Christian St. Michael Fic
Christian sat in the living room of one of his smaller havens, a high-rise condo, yet just as comfortable as the others. He would periodically glance out the balcony window to look at the city lights as he scribbled comments on term papers that were submitted yesterday. The Bose radio on the table across the room provided some soft jazz to lighten the mood a little in the room. Then the song came onto the radio and Christian was momentarily lost in remembrance.
Diamond life, lover boy
He move in space with minimum waste and maximum joy
City lights and business nights
When you require streetcar desire for higher heights
No place for beginners or sensitive hearts
When sentiment is left to chance
No place to be ending but somewhere to start
No need to ask
He's a smooth operator
Christian remembered the song, from a few decades ago, but it brought up bittersweet associations that were now distracting him away from his papers.
Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western male
Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for sale
Face to face, each classic case
We shadow box and double cross
Yet need the chase
Yes, he recalled much chasing, and so many lovers chasing after him, again and again. The rustling of the fabric of his tuxedo, the aromatic colognes. Having left Europe he had really left much of his playboy persona behind (though, somehow, his sire Lucky has been able to see it…for a cretin, Lucky was at times quite perceptive).
A license to love, insurance to hold
Melts all your memories and change into gold
His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold
No need to ask
He's a smooth operator
With the end of the song, Christian pointed the remote towards the Bose and turned off the radio, almost lost in thought. Perhaps he had been looking in the wrong places since every avenue again and again was blocked or overly complicated. Perhaps it was time for a change of plan. But Prince Dubois on the other hand….