“Yes, there is such a thing as an Innocent Whore. There is such a thing as an Innocent Madam. There is such a thing as an Innocent John,” said Alex, as if he was pleading a case in court.
Saying this did not involve Alex in moral conundrums. He spoke from the heart. Alex knew the heart spoke with the only authority which matters: the authority of love.
“Alex, Alex, Alex,” slowly muttered Slade, “I love it when you speak from the heart. I wish the language of the heart, yours in particular, was the universal and cosmic language, the Lingua Franca, so to speak.
“What I wish most of all is the language of the heart be THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW.
“THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW being what gets people punished, even put to death.
“THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW being what gets some people convicted as criminals, thought of as good or bad, victimizers or victims; the label sticks. The label can’t be washed off. It becomes part of the permanent record. THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW is serious.
“As much as I love you speaking from the heart, we both know it is not to be taken seriously. It is of no consequence. No one really has confidence in the heart,” said Slade, getting serious and even a little worked up. “Alas, you don’t have confidence in it, either.”
The idiom of the soul. An idiom of the soul not idiotic. Yet, as far as it goes legally, this is only the pleading of the Fifth.”
“Yes, it is the pleading of the fifth. A fifth of scotch. Otherwise known as seven hundred and fifty mililiters.”
“Indeed, my boy,” said Slade, “that is the nectar of the heart.”
Alex said, “I don’t know what to say, Slade. I was never sure I loved Eve. What I liked was being able to have some fun with her, and be able to break off at any moment I felt that was okay. Whenever I felt like it. I felt I was in love with Eve when I was in lust with Eve, her perfect body, her sweet breathe, everything. Then, I was in bed with her, and the beds of this bordello are indeed sumptuous. I don’t think it is linens, because I think it is satins. If the sheets were linens, they’d be death. Shrouds are linen. Bordello spreads are satin. Indeed.
“Eve’s spread is satin.
“There’s so much I do love, Slade, and I do love Eve right now, though I can hardly feel my penis, and it is dangling soft and quirky. As to your idea THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW has priority and dominion, is concrete and not lovey-dovey, you know as well as I do how many lawyers, judges, clerks of the court, servants and administrators of THE LANGUAGE OF THE LAW come in here on a monthly, or yearly basis.
Alex is pontificating now.
We’re not going to get into hypocrisy, or the papacy.
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