The Urban Primeval

By Robert Scott Leyse

From the book:

“We’ve known each other a long time, so I needn’t snow you with a cynicism routine, act like I’m immune to disorientation where women are concerned, always dictating the terms and triumphing,” he responded, regarding me with unaccustomed seriousness. “I’m hardly invulnerable—no man worth his salt will ever be. Fool around with a number of women and the law of averages will ensure one meets up with one who’ll thoroughly toss one off-balance, bring on previously unknown levels of stress. The shallow response is that it’s damaging to the ego—the healthy response is that it’s an opportunity to grow, of which there can never be enough. I was involved with a woman who flipped me inside out to the marrow of my bones, effectively altered reality, ego be damned. I’m not talking about a commonplace, purely situational and worldly, scare of the pregnancy or matrimonial variety—any readily comprehensible scare rooted in societal convention. I’m talking about being swept into blind panic, emotionally scattered to the winds, fearing for my sanity and life. I’m talking about a woman’s susceptibility to heightened distress, frightful tumult, lying dormant within her, zero indication of its presence behind the placidity of her demeanor, and then appearing from out of the blue for no ascertainable reason—leading me to wonder if my senses are deceiving me, perceptions a mirage—suddenly nothing I thought I knew seeming to be of any use, the emotional equivalent of being slammed against shoreline rocks by high surf. I don’t mean the typical antics of a woman who’s fighting for a lasting relationship, trying every which way to bring me to heel: such behavior’s to be expected, no big deal. I mean wild animals that lurk inside petite darlings and might be driven to knife me in my sleep!” He paused, took a deep breath, appeared to be gathering his thoughts; then, audibly exhaling and placing palms on the table, fingers spread, “Want to hear a story?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Scott Leyse
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215580981

Robert Scott Leyse

Robert Scott Leyse has slacked galore at corporate law and pharmaceutical advertising firms (while valued by his employers); worked as a New York cab driver on the night shift; lived without visa in Paris for over two years; taken a belly dance class in Green Bay, WI; come close to sliding to his death on loose gravel above a sea cliff in his hometown of San Francisco (nails bloodied by digging into the dirt saved his life); and the most incandescent yoga class he’s had was on a SUP during a storm in San Juan, PR. He eats fish heads and insects and drinks blood, but can’t be paid to eat potato chips or cake.

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The Urban Primeval

by Robert Scott Leyse

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2024 Robert Scott Leyse

Discover other titles by Robert Scott Leyse at:

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This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, and events, past or present, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photos: Robert Scott Leyse

Cover Built by RSL

Published on Smashwords

by ShatterColors Press

New York, New York

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Steve and I were seated in a burgundy plush velvet booth at a popular Upper East Side restaurant on a Tuesday evening. Placed in high spirits by salmon dinners and German beer, a fresh pitcher of which had been set on our table, we were animatedly conversing. What I best remember from our conversation, and feel is worth recounting, is what follows.

Take a look at this cutie, I said, indicating the petite brunette who’d just dashed up to the restaurant’s proprietor, he seated nearby (we being in the back of the restaurant) with a laptop. Decked out fluffy in lavender and pink, looking innocent-little-girl with ponytailed hair.

She’s a beauty, all right, agreed Steve, and, like many beauties, is practiced in the art of persuasion—her sweet-as-pie, vaguely alarmed, expression and the way she’s nervously, and very charmingly, twisting a foot against the floor is pure persuasion. Now she glances at her foot, now she uplifts her eyes and hits the boss full-on with a honeyed look of apology. If a look like that doesn’t soften him, he isn’t human—the minx already knows she’s home-free. He was referring to the matter being discussed, of which we could catch a few words, as well as deduce from body language: the woman was late for her shift as a hostess.

Right, he’s let her off the hook, even if he’s acting as if he hasn’t—drawing it out with a rote lecture. And he’s right to let her off the hook, she’s the perfect hostess—tactful and charming, gorgeous, does wonders for the atmosphere—hiring her’s a savvy business move and he knows it. Her eyes alone ought to entitle her to late arrivals.

A blue-eyed brunette, Steve observed as if half to himself, an abstracted look overspreading his face.

What? You’re getting dazed like a schoolboy, as if you haven’t had dozens of escapades with darlings galore? I teased.

She reminds me of someone, he said, disregarding my teasing. An authentically dangerous darling of infinite charm and unbridled wildness alike—a truly disturbed woman, absolutely unpredictable, at the mercy of elemental proddings, who plunged me into blinding periods of fear, no exaggeration… He trailed off, again appearing abstracted.

Why fake vulnerability, put on an unhinged-by-a-relationship-gone-sour act, for me? Save it for a sentiment-addict with a luscious behind.

We’ve known each other a long time, so I needn’t snow you with a cynicism routine, act like I’m immune to disorientation where women are concerned, always dictating the terms and triumphing, he responded, regarding me with unaccustomed seriousness. "I’m hardly invulnerable—no man worth his salt will ever be. Fool around with a number of women and the law of averages will ensure one meets up with one who’ll thoroughly toss one off-balance, bring on previously unknown levels of stress. The shallow response is that it’s damaging to the ego—the healthy response is that it’s an opportunity to grow, of which there can never be enough. I was involved with a woman who flipped me inside out to