forward to opposing you again one day,”
he said with non-forced jollity.

Malefic shook his hand heartily. “I do too,
Griffin. I really do.”

Now happy, Griffin thanked the stunned
organisers, signed a few autographs and left, pleased with how
things had turned out.

“That’s so creepy,” I said to Farrell.

“He just hypnotised him. The mumbo jumbo is
simply for show, Chalmers. Don’t get suckered in by him.”

“You think it’s just hypnosis?”

“Yep. Watch him when he does it again. He
stares into his subject’s eyes the whole time. He’s a gifted
hypnotist though. He should have made better use of his natural
talent and become a psychologist or something similar. Someone who
can provide therapeutic help to people, not just bend them to his
will.”

“Wow. That’s really enlightening, Hugh.” I
thought for a moment. “But he doesn’t give them any instructions
like you see hypnotists doing on TV.”

“That’s the thing I can’t figure out. It’s
almost as if he’s communicating with his victims via some kind of
telepathy, except he’s not picking up their thoughts, he’s
transmitting to them instead.”

“Well, however he’s doing it, it’s clear
we’re not dealing with an ordinary person.”

“No,” Farrell agreed. “One thing he’s not is
ordinary.”

“Afternoon tea,” Miriam announced weakly,
looking as though she needed a good lie down and a couple of
painkillers. Harriet held her head as she nodded, sharing in
Miriam’s headache woes.

Malefic seemed in no hurry to leave. Farrell
and I exchanged glances when a crowd of young ladies surrounded
him, asking questions. He sipped a cup of coffee, smiling
mysteriously and only answering every second question, leaving them
giggling.

“What is it with women and guys who are bad
for them,” grumbled Farrell. “Can’t those girls see those creepy
spectres standing behind him? Is that what they want for their
future? I bet it’s not what their parents want.”

“It’s the eternal allure of the forbidden or
the shocking. They’ll grow out of it when they realise a lot of bad
boys are just selfish arseholes.”

“That include Heller?”

I lowered my eyes, so he couldn’t read them.
“He’s not perfect.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s
none of my business.”

“No, it’s not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not
interested in what other people think of him. I’ll make up my own
mind based on my experience.”

“You know a side of him nobody else in the
business does.”

“Exactly. He’s not always a cold
hardarse.”

“Is he treating you well? That’s all I care
about.”

I looked at my boots again. He was far too
perceptive for me to feel relaxed about discussing my relationship
with Heller with him face to face. I nodded in response, but
thoroughly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, I
mumbled something about needing the bathroom and fled.

I splashed my face, berating myself for
running away again. There came a time in a woman’s life when she
couldn’t avoid difficult or painful subjects any longer. I was
rapidly reaching that point in mine, perhaps precipitated by Dad’s
death. I’d always acknowledged that I was somewhat of an emotional
coward, not willing to deal with certain issues in my life. But I’d
begun to realise that if I never really questioned myself, how
would I ever grow and become a better person?

It wasn’t really the time or place to become
so philosophical. I splashed my face again, told myself to harden
up and rejoined Farrell.

The dinging of the bell advised the attendees
it was time to reconvene for the final breakout session for the
day. Malefic’s new fan club didn’t budge, standing around him,
hanging on his every wanky word.

“Ladies,” I said to them. “Time to go back
inside. Say goodbye to Malefic.”

“But we don’t want to,” pouted one of the
teens. “This conference is boring.”

“There’s another breakout session on next.
They’re always interesting,” I lied.

“No, they’re not. They’re all for old people
like you,” said another young lady.

I gave her a tight smile – I must be a whole
decade older than her. I tried to herd the unwilling group to
safety inside the hall, away from the virgin-hunter. “I’m sure your
parents would disagree. This conference wasn’t cheap and you
shouldn’t waste their money.”

“We won’t tell them if you don’t,” said the
first madam, the leader of the group.

“You heard my colleague, ladies,” instructed
Farrell in a no-nonsense voice. “Time to go inside again.”

“Make us,” dared that same bold teen, drawing
appreciative giggles from her mates. She glanced up at Malefic,
rewarded for her cheekiness by him bestowing the suggestion of a
benevolent smile on her.

“If I have to pick you up one by one and
carry you inside, I will.”

“Touch us and we’ll scream,” threatened our
young headache to more sniggers. What was more painful than dealing
with a smartarse teen determined to show off in front of an older
man and her friends?