Madam Contrary felt she had not been able to sow her wild oats in quite awhile. The winds had not blown for some time and the rain did not fall. Without a shower the flowers failed to bloom and the clover lost its charm. Nothing lives without nature's lifeblood that is the same from the most delicate orchid to the most robust and stalwart man. Contrary had the former wilting in her raven hair, and the later consuming the better part of her fertile mind. "I am ashamed to say it, but I need a man more then my flower needs the nourishing rain. I crave a shower of jubilant corporeal ecstasy; an idle wild curse has fallen over my body, and I am a formerly fragrant garden turned to desert in the absence of the sustenance only heaven and divine forms can provide."
The street and the alley beneath her window was a bustling veins pulsing a bloody tide of beating hearts to and fro between one destination and another. Every woman a potential rival to affections that she craved. Every man a temptation luring Contrary out of her unintended temperance. "I lost myself in a my thoughts for far to long. There is a time for thinking and there is a time for action. I fear that I must shelve my contemplations for now and seek out more ephemeral joys."
So she gathered up her belongings, a hat, black gloves, and a black lace parasol. She left her room for the bustling crowd below. She was a seductive inkblot on a blank sheet of urban paper. Every man who deep down doubted his stolid superiority looked and beheld a woman contrary to his conscious standards of taste and female desirability. Contrary would never waste a smile on a man who did not in some way desire her bodily. Charm was a effort best made on behalf of one who would reciprocate with caresses and passionate declarations of longing. Madam Contrary stood out in a crowd. She was crow in the midst of doves; a darkling essence teasing at the very boundary line of stolid civilization and venereal anarchy. Possession is quite bit more then one tenths of the law of desire. Without holding the flesh of the coquette in your hand, without feeling the beat of her heart while caressing her thigh, how can a man truly say he has had a woman, let alone has known one?
Very few men had ever known Contrary. She would have it no other way. Her heart would not beat for a man unaccustomed to the true and deep villainy of pleasure; for with every spasm of delight there simply must be an equal amount of agony. Contrary knew the secrets of anguish in body and sensation. But do you oh innocent reader? Would you know how to appreciate the sordid pleasure of a passionate bite when it is hidden deftly between lifeless kisses and cold caresses? Cast your naïve eyes upon Contrary for a spell and I swear to you that you will never again live to love without suffering!
She walked for awhile, twirling her parasol in pulling her shoulders underneath to avoid the rain that was not falling from the sky. How delightful! Such fancy. Not a drop will soil her dress, not one puddle will deign to soak her shoes. Yet she will not place her parasol blithely onto her shoulder, she will not denude her head to the greedy sun. She shows deference to the rain that will not fall, to the deluge that has not flushed away the sinless. With no thought to the bewildered gazes cast upon her Madam Contrary declared in a sing-song cadence, "The rains will come sooner or later. They will come if we ignore the temptation of warmth in the air the dry breath of summer on our necks. The hair on my neck is stiff and rigid like the saw grass on the edge of the city leading out to the fields where I lost so much more then my virginity and where thee and thou lost yours and theirs. Have patience. It will rain before long."
The streets gave way to roads, and the roads to mere paths between one dairy farm and the next. She breathed the air that was filled with the aromas of the barnyard and the stable. It was a sweet decrepitude and kind to her melancholic and rude senses. The cows chewed their cud with a kind of dumb resolve that was charming in its simplicity. Contrary attempted to mimic their mouth movements. She loved the way the seemed to move their mouths in circle, grinding and turning the grass that was the focus of their lives. Such singular obsession was familiar to her, and she longed to express it in ways not considered by sedate mob as orthodox. "You chew your cud and I will chew mine cow! I shall find a man worth consuming, and savoring. Like the green grass you crave, men grow in verdant clumps, and those with the seed to match their color are worth the effort put into finding them. But I am a lost Caesonia! I am the prize of a hidden Gaius. I will not rest until I chew the cud that is the fulsome corporeal attention he would pay to me."
Who would deny such a woman her requirements? What wretch would decry her as a whore of the highest order? A whore who in her honesty is perverting the true meaning of a woman: to decay in the hands of a man, her better, to decay and crumble back into the clay from which she was forged. Oh it is as a rib that the woman is most her most base and foul; at the side of man who would bear her not as an equal but as a rigid appendage to be forgotten when occasion calls for it. She is no whore of course, but a Sybil of feminine perversity. Active, deliberate perversion is not known, positivism in the context of the profane is considered impossible. Perverts are so in spite of their humanity and not as a consequence of it... But the truth is pure and light as the morning sun and it will out, one way or another, and like the sun it will shine upon a more honest humanity.
The meadow frowned at her as the road curved to the left. The flowers themselves seemed to be begging the sky for sustenance. Madam Contrary twirled her parasol and ignored the desperation of the flora. Her mind had already run ahead of her out to the more parsimonious roots of the forest, wherein the water was not so sorely missed. Soon her body caught up with her thoughts and both paused for a moment at the boundary between the civilized fields and the more wild trees of the dark wood. She hesitated but one moment while she pulled on her gloves, and then she stepped into the darkling realm. Somewhere in the tangle of oaks, elms and their accompanying moss there was a dull echo bouncing about. THUT-thut, THUT-thut, THUT-thut... the blunt exclamation of something driven full bore into something that refused to give way. Knowing that where unnatural noise occurred man was sure to be not to far behind, Contrary walked towards the genesis of the thuds. "The man that causes the forest to reverberate with such power much possess the physical charms that I crave."
It took an hour or more of wandering and quite a few minutes of finding herself desperately lost, before our heroine arrived at a logging camp deep in the very womb of the forest. A row of brown canvas tents were anchored into the earth not 5 meters from where she emerged from the tree line. They were obviously empty but, not one who liked giving up the element of surprise, she tip toed over to the nearest tent making sure to keep her breathing low and slow. The tent was of an inferior grade, and was patched in quite a few places. Strewn around the campsite where sundry cans, bottles, and filthy items of clothing flung pell-mell into the low branches of the trees. The whole camp had a feeling of being well lived in. This camp had been here for quite awhile; its inhabitants seemingly saw no need to find any hint of civilization.
A flash of color stood out against the drab green and brown of the forest. She searched for the source of the color and her eyes suddenly fell upon the form of a man, dressed in a dull brown coat but adorned with a bright, almost ruby red woolen hat. He was short in stature from what she could see, and rather muscular. He had the thick, strong arms that come with a life of intense physical activity, and a neck that seemed to be as thick around as one of the small tree trunks that lay prone all around the edges of the camp. She wondered if that same thickness was a general rule in regards to other more enjoyable areas of his physique. She walked over to this prone figure with a spring in her step and a bit of anticipation in her eyes. She had not come all this way to be disappointed. She would have her fun, whether this man was able to remember the occasion afterwords or not.
