Your Fondest Desire

Clarissa remembered the day of May 1, 2001 better than she did a lot of other days that had passed into history. For her, May Day that year was the one that changed her life. Perhaps if she hadn't gone to the concert, she would think, it could have all been different. But they were lucky to get tickets to a sold-out 'Day on the Green', and Clarissa was only nineteen, so there was no way she would have missed it. Besides, one of the performers at the all-day open-air concert was Damion Bond, and Clarissa was a big fan of his.

Perhaps it was because he was under thirty and so good-looking, or the charisma he exuded when he pranced around the stage in his all-black outfits. Perhaps it was the permed blond hair that billowed out around his shoulders and over his back; or the piercing blue of his eyes. The anger of his lyrics, the sweetness of his voice? Or all of the above...whatever the reason, Clarissa was infatuated with Damion Bond, known to the teenagers of America as The Stardust Kid. All her friends were fans of his, too, but none of them had seen him as close-up as they would that day.

They managed to fight their way through the crowds at The Oakland Coliseum until they were right against the barrier that separated the audience from the elevated stage. Clarissa stood staring up at Damion Bond's black leather pants, and convinced herself that she was in love. She was in good company -- approximately half the women in the audience felt the same way. But Clarissa didn't forget the sensation once she left the stadium; it stayed with her and grew until she decided that her life would only be complete if Damion Bond was a part of it.

How she was to achieve this lofty and clearly impossible goal she really had no idea. Bond lived in Mill Valley, California with a live-in model girlfriend and two Rottweilers; that much she knew. Clarissa was a second-year student in Ancient History at the University of California, Berkeley -- there didn't seem to be much opportunity to even meet her heartthrob, much less win him over.

So she changed her major to Communications. She left her job as a part-time reference librarian and got one as a receptionist at Bill Graham Presents. This, she knew, had very little to do with her considerable office and computer skills and a lot to do with the fact that Clarissa was beautiful. Tall and voluptuous, with masses of curly dark red hair and the brilliant green eyes to go with it, she wasn't just another pretty girl. She was outstanding. She knew she had no talent for acting, and modelling was out of the question considering her too-shapely figure, but there were a lot of other opportunities in mass-media. All Clarissa asked for was the one that would bring her in contact with Damion Bond.

Six months passed, and that opportunity didn't present itself. Although she could get free comps to concerts, Bond was in the studio making an album, and it was unlikely he would tour until the following year. So Clarissa resigned herself to the wait, and discovered that she really loved Communications, and in particular radio. It didn't have the scope and wide-screen appeal of either films or video, but that was the reason she liked it. So she studied and she worked, and she dated infrequently. None of the men who asked her out could compare in her mind to Damion Bond, and they all proved to be a disappointment once she got to know them. Her beauty drew a large crowd of admirers, but her disinterest drove them away. Eventually she got a reputation for being cold and distant, and there weren't as many invitations as before. She didn't notice.

By her last year in college, Clarissa was one of the most promising of the graduates-to-be. She became an intern at the leading rock music station in San Francisco, and her goal became to have her own talk show. She wasn't particularly interested in being a disk jockey; that seemed boring, and it certainly wouldn't lead her to an introduction to Damion Bond. Her obsession with him hadn't lessened over the past year-and-a-half, although she never told anyone about her determination to marry him. She still hadn't been able to meet him, however -- there was a series of near-misses -- if only she had been at a party she skipped, or in the station on a day off; but she hadn't given up hope. Someday, she knew, it would happen.

Perhaps that fated day never would have come if Clarissa hadn't gone to Berkeley one weekend. She made the trip to see her friends Jack and Jay, owners of a bookstore called Dark Carnival. And next door to the bookstore was a new shop, a little place that specialized in magic and the occult. After perusing the items in the window, Clarissa's eye fell on a business card taped to the glass. It was shiny black, and the writing was in white. There was a name, Annalisa Solnikov, and below it a telephone number and the words in script, I can grant your fondest desire. Beside the name was a small red heart with a lightening bolt through it.

Clarissa smiled disparagingly and left the shop to go into Dark Carnival. The leaded glass in the front door had been removed, and was being replaced by two workmen. Inside the shop, she found Jack talking to some customers. The shop, which was being upgraded for earthquake safety, was still in a state of disorder and would be for some time. Jack saw her and waved. "Hi, Clari! Come for some new books?"

"Got anything good?"

"A couple -- listen, are you still collecting stuff for that AIDS auction down at the station?"

"No, we closed that a couple of days ago. Why?"

"I've got something really great here. You know that jar I started, for people to put contributions in?"

"Sure -- is it full?"

"No, but one of our regulars came by and threw in his wedding ring. Said his divorce finally came through, and he wanted to celebrate."

"Why would that make a good auction item?"

"Because the ring belonged to Damion Bond, and it's engraved on the inside with his initials."

Clarissa smiled, hoping Jack couldn't see the way her pounding heart was threatening to break free of its' flesh mooring. "I think we could make an exception for something like that."

She left Dark Carnival carrying Damion Bond's wedding band. It wasn't what she had expected; wide and heavy, carved of gold with a vine of flowers around the outside. And on the inside it had his initials -- not his ex-wife's, just his. Perhaps her's had her own initials inside it. Clarissa put it in her pocket. She found herself drawn back to the black business card. I will grant your fondest desire...

The woman was younger than she had expected. Very small, but heavy. With light blond hair that hung to her shoulders and turned under slightly at the end. Green eyes, wearing a knit dress of fuschia with a cowl collar. Clarissa sat beside her on a white couch and drank orange tea.

"How can you grant my fondest desire?" Clarissa asked her.

"Tell me what it is, first."

Clarissa took the wedding band out of the pocket of her shirt. "To marry Damion Bond. This is his wedding ring -- he just got divorced."

Annalisa took the ring, and closed her little hand around it. The nails weren't very long, and she wore pale, buff-colored nail polish. For a moment she closed her eyes, also, then she handed the ring back to Clarissa. "There," she said. "It is done."

Clarissa blinked. "What is?"

"Go and buy some new clothes -- with your height and build they should be flashy and sexy. Start wearing more makeup -- it could happen any time."

"You mean that's all there is to it? Don't I owe you any money?"

"When it happens, return to me and pay me whatever your desire is worth." Annalisa smiled and sipped her own tea."

"This is a nice place -- how do you make a living if you allow people to pay you what they want to?"

"Most of them feel their fondest desire is worth paying a lot for. Perhaps they fear they will lose it, if they don't pay me."

"I will return, then -- when it happens."

A few months passed, and Clarissa's new clothes weren't so exciting anymore. She was tired of wearing makeup all the time, and started to believe Annalisa was just a crank who liked to get people wound up and see how long they might stay that way. Then Damion Bond went on tour again, and when he played at The Oakland Coliseum, Clarissa was assigned to work the show. She had been promoted to Public Relations Assistant, which meant she would spend most of her time backstage, making certain press representatives got their seats and a chance to see the show but no chance at all of harassing the star. Perhaps this was it, she thought excitedly. Jack had never mentioned the wedding ring again, or asked her how much it had fetched at the AIDS auction. Of course, it hadn't fetched anything, because Clarissa wore it on a chain around her neck. Inside her clothes, usually, but this night she took it off and put it into her briefcase -- the dress she was wearing to the concert didn't conceal enough to hide the chain or the ring.

She saw him arrive, surrounded by his entourage. As if he could feel the power of her energy, he turned on the way to his dressing room, and his eyes met her's. His were a dark, stormy grey, and he smiled at her. But when he would have stopped his manager took his arm nervously and urged him on, glancing around at the large number of people in the backstage area. Bond shrugged him off but continued to walk. Clarissa felt a stab of adreneline -- had he actually been drawn to her by the power of Annalisa's love spell, or whatever it was?

There was a break in the middle of his set, when he came backstage to change his costume. Clarissa was talking to several photographers who weren't happy with the arrangements that kept them from taking pictures onstage. As she tried to explain that this was Bond's rule, not her's, she saw him emerge from his dressing room. During the first half of the show he had worn his habitual black -- leather pants and jacket, black silk shirt. Now he wore a white suit, double-breasted and looking like something out of Guys and Dolls. Clarissa wondered where he had found a white felt fedora. She longed to get away from the squabbling photographers, and they gave her the chance when they realized this was a good opportunity to get some shots of Bond before he went back onstage.

Clarissa saw the girl standing next to the wall, though nobody else seemed to be paying her any attention. She wondered what she was doing there; she wore no backstage pass, and didn't seem to have any business in the area. In fact, she had been standing in exactly the same spot for quite a while. Clarissa started towards her, but was still a little way away when she saw the knife. Bond was standing between her and the girl, and the girl was headed straight for him. Why don't any of them see her, Clarissa thought; then she realized that they were at the wrong angle, and by the time they did notice her, she'd probably have the knife in his back. That seemed to be her objective, in any case.

"Get down! Behind you, Mr. Bond!" Clarissa yelled, and launched herself from her four-inch heels directly on top of the rock star. They both went down and the girl plunged her knife into the air, toppling over beside them and screaming curses at Damion, for whom she had apparently been a one-night stand at some time. Clarissa landed on top of Damion, and finally the security guards seemed to have a clue that something was wrong, because they started towards the girl at a run. She took off in the direction of the stage, pursued by two of the guards.

Damion found himself looking up into the face of the beautiful redhead he'd seen earlier. She was wearing a low-cut black dress, which presented a magnificent view of her ample bosom. "Well, hello," he said to Clarissa. "How very nice to have you on top of me. You've definitely made my evening."

Clarissa rolled sideways, attempting to keep her dress from rising too high in the skirt or plunging too low in the bodice. Damion's manager and one of the security guards leaned down to help her up. "She saved your life, Damion," the man said in an awed tone. "That girl was gonna stab you!"

Damion got to his feet alone, brushing off the white suit. "And I certainly never forget a debt." The smile he gave Clarissa made her feel weak and hot at the same time. "Join me for a drink at my hotel after the concert? One of my people will drive your car over for you."

Clarissa opened her mouth to accept, and it was as if she could hear Annalisa's voice inside her head, accent and everything. "Is this your fondest desire?" It asked. "If not, turn him down."

"Thank you," she heard herself saying, "But I've had a long day. Perhaps another time."

She never learned what he might have said next, because the stage manager came to get him. But as he turned away, he gave her an assessing look. When she arrived at the concert the following night, there was a note from him waiting at the box office. And with the note was a dozen long-stemmed white roses. "Have you had another long day, or would you accompany me to a party tonight? Don't say you're not dressed for it, because any party in a SOMA loft means you could go naked and nobody would notice -- except me, that is."

Now Clarissa was glad she'd turned him down the night before. And glad she was wearing a black layered-chiffon skirt and moire jacket. She wondered just how hard he would try to get that glimpse of what was underneath. Very hard, as it turned out. And the more he pressed her to come back to his hotel with him, the more Annalisa's voice urged her to resist. But he was leaving the following day, and if she didn't go with him now, how would she ever have the chance to see him again?

Resist she did, and said goodbye to him after the party, knowing he was angry with her and that she probably wouldn't hear from him again. When she arrived at work the following morning, however, she learned he'd asked for her to work his tour, and if she accepted, she'd be gone for four months. It meant sacrificing an entire semester, and her last one as well. Still...the next day she set out for Los Angeles, where Damion Bond was playing three concerts.

Three weeks later in Denver, he faced her across breakfast in his suite. This was on his invitation, as it was every morning after an evening of attempting unsuccessfully to seduce her. "Clari," he said, "I have to admit you're a damned good public relations woman. But you and I both know why I had you assigned to the tour. Why did you give up a semester of college in order to do it?"

"Because it's good experience -- it'll look good on my resume. I can finish in the fall."

"Am I flattering myself that you wanted to be in my company?" He sipped black coffee.

"I enjoy your company very much, as I think I've told you a number of times." Clarissa could feel the cold metal of the wedding ring lying between her breasts.

"Then are you ever planning to make love with me, or is it your lifetime goal to see me frustrated?"

Clarissa stared at him silently for a moment, eating a spoonful of fruit salad. She couldn't remember ever wanting a man so much in her life, but she knew all he wanted would be satisfied after one night together. And that certainly wasn't her fondest desire. "Are you saying you can't find enough women to satisfy you? Or that you're afraid of AIDS? There are plenty available at every concert -- use a condom and spermicidal jelly."

For a moment he looked like he might hit her. Then his grip on the coffee cup relaxed. "I don't want just any woman. I want you. What's your problem, anyway?"

"I'm in love with you."

He blinked, then poured himself another cup of coffee. "We arrive in Reno next week. Let's get married."

Damion's people managed to keep the press from discovering he was marrying Clarissa until after the event was over. In Reno, this was rather a brief occurance anyway, and Clarissa knew she had been cheated somehow. She always dreamed of a big garden wedding with lots of people and a chocolate wedding cake. Now she wouldn't even have a honeymoon until the tour was over. But she had achieved her goal, and she couldn't have asked for a better wedding night. In fact, she hoped his enthusiasm wouldn't be quite so ardent for the rest of her life; if it was, she'd never have any energy left to work. Sex just seemed to make him more animated and alive -- he gave the best shows of the tour after the marriage. Perhaps frustration really had been eating away at him, she thought, and perhaps...just possibly he was a little in love with her, too.

Six months later, she still wasn't sure. After the tour and a month in Vancouver for their honeymoon, they arrived back at what Clarissa termed 'the fortress on the hill' in Mill Valley. Damion's house was about as modernistic as it could get without being a geodesic dome, built of concrete and glass, and filled with uncomfortable furniture. He didn't quibble when Clarissa replaced the furnishings with pieces guests could actually sit on; he wasn't bothered by her redecorating as long as she didn't touch his office (pigpen, she called it, but she let it be) and he was the most complacent of husbands as long as she was in his bed every night. At least, that was the way it seemed on the surface. But she began to realize that in important matters, Damion always got his way. She quit her job and went to work for KBAM, the largest radio station in San Francisco, doing an evening talk show. This suited Damion because he was usually rehearsing in the evenings, and he hated to get up in the mornings. It suited Clarissa, too, but after she'd been at the station a few weeks she found out that Damion had engineered the job for her. Well, she decided, she should have expected it. She had her fondest desire, and how could life be any better than that.

The second thing was her last college semester. Damion considered college a waste of time, and convinced Clarissa to take only a few classes in the afternoons. She wouldn't have enough credits to graduate, but there was always the spring, she supposed. After all, she was already way ahead of her contemporaries as far as a career went. So that didn't bother her too much, either.

One night at dinner, Clarissa discovered what Damion expected of her. "Clari," he said, "You're a great cook. My first wife didn't know what the kitchen was for."

Clarissa shrugged. "I'm not big on frozen food, and it's a drag to eat out every night. We do it enough as it is."

"You'll make a terrific mother. I'd like to get started on that project now, Clari."

She stared at him blankly. "Huh?" She finally managed.

"Children. A family. You know -- first you get married and then you start a family."

"Who the hell said so? This isn't the fifties -- why didn't you ever start one with your first wife?"

"She didn't want to. I'll be thirty this year, Clari -- I need to have children now, or I'll be too old to enjoy them."

"I'm twenty-two and I don't want any yet. I've never really thought about it, and I don't know if I want any ever."

She'd seen that hard look in his eyes before, directed at her when she offered to find him women to sleep with. It was what kept people in line, what kept them from cheating him, what made nobody want to cross him. Clarissa didn't want to, either, because she suddenly realized she didn't know him all that well. She hoped he wasn't some kind of a latent abuser. He put down his fork and pushed away his plate. Then he rose, laying his napkin on top of the plate. "This isn't a discussion, Clarissa. Either you have my children when I want you to, or you leave this house." He turned and walked out of the dining room. A short time later she heard his Jaguar back out of the garage and go zooming down the hill. She didn't see him again that night, and when he returned the following morning it was nearly noon and he went straight to bed. She left for the radio station wondering what she was going to do. Suddenly her fondest desire had turned into a nightmare. Part of her was tempted to give in to him, knowing that his own childhood had been one of orphanages and foster homes, and he was probably looking for stability. But the larger part was telling her that if she allowed him to rule her life in something so important, she'd never have another thought or action to call her own. The larger part won out, and that left only one thing to do.

That evening, Damion was in the studio. By the time Clarissa arrived home at six, he had already left. It took her three hours to pack the things she wanted to take with her. This included some clothes, her college books and the possessions she'd brought with her. Luckily there were some cartons in the storage room; she only needed five. At ten two friends with a van arrived to help her transport them -- she had been fortunate they were free that night; even more fortunate there was an empty bedroom in their big old Berkeley house. It had seven bedrooms, and there were already six college students living there; Clarissa knew it was going to be an enormous change for her. Before marrying Damion she'd lived on her own in a tiny studio. And after marrying him she'd had a short period of luxury. But she didn't care. From now on, if she had anymore fond desires she'd keep them to herself.

Damion tried everything he could to entice Clarissa back to him, including promising not to press her on the issue of children. But she hung up on him when he telephoned the radio station, refused to talk to him when he came to the university, and wouldn't give him the telephone number of the house she was living in. It was as if he had pushed the one button she refused to have activated, and until she was gone, he hadn't realized just how much she meant to him. More than his first wife ever had, or the two live-in girlfriends. If he could just find some way to get her back, he told himself, he'd treat her better. But that seemed impossible.

Six months later, after Clarissa graduated from college, Damion knew it was a lost cause. He started seeing someone else, and he didn't know if she was dating anyone. Neither of them had filed for a divorce, but Clarissa signed a pre-nuptial agreement before they were wed (it had taken a midnight flight from San Francisco to Reno on the part of his lawyer to get it there in time), and he knew she didn't want anything from him anyway. That in itself made her different from the other women in his life. The night she walked out on him, she'd left her wedding ring and the emerald and diamond engagement ring he'd bought her during their honeymoon in Vancouver.

His new album was due to hit the stores in a month, and soon he'd be making public appearances again. He decided to go to Berkeley and see his friend Jack. Maybe the AIDS jar could use another contribution. When he arrived, the shop was being redecorated after the earthquake contruction was finally completed. Jack was supervising the movement of one of the coffins back into the front window. When he saw Damion, he waved.

"Hey, man -- been awhile! Busy with your new bride, huh?"

Damion removed two brushed gold wedding bands from the pocket of his black t-shirt, but left the engagement ring in there. "She left me. Thought your AIDS jar could use another contribution." He arced both rings towards where the ceramic jar sat on a counter, and they landed amongst the bills and coins with a tinkle. Jack watched them go. "Left you? Clari? I don't believe it."

Damion shrugged. "Hey, I'm a bust with women. Finally got it -- now I'll just read books. Anything new that's good?"

"Karen Haber's new book in the 'mutant' series is out. You're a fan of her's, right?"

"Yeah; another one Clari converted me to. You seen 'er lately?"

"Sure, just about once a week now she's interviewing local people. I'm sorry, Damion. She never said anything."

"Up until about a month ago I thought I could get 'er back. Once the ring goes in the jar it means I'm giving up."

Damion left the shop with five new books, and decided to check out the other places on the street. Next door was one he'd never been in -- a little shop that sold magic and occult supplies. He was looking in the window when he noticed the black business card.

Annalisa smiled at Damion as she poured him a cup of tea. "Did you bring something belonging to your wife, for me to hold?"

Damion removed the ring from the pocket of his silk shirt and handed it to her. She closed her eyes and cradled the ring in one closed palm. After returning from Vancouver, Clarissa took Annalisa Damion's first wedding ring and a check for a thousand dollars as payment. The psychic wasn't surprised by what had transpired in the interim.

"Tell me your fondest desire, Mr. Bond. I see it has something to do with your wife, Clarissa."