There are many variations of the narcissistic disorder personality, each one leading potentially to a different kind of 'brooks-no-equal' occupational excellence, but those who gravitate to violent occupations do so because they are themselves violent inside. And not violent as in angry pub-drunk - or bar-drunk, if you are an American - football lout violent, if you are English, but rather -, grindhouse violent. They will organise and arrange a killing. And they will do it with relish.
Knife-edge shirt pleats and trouser crease, and spotless laundered clothes aside - there is no elegance or subtlety about these people at all. It is the very reason they tend to, as soon as they have acquired the financial means, buy, or try to buy, what they are told by the rest of the world is the best of the best. That is the way narcissists and ego-centric people do things.
*
Voilà! Now there - is a beautiful sitting room... a room that looks out onto the inner garden courtyard, where the diners may lounge, whilst waiting for their table at Le Parc at Chateau Les Crayeres in Reims. Heavy corded fabric armchairs and highly polished mahogany side tables are placed around in small and discrete clusters. Even in the night time there are cut flowers - little vases of night blooming jasmine on tabletops. Lalique glass light covers. Very expensive tapestry...
The scent of truffles was in the air all around. There's a lot of rubbish constantly written about truffles. Even the BBC writes rubbish about it. They write about 'Anandamide' being in truffles. There is no Adandamide in truffles; Anandamide is a commercial name for a synthetic substance.
Rich clever people eat them not even because they taste okay... No, the whole, and the main attraction, lies entirely elsewhere.
The chemicals in truffles in specifically make the skin more permeable to the individual's own scent molecules.
The true natural scent of truffle alone is itself relatively very mild. After all it is a fact you need special dogs or special pigs with extremely acute smell senses to be able to locate them at all! Master Chefs soak truffles firstly in absinthe to release their odour along with other chemicals - your own chemicals - which are carried by the ethanol in the liqueur.
Truffles have complex chemicals in them like some other, some even quite toxic fungi, although they are very mild by comparison to say something like amanita muscaria,for instance, which also grows in oak forests just like the truffles. Some of the chemicals include things like myristic acid, which allows the skin to become highly permeable to odoriferous molecules. Consume truffles prepared the right way and your body will give off a very characteristic odour, and it will hang around for a long time too, and permeate into the clothes you are wearing. Like spermaceti - the crystallized fraction oil from the sperm whale - truffle odour molecules tend to grip tightly onto other odour molecules, particularly human ones. It's a way rich humans have of being on a rich person's subtle list.
Then again though, there is also the expensive girl as compared to the merely rich one.
General Keith Lysander was paying for an expensive girl this evening. She was scheduled to meet him for dinner - and for afterwards too. She was going to make an entrance, according to the pre-arrangement, while he was waiting for his table to be readied. Theoretically - and since she was an experienced night-time sky-diver - she was going to para-wing into the larger open air gardens just outside the floor-to-ceiling bay windows of Le Parc restaurant's dining room.
This type of thing they do in Europe; arrangements like this, one or two of the really expensive escort companies do it to create excitement for the bored ultra rich. Lysander had had it all depicted personally and quite conveniently to him on a very private, a very exclusive App - on his intelligent mobile phone. A rather unusual, almost strange, audio-visual presentation as it happened. Must have been a European thing.
But she didn't show. Not for dinner this evening. Or pre-dinner drinks. Or anything. And the general was now about to get very angry. After all he'd paid extremely good money up front and he'd had things checked out beforehand too - so what was the problem?
"Monsieur?"
He turned his head to see who had spoken to him. A waiter had approached to his left side and was leaning downwards a little to speak solicitously with the angry, though not yet quite disconsolate retired general. "If the monsieur general is dining by himself this evening, perhaps he may like to accept an invitation from the Maison Taittinger and the Total Oil Corporation for dinner with their small party on the top floor -"
The waiter's hands made a gesture to display something like reaching up and sliding one's hands on the top shelf of a tall dresser. "...On the starlight balcony room?"
*
As the general took the sedate lift up the mere three floors to the roof-top location of the private party to which he had now been invited, an App message on his slim-line mobile phone kept flashing a GPS tracking co-ordinate to him. It was meant to have been the target for the girl sky-diver. Now it was simply an annoyance. At best meaningless... At worst a reminder of a problem and a mistake.
Flavours of smoked bacon and seared ciabata sourdough bread, chicken frontanianum, the best quality white truffles, strongly scented Arbequina olive oil, and Compte de Taittinger Champagne - all greeted his nostrils as soon as the lift doors opened.
