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ere　trembling；　waiting　for　the　night；　waiting　for　that　whining　pimp　Koos　to　e　to　my　door　again；　and　take　everything　I　own　from　me　in　exchange　for　the　key　to　her　room。
　I　am　not　a　courageous　man；　and　I　never　have　been：
　so　I'm　afraid　of　what　may　happen　to　me　tonight。　But　I　cannot　go　through　life　dreaming　all　the　time；　existing　through　the　darkness　on　only　a　glimpse　of　heaven。　Sooner　or　later；　one　has　to　gird　one's　loins　（that's　appropriate）　and　get　up　and　find　it。　Even　if　it　means　giving　away　the　world　in　exchange。
　I　probably　make　no　sense。　You're　thinking；　you　who　chanced　on　this　testimony；　you're　thinking；　who　was　he；　this　imbecile？
　My　name　was　Oliver　Vassi。　I　am　now　thirty…eight　years　old。　I　was　a　lawyer；　until　a　year　or　more　ago；　when　I　began　the　search　that　ends　tonight　with　that　pimp　and　that　key　and　that　holy　of　holies。
　But　the　story　begins　more　than　a　year　ago。　It　is　many　years　since　Jacqueline　Ess　first　came　to　me。
　She　arrived　out　of　the　blue　at　my　offices；　claiming　to　be　the　widow　of　a　friend　of　mine　from　Law　School；　one　Benjamin　Ess；　and　when　I　thought　back；　I　remembered　the　face。　A　mutual　friend　who'd　been　at　the　wedding　had　shown　me　a　photograph　of　Ben　and　his　blushing　bride。　And　here　she　was；　every　bit　as　elusive　a　beauty　as　her　photograph　'promised。
　I　remember　being　acutely　embarrassed　at　that　first　interview。　She'd　arrived　at　a　busy　time；　and　I　was　up　to　my　neck　in　work。　But　I　was　so　enthralled　by　her；　I　let　all　the　day's　interviews　fall　by　the　wayside；　and　when　my　secretary　came　in　she　gave　me　one　of　her　steely　glances　as　if　to　throw　a　bucket　of　cold　water　over　me。　I　suppose　I　was　enamoured　from　the　start；　and　she　sensed　the　electric　atmosphere　in　my　office。　Me；　I　pretended　I　was　merely　being　polite　to　the　widow　of　an　old　friend。　I　didn't　like　to　think　about　passion：　it　wasn't　a　part　of　my　nature；　or　so　I　thought。　How　little　we　know　…　I　mean　really　know　…about　our　capabilities。
　Jacqueline　told　me　lies　at　that　first　meeting。　About　how　Ben　had　died　of　cancer；　of　how　often　he　had　spoken　of　me；　and　how　fondly。　I　suppose　she　could　have　told　me　the　truth　then　and　there；　and　I　would　have　lapped　it　up　…　I　believe　I　was　utterly　devoted　from　the　beginning。
　But　it's　difficult　to　remember　quite　how　and　when　interest　in　another　human　being　flares　into　something　more　mitted；　more　passionate。　It　may　be　that　I　am　inventing　the　impact　she　had　on　me　at　that　first　meeting；　simply　re…inventing　history　to　justify　my　later　excesses。　I'm　not　sure。　Anyway；　wherever　and　whenever　it　happened；　however　quickly　or　slowly；　I　succumbed　to　her；　and　the　affair　began。
　I'm　not　a　particularly　inquisitive　man　where　my　friends；　or　my　bed…partners；　are　concerned。　As　a　lawyer　one　spends　one's　time　going　through　the　dirt　of　other　people's　lives；　and　frankly；　eight　hours　a　day　of　that　is　quite　enough　for　me。　When　I'm　out　of　the　office　my　pleasure　is　in　letting　people　be。　I　don't　pry；　I　don't　dig；　I　just　take　them　on　face　value。
　Jacqueline　was　no　exception　to　this　rule。　She　was　a　woman　I　was　glad　to　have　in　my　life　whatever　the　truth　of　her　past。　She　possessed　a　marvellous　sang…froid；　she　was　witty；　bawdy；　oblique。　I　had　never　met　a　more　enchanting　woman。　It　was　none　of　my　business　how　she'd　lived　with　Ben；　what　the　marriage　had　been　like　etc。；　etc。　That　was　her　history。　I　was　happy　to　live　in　the　present；　and　let　the　past　die　its　own　death。　I　think　I　even　flattered　myself　that　whatever　pain　she　had　experienced；　I　could　help　her　forget　it。
　Certainly　her　stories　had　holes　in　them。　As　a　lawyer；　I　was　trained　to　be　eagle…eyed　where　fabrications　were　concerned；　and　however　much　I　tried　to　put　my　percep…tions　aside　I　sensed　that　she　wasn't　quite　ing　clean　with　me。　But　everyone　has　secrets：　I　knew　that。　Let　her　have　hers；　I　thought。
　Only　once　did　I　challenge　her　on　a　detail　of　her　pretended　life…story。　In　talking　about　Ben's　death；　she　let　slip　that　he　had　got　what　he　deserved。　I　asked　her　what　she　meant。　She　smiled；　that　Gioconda　smile　of　hers；　and　told　me　that　she　felt　there　was　a　balance　to　be　redressed　between　men　and　women。　I　let　the　observation　pass。　After　all；　I　was　obsessed　by　that　time；　past　all　hope　of　salvation；　whatever　argument　she　was　putting；　I　was　happy　to　concede　it。
　She　was　so　beautiful；　you　see。　Not　in　any　two　dimen…sional　sense：　she　wasn't　young；　she　wasn't　innocent；　she　didn't　have　that　pristine　symmetry　so　favoured　by　ad…men　and　photographers。　Her　face　was　plainly　that　of　a　woman　in　her　early　forties：　it　had　been　used　to　laugh　and　cry；　and　usage　leaves　its　marks。　But　she　had　a　power　to　transform　herself；　in　the　subtlest　way；　making　that　face　as　various　as　the　sky。　Early　on；　I　thought　it　was　a　make…up　trick。　But　as　we　slept　together　more　and　more；　and　I　watched　her　in　the　mornings；　sleep　in　her　eyes；　and　in　the　evenings；　heavy　with　fatigue；　I　soon　realized　she　wore　nothing　on　her　skull　but　flesh　and　blood。　What　transformed　her　was　internal：　it　was　a　trick　of　the　will。
　And；　you　know；　that　made　me　love　her　all　the　more。
　Then　one　night　I　woke　with　her　sleeping　beside　me。　We　slept　often　on　the　floor；　which　she　preferred　to　the　bed。　Beds；　she　said；　reminded　her　of　marriage。　Anyway；　that　night　she　was　lying　under　a　quilt　on　the　carpet　of　my　room；　and　I；　simply　out　of　adoration；　was　watching　her　face　in　sleep。
　If　one　has　given　oneself　utterly；　watching　the　beloved　sleep　can　be　a　vile　experience。　Perhaps　some　of　you　have　known　that　paralysis；　staring　down　at　features　closed　to　your　enquiry；　locked　away　from　you　where　you　can　never；　ever　go；　into　the　other's　mind。　As　I　say；　for　us　who　have　given　ourselves；　that　is　a　horror。　One　knows；　in　those　moments；　that　one　does　not　exist；　except　in　relation　to　that　face；　that　personality。　Therefore；　when　that　face　is　closed　down；　that　personality　is　lost　in　its　own　unknowable　world；　one　feels　pletely　without　purpose。　A　planet　without　a　sun；　revolving　in　darkness。
　That's　how　I　felt　that　night；　looking　down　at　her　extraordinary　features；　and　as　I　chewed　on　my　soullessness；　her　face　began　to　alter。　She　was　clearly　dreaming；　but　what　dreams　must　she　have　been　having。　Her　very　fabric　was　on　the　move；　her　muscle；　her　hair；　the　down　on　her　cheek　moving　to　the　dictates　of　some　internal　tide。　Her　lips　bloomed　from　her　bone；　boiling　up　into　a　slavering　tower　of　skin；　her　hair　swirled　around　her　head　as　though　she　were　lying　in　water；　the　substance　of　her　cheeks　formed　furrows　and　ridges　like　the　ritual　scars　on　a　warrior；　inflamed　and　throbbing　patterns　of　tissue；　swelling　up　and　changing　again　even　as　a　pattern　formed。　This　fluxion　was　a　terror　to　me；　and　I　must　have　made　some　noise。　She　didn't　wake；　but　came　a　little　closer　to　the　surface　of　sleep；　leaving　the　deeper　waters　where　these　powers　were　sourced。　The　patterns　sank　away　in　an　instant；　and　her　face　was　again　that　of　a　gently　sleeping　woman。
　That　was；　you　can　understand；　a　pivotal　experience；　even　though　I　spent　the　next　few　days　trying　to　convince　myself　that　I　hadn't　seen　it。
　The　effort　was　useless。　I　knew　there　was　something　wrong　with　her；　and　at　that　time　I　was　certain　she　knew　nothing　about　it。　I　was　convinced　that　something　in　her　system　was　awry；　and　that　I　was　best　to　investigate　her　history　before　I　told　her　what　I　had　seen。
　On　reflection；　of　course；　that　seems　laughably　naive。　To　think　she　wouldn't　have　known　that　she　contained　such　a　power。　But　it　was　easier　for　me　to　picture　her　as　prey　to　such　skill；　than　mistress　of　it。　That's　a　man　speaking　of　a　woman；　not　just　me；　Oliver　Vassi；　of　her；　Jacqueline　Ess。　We　cannot　believe；　we　men；　that　power　will　ever　reside　happily　in　the　body　of　a　woman；　unless　that　power　is　a　male　child。　Not　true　power。　The　power　must　be　in　male　hands；　God…given。　That's　what　our　fathers　tell　us；　idiots　that　they　are。
　Anyway；　I　investigated　Jacqueline；　as　surreptitiously　as　　could。　I　had　a　contact　in　York　where　the　couple　had　lived；　and　it　wasn't　difficult　to　get　some　enquiries　moving。　It　took　a　week　for　my　contact　to　get　back　to　me；　because　he'd　had　to　cut　through　a　good　deal　of　shit　from　the　police　to　get　a　hint　of　the　truth；　but　the　news　came；　and　it　was　bad。　Ben　was　dead；　that　much　was　true。　But　there　was　no　way　he　had　died　of　cancer。　My　contact　had　only　got　the　vaguest　clues　as　to　the　condition　of　Ben's　corpse；　but　he　gathered　it　had　been　spectacularly　mutilated。　And　the　prime　suspect？　My　beloved　Jacqueline　Ess。　The　same　innocent　woman　who　was　occupying　my　flat；　sleeping　by　my　side　every　night。
　So；　I　put　it　to　her　that　she　was　hiding　something　from　me。　I　don't　know　what　I　was　expecting　in　return。　What　I　got　was　a　demonstration　of　her　power。　She　gave　it　freely；　without　malice；　but　I　would　have　been　a　fool　not　to　have　read　a　warning　into　it。　She　told　me　first　how　she　had　discovered　her　unique　control　over　the　sum　and　substance　of　human　beings。　In　her　despair；　she　said；　when　she　was　on　the　verge　of　killing　herself；　she　had　found；　in　the　very　deep…water　trenches　of　her　nature；　faculties　she　had　never　known　existed。　Powers　which　came　up　out　of　those　regions　as　she　recovered；　like　fish　to　the　light。
　Then　she　showed　me　the　smallest　measure　of　these　powers；　plucking　hairs　from　my　head；　one　by　one。　Only　a　dozen；　just　to　demonstrate　her　formidable　skills。　I　felt　them　going。　She　just　said：　one　from　behind　your　ear；　and　I'd　feel　my　skin　creep　and　then　jump　as　fingers　of　her　volition　snatched　a　hair　out。　Then　another；　and　another。　It　was　an　incredible　display；　she　had　this　power　down　to　a　fine　art；　locating　and　withdrawing　single　hairs　from　my　scalp　with　the　precision　of　tweezers。
　Frankly；　I　was　sitting　there　rigid　with　fear；　knowing　that　she　was　just　toying　with　me。　Sooner　or　later；　I　was　certain　the　time　would　be　right　for　her　to　silence　me　permanently。
　But　she　had　doubts　about　herself。　She　told　me　how　the　skill；　though　she　had　honed　it；　scared　her。　She　needed；　she　said；　someone　to　teach　her　how　to　use　it　best。　And　I　was　not　that　somebody。　I　was　just　a　man　who　loved　her；　who　had　loved　her　before　this　revelation；　and　would　love　her　still；　in　spite　of　it。
　In　fact；　after　that　display　I　quickly　came　to　acmodate　a　new　vision　of　Jacqueline。　Instead　of　fearing　her；　I　became　more　devoted　to　this　woman　who　tolerated　my　possession　of　her　body。
　My　work　became　an　irritation；　a　dis