“Eve, are you a whore?”
Alex asks as he sits comfortably on a smooth rock, in the Garden of Eden, which he has found untouched, unmolested, on the unfettered banks along the Mighty Mississippi.
As we know, Alex searched mightily, silently, and without guidance, or moral compass, to find this splendid Garden of Eden.
“No, I am your helpmate.”
“You don’t do much helping, to be frank.”
“You don’t need much helping, Alex. We’re in paradise. The workload isn’t heavy, although there is some work. I admit to being both surprised and dismayed by that. I also admit– or should I say confess– how happy I am to let you handle this smidgen by yourself.”
“What are you saying, Eve? You complain of boredom. Yet the one scintilla of interest or possible enthusiasm this place provides — would be our work. It is meant to be our work.”
God, is it good to discover the Mississippi flows through the Garden of Eden. The Garden of Eden is much more a replica of “the real world” than Alex suspected. Alex was going to continue heading north, but had a strong hunch he’d also find a New Orleans in this Garden of Eden should he head back south.
The banks of the Mighty Mississippi as they are in the time of the Garden of Eden... Are the same in “our times”. Eve, a good looking woman, who deserved a Garden of Eden screw, or to gorge– maybe at the same time– herself with the celestial, cosmic bonbons she plucked and ate.
Bonbons grow not of the tree of knowledge.
Bonbons are not forbidden fruit.
(Unless you are on a diet. Eve is not on a diet, nor need she be. She’s dropdead gorgeous, as appropriate for an immortal woman. She leaves Venus and Aprhodite, even Athena, in the gold dust. On a scale of 1-10, Eve is a 666.)
Gold dust which might split the night sky into glitter, as spit.
“Doncha see, Eve? Because we are immortal, we don’t need to reproduce. You’ll never have the strain of waddling about, won’t need to bear children, and will never go into labor. I can’t tell you how many times when I am banging you I wish you’d get pregnant.”
Eve wanted to fuck Alex’s brains out. That’d give him some Garden of Eden. That’d give him some helpmate.
“Come to think of it, Eve, you’ll never need to change diapers.”
“Prostitution is, or should I say will be, the oldest profession. We’re the first, dare I say, man and woman. It all starts here.”
Eve couldn’t put it into words, but sensed Alex was off base. Off base in the Garden of Eden. This was wacky.
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