The Man-Stealer, part two

Leta didn't care very much about her reputation. At least that was the impression she gave to most people. On several evenings a week she could be found at one of several drinking establishments, enjoying her libation and chatting with any number of men. She had bright blue eyes and a winning smile, and as her niece June told her again and again, she looked beautiful. Leta liked to look pretty. She washed her hair and bathed frequently. She wore fashionable clothes. She styled her hair, and wore perfume and make-up.

Some of those around her called her “Jezebel” after the Sidonite Queen of Israel, wife of King Ahab and arch-nemesis of the Israelite prophet Elijah. As any Christian or Jew knew, once her husband was killed in battle, the Queen was in mortal danger. She dressed in her finest clothes and put on make-up to greet the conqueror, but the palace servants did not let her get that far. Instead, they threw her off the balcony, and, as ghastly as it sounds, she was torn apart by her own dogs. For many, that she wore make-up and dressed was her punishable sin (instead of idolatry and murder), and so they used that against any woman who deigned to feel beautiful.

Leta ignored them. When she was chatting with men, when she was having a drink or two, when she dressed in a form-enhancing dress, a garter and stockings, styled her hair, and put on lipstick, she felt more womanly than any of those around her could imagine. She also felt powerful, and after two terrible marriages in which she was disrespected and abused, she relished the feeling.

While she still didn’t have good sense with regard to the type of men she attracted, she had enough sense to only remain in relationship with them for a few months, a week or even a night.

Sometimes she went two weeks without connecting to anyone, but something inside of her, something she could not explain, would awaken. It was a kind of emptiness that needed to be filled, a hunger that needed to be fed. If she waited too long, this anxiety would become desperation, and she would make a poor choice of companions. While many of her encounters were pleasant affairs, there were from time to time, men with little respect for women at all, men seeking their own pernicious pleasures. In these experiences, she was slapped, twisted, or if her companion was highly aggressive, thrown against an automobile or wall, with her dress lifted, garter and stockings ripped away. When he was finished, he pushed her away roughly, leaving her more often than not lying on the ground.

After the man was gone, she would rise, pull herself together, wipe off any dirt or blood with her handkerchief and make her way home. She sometimes swore she would stop, but several days later the darkness would grow, and she would need to address it.

This lifestyle suited her, she believed, and she pursued it with relish for six years until her daughter introduced her to the man that she was planning to marry. Leta was happy for the young couple, and a rekindling of her own desire to be married lit inside of her.