How to Become a Cannibal
Last summer I wrote a story about childhood trauma. The main character, Sebastian, is a divorced father of two who is murdered by his daughter. His girlfriend is a retired escort from Paris named Céline who is also called “the cannibal” by some. I often thought about how some people can be turned into something so horrific. I mean to say, no one is born with the appetite to eat human flesh right. So how then does someone become so terrible? The answer is through childhood trauma of course. Listen here to this story about ‘Céline la Cannible”. This is the way the story started “What is your name” and the story ended like this “ gulp, grin”.
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“What is your name” she asks. “Céline” she replies with a smile, drink in one hand and a skinny cigarette in the other. “Will you remember” she asked with a slight nod and wink. “Oh of course I will honey are you serious. I’ll remember if you give me a reason to remember” she says rather cheeky back to the escort. “Where are you from” asks the woman. “I think it only matters where we are going” she says with a sassy laugh back. “OK, ok” she responds back. “You are a sassy one aren’t you?” she says. The smile at each other and have a sip of wine from their glasses.
It’s Château Petra but it’s not the most expensive she’s ever had even at her young age of twenty- sevem years old. She’s had better over the last five years she’s been living in New York. Give me a second to go to the bathroom she says to the woman. “I’ll just be a second”.
She can barely see her hand in front of her face without her glasses, but most high-end clientele won’t be interested in a woman with glasses. She had considered having another profile set up online where she could have them on. There are a lot of well-paying clients both men and women who like a softer and less sophisticated look. Tonight, wasn’t that night. She knows how to look sophisticated. A black dress reveals her back. It has a slit in it from the bottom up until just above the mid-thigh, heels have a red bottom, Louboutin. Her hair pulled back in a bun, two bangs hang down the front of her forehead. She finally arrives at the bathroom to find her colleague not dressed as nice but certainly fits the minimum criteria of women in the bar stands next to her at the basin.
“Do you have them?” she asked, “Where are they? We need to hurry up because I can’t see shit out there”. “Yes, here and hurry up” she says. “I hate using these she says. “Whatever just get out there here are the pills. Be sure to only give her one this time, else you are going to kill one of these bitches” says the colleague. “They aren’t as large as men! They can only take one! Got it. The last bitch I had to threaten to tell her wife to keep us out of trouble, remember that?” she says. “Yeah whatever.” “White or red?” asks the colleague. “Red” says Céline. She slides Céline two small red pills. “Why don’t you just fuck this one anyway?’ asks the colleague “She’s hot actually”. “That’s the problem with you American girls” says Céline. “You have no morals.” Two red lips form the slight grin now on Céline’s face as she walks away from her accomplice. “Look at the fucking kettle calling the pot black” she says under her breath shaking her head reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. “...talk of morale from a fucking cannibal”.
“I bought you a drink” she says as she returns to her date. “Oh, thank you darling I was going to ask if you wanted one as well” she replies. “I don’t like to be too tipsy.” says Céline. “In fact, I think I’m ready to head upstairs if you are” she says. The two women head upstairs together to a room reserved by Céline’s colleague. The pills Céline spiked her clients drink with serve two purposes; first they make the client weak, too weak to force Céline to do something she may not want to do; second to make them extremely tired and forgetful. It takes about an hour for them to start taking effect, so this little technique is always employed at the end of the night, generally after a shower in the hotel room.
Clients never know they have been drugged. Céline is out of the room almost as fast as she went into it, seven hundred and fifty dollars richer after three hours with her client and without having to take off as much as an earring. She doesn’t have time for the small talk and to tuck this one in bed. There is another client coming earlier in the morning the next day from China wanting a snack for breakfast before starting work on Monday.
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The trip from Tunisia to France was a long one by boat. Tyrone, then a French Soldier, was risking it all for a woman he fell in love with after serving across North Africa for only six months. It was him, his lover Amina Moreau, and her young daughter, Céline, of the same last name, which this chapter is about. Tyrone was a young Soldier, much younger than Amina at the time by about ten years or so. Amina was beautiful. She looked much more quintessentially French than Berber, and she spoke perfect French. She didn’t observe any of the cultural norms expected of a woman from Tunissia. She had dreams of becoming a French actress one day despite her age. She wanted to live in the 10th, 9th, or 18th, arrodismant in Paris like the rest of the women she would see on TV or in the news in Tunisia. When the opportunity presented itself that day in the small café where she worked with her husband, brother-in-law, and some others, she took it discretely.
“This isn’t the place for a young guy like you” Amina told Tyrone, sitting his coffee in front of him one day at the family run café. “You look new here.” She said. “I can show you a few maybe” she said. This is how the affair started some seven months ago. She didn’t bother to keep the affair secret from Céline. They had kissed in front of the child before over the months. Each time, when Tyrone was out of sight for the day, Céline was warned with a slap across her face as a reminder, not a warning, to keep her dumb mouth shut to her father and uncle, both men whom Céline loved dearly. “It’s time to go, hurry-up,” said Amina. “If you haven’t already put the clothes in your bag then its too late!”. “Ok, but I need my blanket my Daddy bought me. I need it.” said Céline. “No! let’s go now!” said Amina “...and remember you are only coming because I MUST take you” she said shaking Céline.
The sudden slap across the face of Céline from Amina was for good measure. When they arrive at the port about one hour later than planned to meet Tyrone, he was red with worry. “I thought you both weren’t going to make it” he said with a look of relief and noticing Céline. “Céline are you ok sweetheart? What can I do to make you feel better about the trip” he asked? “She is fine...” snapped Amina. “I’m ok” said Céline. A look of confusion on the face of Tyrone now. Tyrone would be confused many more times that year, especially three months into his relationship with Amina. If it wasn’t the constant beatings of Céline he witnessed, it was the constant late nights that Amina would return to their small apartment in Nice.
Those nights, Tyrone would spend reading books to Céline, and his nephew Enrique that his sister would bring by when she visited France from Portugal, which was often. Céline described Enrique as the sweetest little handicapped boy with the most vivid imagination. One leg was slightly longer than the other, and he had a brown birthmark under his eye. He used to tell Céline how one day he wanted a sister just like her, then they would smile and laugh.
Unfortunately, the relationship that was never there between Amina and Tyrone grew father and father apart while Céline, Enrique, and Tyrone grew closer and closer. That is, until one night history repeated itself and Amina and Céline were on a night train headed to Paris. The pattern of motherly neglect coupled with a revolving door of men, constant movement from arrodismant to arrodismant was a recipe for disaster for poor Céline.
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“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do sweetheart” said Frau Meier, the head mistress to Céline. “I know you are not the type to sleep with a man that you can’t love, but look, this is an opportunity for you to cash in on your assets.” She said. “They won’t last forever”. Céline had heard those words before from her mother some years ago before a fight between the two had resulted in Céline killing her mother. They got into a heated argument after her mother accused her of stealing some money from her purse. Céline did in fact steal the money but wouldn’t admit it.
As per the usual, Céline received the slap across the face from her mother Amina before shoving her mother to the ground. On the way down, the side of her head caught the sharper edge of the dinner table in which turned Amina into a vegetable on the floor, blood covering the wooden floors behind her head like milk gushing out from a milk carton. Céline having never seen so much blood in one time, was nonetheless unphased.
She killed her mother at least twice a month in her head. Each time in more brutal and gruesome ways, also each time she dedicated the act to Tyrone, and Pappa, and all the others. It was ruled a self-defense in the French courts. Nonetheless, she spent six months in a Parisian jail because she couldn’t afford to make bail. That’s where she was introduced to the exquisite art of drugging men from some escorts who were also jailed with her. It was there that Céline made the decision to try her hand at escorting when she got out of jail.
“Ok, I’m ready” said Céline to Frau Meier “I can start whenever, even tonight”. “Ok, good sweetheart, but we always pair up a new girl with a more experienced one until I feel like you can work independently without being taken advantage of.” said Frau Meier. “You know darling...” said Frau Meier taking a departure from subject as she often did. It was due to her old age. “You remind me so much of myself when I came here to Paris after the war from Germany”. She said “I was so ready to be independent so I started this escort agency. With some hard work, you’ll also own your own agency one day.” Céline, not knowing how to respond said the first thing that came to her mind.
“You said you had a girl to teach me Madame?” “Oh yes... I know just the right one for you.” Smiling now she says to Céline as to reveal a great gift to her. “Marie!” she screams aloud summoning another young woman only a bit older than Céline. “Qui Madame?” says the young French woman. “Céline, meet Marie.” says the mistress “Marie la Séductrice”. “La Séductrice!” gasped Céline. “Why does she have a nickname like that?” “We all get nicknames here darling,” said Marie. “I should actually say, we all EARN nicknames here”. The mistress, already smiling from ear to ear bids the two women farewell. Céline can’t help but think the smile is caused from a flash back of days of old, sometimes in the 1600’s, when she was introduced into the industry and paired up with another girl for her first time.
“Scared are you” asked Marie. “Not really. Just can’t believe we are about to drug a man and take his money.” said Céline back to Marie. “You make it seem like it’s a fucking crime.” says Marie. “It’s not.” “These men are paying for escorts, not prostitutes. Escorts don’t HAVE to be fucked. With prostitutes its expected.” We aren’t prostitutes; we are escorts. This is the difference,” said Marie. “And besides, the drugs we will give him will make him think he just had his brains fuck by two of the sexiest women in Paris anyway when he wakes up even though we won’t be in there with him over ten minutes at most” she says. Céline is a master at work keeping her disbelief bottled up.
“Let’s go over your plan” says Céline. “Oh, good idea.” says Marie. “You see, you and I sit at the bar until he arrives. When the “johns” call the agency, they don’t know which woman they will meet, only the characteristics they request. The “johns” are told to sit at a certain place in the restaurant away from the bar.” She said “...Then I walk over to him you see.” Said the seductress. “I’ll ask him a leading question like, “did fate bring us together just now or was it arranged”, you know, something stupid like that and the clients usually get the idea” “Ok, ok” said Céline, tell me more. “Yes so he will either have a red or a white wine or even a bourbon that is dark. I’ll talk him into that drink.” she continued. “I will then excuse myself to the bathroom where YOU meet me with these!” she said with a slight grin on her face.
“What the hell are these” says Céline. “THESE are our little friends” says Marie. “They help us get away with things without having to drop panties when we don’t want to” she explains. “Look, one white, one red, even though they are both the same thing. Its food coloring that you paint on you see.” She explains, this time with glee. “If they don’t fully dissolve in the drink you can say it’s something else.” Said Marie. “Then I return to the table with two drinks. One for him in my right hand and one for me in the left. As a best practice, always give him the glass in your right hand, so you don’t get confused” she continued “After he drinks his glass we have about an hour to get him started or at least on his way to a private place. The chemicals make him horny, but he doesn’t really know what’s going on. To make things better he will be powerless to stop us from doing anything we want while yet keeping him fully aroused.” She explains. “He will go to sleep and wake up feeling good as though he had been fucked but of course really not.” She concluded.
“Of course, in the event that you feel horny and fancy a one night stand you don’t have to use these” she said “Well”said Céline “…have you ever done it” she asked. “Of course not!” shrieked Marie “I am way too pretty and sophisticated for any of these idiots calling the agency. They are all losers.” She said. “You have to be tall, handsome, rich, and able to give me anything I ever want” said Marie smiling. “Most, no ALL men are garbage” she said this time losing her smile.
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Céline and Marie, “La Séductrice”, worked as a team for many weeks until the head mistress felt compelled to elevate Céline from the supporting cast role. “What do we know about the john?” asked Céline. “He says his name is Henri and he uses a cane. On the phone he had a Spanish accent I think, maybe Portuguese” said Marie barely able to control her laughter. “How can you give me a fucking cripple as my first John” shouts Céline. “I already am on the border if I can do this at all.” She says. “Oh shut up!” said Marie. “Those are the best ones! They can’t do anything because they are crippled you moron!”. “It will be a bit different because you actually have to go in the room with them, order room service, and THEN here come the drinks.” She explains. “What fucking room service is going to spike a wine glass and bring it to you” asks Céline clearly upset.
“Hello!” said Marie. “I’m your room service tonight bombshell.” She laughs out with a smile. “You tell him you have ordered room service when you came from the bathroom and you are ready to go up now. You hear a small knock on the room door about five minutes after closing the door and voila.” She explains. The genius of Marie “La Séductress” is as disgusting as fresh dog poop on the sidewalk after a fresh rain to Céline. In fact, Marie herself is even more disgusting as Céline observed her take advantage of John after John that year. In fact, Marie had started to remind Céline of her mother whom she despised.
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Its nine o’clock in the evening and both women are waiting at the bar at the bottom of the hotel they have reserved for the john and Céline. She, having already had two glasses of wine is already feeling reluctant about servicing the john. Marie with a cigarette in hand is going on and on about how she will never marry and hopes to move to New York one day when a perfect description of the john walks in. Short and round in stature, one leg slightly longer than the other. He has long dark hair and a birth mark under his right eye. From the bar the women observe him but he cannot view the bar as easily. “Unbelievable” says Céline as she is taken back over fifteen years in her past. “Enrique” she says under her breath. “Yes, that’s right, “Henri” is his name of course” said Marie also two drinks into the night only half hearing what Céline had said “...and yes, I agree, he is unbelievably ugly.”
“I can’t do it Marie...I can’t do it, I’m sorry.” Said Céline. “Ahhhh.... You pathetic cunt.” said Marie laughing this time. “I knew it. I knew it. Here the mistress gives you a big baby to take candy from and you can’t do it.” She said. “I’ll save you this time and ONLY this time.” said Marie to Céline slamming her drink on the table and handing Céline the pills that she was supposed to use to spike the wine. “I’m only doing this to preserve the agencies reputation because there are other women like me working there who would loose money if a John complained and NOT because I really give a shit about you.” She said finally. “Order the drinks, spike the one in your right hand and bring them to room 124 when you see us walk to the elevator. Arrive EXACTLY five minutes after we go into the room!” she whispered into Céline’s ear. Then she walked off in Henri’s direction.
Céline had already stopped drinking and it’s been about an hour since Henri and Marie had been chit chatting. She didn’t need to listen to the plan from Marie since she had rehearsed it in her head several times. She could only think about those formative years with Enrique and Tyrone and how they used to say the sweetest things to her as a little girl. Suddenly she sees the two stand and head toward the lobby of the hotel from the bar which meant it was time to act. Ordering the wine from the bartender she takes them up the stairs to the first floor careful not to be seen from anyone in the bar or hotel lobby. She manages to beat the two to the floor as Henri walks with a cane Marie almost must assist him into the room.
Three minutes into the plan, Céline drops the pill into the wine glass and watches it dissolve and fizzle away. “Room service” says Céline. Marie pops her head out; she was practically in her underwear. She had been giving Henri a little strip tease buying time for the drinks to arrive. “I’ll see you at the bar where we were in about thirty minutes” said Marie. “Ok” said Céline. “Here is yours and here is his” she said. As Marie closes the door Céline is not inclined to leave right away. She places her hand on the door softly and whispers “Enrique, enjoy your night my brother.”
Two hours pass by, and Céline is still at the bar of the hotel, drinking water. She isn’t waiting for Marie and neither does she feel bad about having switched the drinks so that Marie took the pill. She had seen the pills work very, very many times and they do exactly what they are supposed to do, and well. Marie and Amina, to Céline were the same woman. Both women sought to take advantage of men good or bad for their own personal gain. She thought about how men in the media and from the mouths of other cackling women were so bad, and not loving, and womanizers, but the truth was, she had seen it the opposite way all her life. In the end, she thought, both bitches got what they deserved, one with her head busted by the same child she used to beat and the other getting fucked by the very man she despised.
“Are you going to drink water all night Madam, or would you like another wine?” asked the Bartender abruptly. “No thank you” she responded back. “You wouldn’t have to pay” he responded pointed to two gentlemen waiving to her at the end of the bar. “Ha!” she laughed out loud. “They can’t afford me but tell them I said thanks” she said. “Man-eater are you” responded the bartender as he turned to walk down the bar to the men to deliver the news. “No” she said under her breath. “I’m a Cannibal, eating these shit women”.
Since then, Céline hadn’t taken another male as a client. The idea of using her womanly virtues and assets to seduce and later take advantage of other women was sexy to her. This is how her twenty-one-year career started. She would eventually take over Frau Meiers position a few years before meeting me. I never had a clue what was going on. She used some of the proceeds from the agency to bid on items at certain estate sales which she used to help a few girls out that she liked that worked for her.
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- TWO YEARS LATER -
“Is that your real name” she asked with a slight grin, wine glass still partially covering her mouth. “Yes, it is. Céline with an C not a S” she replies, returning the grin this time raised eyebrows slightly. The unique way that Céline uses her facial expressions to send signals to women is unmatched by any in the industry. “I just want to get to know you a little better” says the client. “Does this kind of thing always have to be about business to you?” she asks gazing into Céline’s eyes. “Absolutely not” replied Céline. “Some of it is pleasure...”. “Ok, so how do you know when it is pleasure or just business.” she asked, this time with a more stern look and much more attentive. “How about this...” says Céline, “I’ll let you know when its pleasure.”
They both share a smile and a laugh somewhat sinister and continue their drinks at the table. Never at the bar. NEVER drink with a client at the bar. It is too easy for people to notice what’s going on. Someone could easily see what is being put in the drink right before the final hour. She much prefers to sit at the table where she can take the liberty of excusing herself to the bathroom The same way Marie had taught her many months ago. Once out of sight of the client she could return to the table with both drinks, the spiked one in her left hand. It’s the hand that Cain used to kill his brother Abel.
“I’m married” said the client. Céline believes it and doesn’t care. This is always the plight of a human relationship. Things between two adults get old and go sour, and they grow apart. It could also be that an agreement exist between the two but not likely. “ Yeah I left her.” she says to Céline. “How unfortunate” she replies. “yeah... or is it” she says. “She just demanded too much of my time. Her and the kids we have. “Why don’t we discuss that some other time”, let’s take tonight to focus on us right now. Trust me, I’ll replace and fulfill everything that woman took away from you”. She says. “Everything?” she asked. “Absolutely everything” she replies. She stands up to excuse herself to the bathroom. It never matters how far the table is to the bathroom as long as the bar is farthest away from the table, preferably out of sight.
She arrives back to the table where her client is waiting for her. “I got us these two drinks” she says. “Its Kelt VSOP because I know you like a smooth cognac.” She says offering her the drink from her left hand. “Oh, how kind of you.” she replies, “yeah I do love a good Cognac”. “Well, in that case let’s make a toast” she says slightly raising her glass. “To a night we both will never forget”. In thirty minutes or so she will need to urinate which means the sedative is starting to work. She will excuse herself to the bathroom, and Céline will have to catch her before she bothers off somewhere else or see a friend or co-worker which could disturb Céline’s timeline. The sedative is different for different people, but it always works. She almost always books a hotel room in the same place as the restaurant/bar. It’s easier to get to the room this way. Once in the room there is no time for foreplay. “This is business.” She whispers to her before giving a generous and wet kiss and bite on the lip. She is stumbling to the bed now, fully aware and coherent as to what is going on but virtually impossible to stop it. The clients body feels numb but the plumbing works, in fact maybe more enhanced.
The signature tools are always at the ready, usually under the bed on the right side. The room is usually booked under another client’s name or another work colleague working with Céline. She has one key which she leaves the client with after the night is over so they can find their way out. She moans sensually atop the client. “Turn for me now.” Céline says, louder than a whisper but softer than a normal inside voice. It’s more of a command than a request. With a harness on now she begins to apply lubrication to her, without her being able to comprehend or stop what is about to happen. The client being heavily sedated, lying flat on her chest, breast full, ready to give her lust to the bed sheets.
All the while, Céline laughs and thrusts and laughs and thrusts. The encounter takes less than thirty minutes. She’s finished, bedsheets left a bloody mess, as is the usual case for women who have either never been penetrated before, so long and deep, inside that which is only the desire of a woman’s demented, twisted revenge fantasy. As for Céline, she is ready to go home now, very small suitcase packed and ready, make up re- applied. She always does exactly what she says she will do. In keeping with that tradition, she leans over to her ear lobe to give a goodbye lick and bite to it. “That was pleasure” she says smiling. Under the moonlight, feeling satisfied from her prey, Céline walks back to the escort agency.
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Back at the escort agency a new girl, Genevieve, awaits Céline for her tutelage having been assigned her by Frau Meier. “Oh, I am so pretty and beloved by most all men I know” explains Genevieve to Frau Meier. “I use them like towels most of them, when they can no longer do anything for me, I throw them away” she says laughing. Frau Meier doesn’t share the laugh.
A few bells attached to a door give ring as Céline arrives at last back to the agency. Walking in, she sees a few other girls sitting on a leather couch some browsing on their phones and others chit chatting. She makes eye contact with an old friend, Marie, who gives a cold fiery look in Célines direction. Céline returns the look with a wink and slight smile. “Céline darling, come here” says Frau Meier in which Céline gracefully walks into the small smokey office where the mistress has summoned her.
“Qui Madame?” she says. “Genevieve, meet Céline.” says Frau Meier “Céline la Cannibale”. “Why does she have a nickname like that?” asked Genevieve. “We all get nicknames here darling,” said Frau Meier. “I should actually say, we all EARN nicknames here.” responds Céline.
Frau Meier is now drinking the remainder of her scotch and grins, “gulp, grin”.