Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Tale of a Young Tradesman
According to what I have been told, there was a young musical dealer, a tradesman in the making, in Orlando, Florida, named Arontaylor Gordon. He heard that Lima, Peru was a very good market for purchasing well made, and inexpensive instruments, in particular stringed instruments, that the craftsmanship was exceptional. And though he had never been outside of his country before he had $20,000-dollars in his bank account set aside for such an adventure in investments. Several others within his trade who knew him quite well, were about to leave for Lima, for just such an adventure, thus he went along. They arrived the second weekend in June, on a Monday evening, and, on the advice of the hotel staff, was told to rest and not to leave the hotel premises until morning and they would find for them chauffeuring, and not to worry, that there were many bargains to be had. To impress a few of the staff members, and prove he was an unpretentious buyer, Arontaylor pulled out a roll of one-hundred dollar bills, in front of several staff standing behind the counter, and one bellboy leaning his forearm against a railing, as a multitude of guests were coming and going per near in his pathway, seeing what a foolish lad he was. And as he displayed this compressed wad of bills, a very lovely Peruvian woman of Trujillo stock: bronze skin with dark deep eyes, and long black straight silk like hair that touched the end of her spine just happened to pass him by (one of those who will perform a favor for any man for a sum; one of ill repute) without noticing her, and she saw the wad of bills, with the two zeros at the end tips of nearly each bill, as he fanned them like a deck of cards. Said she to herself, as she stood at the glass doors peering back over her shoulder at the hotel staff around this young gentleman, ‘He is daring or stupid, he will be in poverty before he knows it, save, if he does not correct his ways; here, does his journey end. The money if it were mine, I’d put better use to it, should someone else get it, some lowdown thief, most obvious, then what?’
This young woman, girl not yet twenty-three, like a Trujillano, wanted to run up and embrace him, before he put the money back into his front pocket, that made a large bulge, but instead she turnabout, and went up to her hotel room she rented by the month for her amorousness escapades. Claudia, being her name, waited for her personal, and elder maid, had her deliver a message to Mr. Gordon, whom now was in his room dressing for dinner to soon join his fellow companions, as she weaved her web to figure out how to get his money. The elder maid, went downstairs to talk to the staff, to gather all the information she could on the gentleman, even went into the small bar, seeing a few of his companions at a table and got into a conversation with them, then reported back to her paymaster all she had learned. Then went to the gentleman’s room, a floor below Claudia’s, said: “Senior, a lady of well standing saw you in the lobby and would like to speak with you at your leisure.”
The maid held a calm and regal composure, and thought little of it, or so it appeared to the gentleman, as far as danger went; in consequence, he saw himself far from it, actually he saw himself as perhaps the most handsome gringo in Peru, and this lovely Inca Princess could not do without him, “Sure,” he said, with a grandiose smile and puffed up posture, “I’ll see her right away, right now!”
“Whenever you like,” said the elder maid, whom really didn’t look her age, but was twice his.
“What are we waiting for, let’s go, go…!” Arontaylor said with repose.
The maid took him down to the floor below, pell-mell, by elevator, he knew and suspected naught. She had a key to the door, and opened it and called to her mistress: “Here’s the gentleman you were asking about, Mr. Gordon.”
“Oh, Mr. Arontaylor Gordon, from Orlando, Florida, welcome, welcome to my humble abode!”
He was quite amazed at the apartment, it was three times the size of his, and quite elegant.
“Nice to meet you, Miss…” and he hesitated.
“Claudia Gordon-Tapia,” she said as smoothly as silk. Then she took him by the hand and furthermore said, “We are related.” This was all new to him of course, and she had him sit down, and gave him wine and cookies, and kissed his cheeks, and rubbed his thigh.
“Arontaylor, I am most certain we are related, when I heard your last name mentioned by the staff, I was greatly surprised.”
“I’ve never heard about this, of having Peruvian relatives, even if it may be in the form of a second or third cousin,” recoiled Arontaylor.
“Oh yes, we are in that category for sure!” She exclaimed, “Things ill done perhaps, and long past, but we are related.” Then she called for more wine and dinner to be sent up for both of them.
“Well, if it is it is,” said Mr. Gordon, bewildered but willing to take it at face value, why would she lie?
Then she embraced him more and started to cry, kissed his hands.
“I’ve got to go, I have to have dinner with my associates, and they’re expecting me!”
“Yes,” said Claudia, “I understand, you are surprised, as well as I am surprised, but your dinner is on its way, and I’ll have my personal maid tell your comrades, you’re busy, they’ll understand.”
To this he answered:
“I’m pretty tired, and it’s getting late, and I suppose it will be alright.” After this she talked about all the information her maid had supplied for her, and it impressed Arontaylor some, reassured him, it was possible, and as far as the maid, she never did deliver the message, she was close behind hidden doors.
After dinner, it was quite late, “Alas!” she said, “I have two bedrooms here you must stay the night, for a lady like me it doesn’t look well for a man to leave so late, in the wee hours of the morning I’ll wake you, and you can go back to your room and freshen up if you please, and we can meet later on if you wish.”
The night was a tinge chilly, and Arontaylor had just jumped into bed and under the covers when all of a sudden he found he needed to relieve himself. His breeches were hung over the top of a sofa chair in a corner of the bedroom, his money still in his pocket. He got up, looked for the bathroom.
‘In there,’ he told himself.
For you to understand what took place next, and what is to follow, I shall describe it as well as I can: it was dark in the bathroom, and the lights did not work, so narrow was it, he could not spread out his legs without touching each side of the walls, it was a spare restroom with only a toilet and very small sink, seldom used it would seem, or perhaps used too often, and a thin commode 18th Century style, German, had been squeeze into one side with just enough room for him to squeeze around it, heavy too, for all the three items: commode, toilet and Arontaylor too heavy for the beams below that were wet from leakage, as was the rim around the toilet wet and the floor soggy, making two planks rot under the heavy marble like privy-seat, when he sat in place, allowing his full weight to drop onto the wooden seat, the two planks, one of which had already halfway been disengaged, and slightly fallen, he found himself on the bottom of a stairway—he had fallen through, both planks over his knees. The maid ran to her mistress as soon as she heard him crash, and Claudia on the spur of the moment ran to the bedroom and took the money from his clothes.
There he lay, knowing good and well now, he was tricked. He yelled loud and louder for help, but all Claudia did was shut the bathroom door, and lock the bedroom door. He pushed the side the planks, climbed over the toilet, all bruised from head to heel. Then it dawned on him, his misfortune, and cried like a baby, ‘How short a time it took for me to lose my entire savings and investment,’ he moaned.
“Alas!” said a staff member of the hotel, using the stairway instead of the elevator, after several minutes had passed.
“Oh!” said Arontaylor, “I’ve been robed!” forgetting he was all bruised up and could barely stand, and he explained his situation, as she called for an ambulance with her cellphone.
To him, she replied:
“Young man,” said the maid looking up at the big hole he made by falling through it: “I know nothing about you, but I know about her, whom you speak of, had you fallen to sleep and not fallen through floor as you have done, as to relieve yourself as you say, she would have cut your throat while in your sleep.”
No: 1085/6-15 thru 16-2015
Copyright © 6-2015 by Dlsiluk