Bleeding Heart

Petra Pallor quelled a tear as she cleaned, remembering a time when she was a young, eager wench. She would do anything for Ben; who’s youth would endure.

She was born Petra Bartok in Bekescsaba, Hungary; close to the border of Romania. Petra’s parents were Nazi sympathizers and raised Petra and her siblings, Annuska, Kati and Rikard; to emulate their German countrymen.

Petra’s siblings did their best to comply, but Petra was a dreamer. She wanted to be a ballerina. Her idle was Nora Kovach. She begged her parents to let her attend ballet classes. Such a luxury was unheard of and it did not fit in with their ideology. She was repeatedly told no but still she would ask them. She would escape into the fields behind their house and dance. Here, her spirit could be free, and she could pursue her dreams.

When her idol, Kovach and her husband defected to the US in 1953, Petra decided she too, would go to the US. Hungary was going through a time of great political upheaval in the 1950s and there were many protests. Petra would follow the protesters, mainly out of curiosity but also to escape her stifling home environment. Her family had moved to a crowded apartment complex during this period. Petra had built up a network of friends and supporters in the building which would serve her well someday.

It was 1956 when Petra decided she would leave Hungary. She had been planning her get away for months, keeping a suitcase under her bed with clothes and a few personal belongings. She could pass the suitcase to a confidant on the first floor of the building when the time was right. She knew there would be a large throng of college student protestors at the train station that afternoon. When she came home from work, she did not go to her family’s apartment but to her friend’s apartment on the first floor. The friend supplied her with sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. Her friend told her that he, too, would someday defect to the US. He wished her luck and said, “See you on the other side.”

Petra smuggled onto a train to Budapest. She established herself for a time in Budapest to secure enough money to leave the country; her destination, the Big Apple.

She had hoped to become a dancer in New York but like so many other innocents, she was victimized by a shyster, posing as an agent. His name was Stephan Forsythe Pallor. He was attractive, in a slimy sort of way. He was much older than Petra. He had salt and pepper, longish hair, slicked back. He wore pinstriped suits with a carnation in the lapel. When he met someone for the first time, he always gave the impression that it was you who was glad to meet him.

Petra had been seeing flyers papered all over town for a show in the Bronx, A Pallor Production, it read. The flyer had advertised dancing girls, clowns, acrobats and midget wrestlers. Her hope was to make an impression on the show’s promoter to let her dance in his company. She put on her very best skirt, blouse and flats. She topped off her outfit with a small, simple hat and gloves. She took the bus downtown to see the show’s premier.

Stephan Pallor noticed her in the crowd. She was maybe not the prettiest girl there but she was attractive, young and naive. Like a blood hound, he could smell her naiveté. When it was time for the show to begin, he jumped on the stage taking the mic from the show’s MC. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a wonderful show for you planned this evening. I’m Stephan Pallor, the show’s producer and talent scout. If any one of you out there has a talent, be sure to come see me after the show. My office is right behind the theater. Enjoy the show. Oh, and here’s your MC, Ted Vera.”

With that, Ted introduced the dancing girls, The Swankies. The band slapped out a terrible rendition of Elvis’s All Shook Up with an even worse singer to mash up the lyrics. The girls shimmied, bumped and grinded all over the stage. The crowd cheered, whooped and hollered. Coins, dollar bills and popcorn were thrown at the stage. Petra knew this was a far cry from ballet, but she wanted desperately to start somewhere.

After the show, she sought out Mr. Pallor. “Come in! Come in!” he said as she knocked on the partially open door.

“Hello Mister, mister…”

“Pallor. It’s Pallor but you can call me Stevie.” He sized her up. Not bad… not bad at all. And you, Miss…?”

“Oh, Bartok. Miss Petra Bartok.”

“You’ve got an accent. You German?”

“No, I am Hungarian.”

“Crazy. Crazy, baby.”

“So, you got a talent?”

“Yes, well, that is, I would like to be a dancer.”

“Got any experience?”

“Oh, yes! I dance all the time, since I was little girl.”

“No, sister, I mean professionally. You know, ever gotten paid for it?

Petra could feel heat rising from her chest to her cheeks. “No, I never get paid to do it.”

“Well, that’s okay, sweetie. I am a professional talent scout and I think you got talent.”

He licked his lips and tried to surmise her bra size. “Tell you what, classy chassis; you go next door and see my girl, Hannah. She’ll fix you up with a costume. You come back here tomorrow morning, say 8 o’clock…”

“Oh, Mr. Stevie, I have to work. I came come later, after work, if is okay?”

“Swell, swell. What time you get off work?”

“I work until 5 o’clock. Is okay?”

“Yeah. Come and see me as soon as you get off.”

Petra couldn’t believe it! She must really be lucky. The first time she tries to get into show business and has gotten the attention of an actual talent scout!

Petra had been working as a domestic for lazy, rich ladies and their fat, pudding stained brats. She couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Radovitch that she was quitting; quitting to become a famous dancer. She could hardly wait until 5 o’clock.

She got to Pallor’s office at 5:25. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry. “Hello Mr. Stevie. I am sorry I took long. The bus was late and…”

“Slow down, cool it doll. You’re just in time for dinner.”

“But we should talk about the dancing, no?”

“This is the Big Apple, toots. This is called a business dinner. Shall we?”

Pallor held the door to his pink ’57 Chrysler New Yorker. Petra felt like a princess. He took her to Gino’s Café. During dinner at Gino’s, she kept waiting for him to bring up “the dancing.” What he did do was talk about himself, the dough he brings in and how his business was booming.

Finally, he said, “Did the costume fit?”

“Oh, yes. A little tight but I think okay.”

“Good, good. I want you in Saturday’s performance so you need to come to rehearsal tomorrow morning, 9 am sharp.”

“But my job.”

“It’s in the bag. You work for me now. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line.”

He produced a type written document from his jacket pocket with her name on it, just below the dotted line.

She looked at him in puzzlement. “I sign? How do you know I can dance? How do I get paid?”

“So many questions! Are you writing a book? Listen, this is chili; a good deal. I know talent when I see it and you got talent. All you gotta do is sign and I… will make you… a star…”

Petra signed it. She only wished her parents and her siblings could see her now. She was on the verge of fame and fortune.

After dinner, instead of driving back to his office, he took her to a park. “You good at games, Petra?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever play a game called Back Seat Bingo?”

“No, what is that?”

“I’ll show ya.”

Pallor leaned in to kiss her and she backed away. “How can I show ya if you move away? Now, let’s try it again.”

He leaned in again and kissed her. She didn’t kiss him back. “Loosen up, cookie. You wanna be a star, right? This is how stars are made.”

Pallor continued kissing and then fondling her. Petra felt herself stiffen. She had never even kissed a boy back in her home country. She had come close but she had heard stories about boys taking advantage of girls and always stopped them when they tried. Pallor seemed not to notice or not to care.

She whimpered and said “no, please no” over and over. “You’re gonna be a star,” he huffed in her ear. His hands fumbled with her blouse, curtly opening the buttons to get to her breasts. He yanked the bra up and sucked her nipple. Then he fingered up her skirt with one hand and with the other, he just kept stroking his penis. Then he plunged two of his fingers into her vagina. She wasn’t getting wet but he didn’t care. He sniffed his fingers and licked them. Petra just sat fixed and mute, staring at him as if she were watching a movie. He was hurting her but she did not cry out. He covered her mouth with his and rammed his tongue down her throat. That’s when he started to thrust his penis into her.

The jolt of him inside her stunned her. She unleashed a blaring shriek. “That’s it, baby! You like it baby, I know you like it,” he kept saying until he screeched, “Yes! Yeah baby! That’s it! You’re a fuckin’ star! Bingo, baby, bingo!”

Then he just slouched back in the seat and zipped up his pants. He primed his cigarette lighter and reached for his cigarettes. He lit up and handed the cigarette to Petra.

Petra was looking down at her skirt. The only good skirt she had. It was now bloody and soaked with tears and semen.

She turned her head away from the cigarette. “Suit yourself.” He puffed away as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow morning, 9 am sharp. Don’t keep Hannah waiting. You need to be ready for Saturday’s performance.”

He finished his cigarette and subsequently offered to drive her home; like a gentleman.

Petra felt trapped. She had signed on the dotted line. She didn’t even know what the contract said but she showed up at 9 am for rehearsal. Hannah showed her the ropes while Pallor looked on and lusted.

She learned that she was to be called a “hoochie koochie” dancer from Bud the Stud, Star Midget Wrestler. The midget wrestlers were kind to her, more so than Hannah, the other dancers or Mr. Pallor ever were. Bud was also very enamored with Petra. Bud followed her around pretty much everywhere she went. The other cast of entertainers said he was following his mini radar, AKA his penis. Petra did give in to him once because she was lonely and he treated her kindly and his love making was gentle even if she did have to do most of the work.

Petra danced in the show in her tight-fitting outfit; bumping and grinding with the other Swankies. Weeks wore on and she became more and more disheartened. Pallor didn’t pay her much, certainly not as much as the other dancers. She was new, he told her and would earn more when she became more experienced. With that, came the expectation of sexual favors. Petra was not the only girl he was having sex with, he staked his claim on any female under his employ. But Petra was his favorite which made the other women jealous.

After nearly a month with the company, Petra missed a period. She became alarmed because her cycles were extremely regular. She had no friends to speak of except Bud the Stud. She couldn’t confide in him about something like this, it was much too personal. Her already growing depression was deepening and it was affecting her performances which did not go unnoticed by Pallor.

One afternoon, during one of Pallor’s rape sessions with Petra, he warned her that she had better snap out of this mood she was in. He wasn’t going to keep some sourpuss broad in his company. That’s when she broke down and told him she was late. He looked at her for a long time and considered the consequences. To Petra’s surprise, he said, “Then let’s get married. I always wanted a kid.”

So, Petra became Mrs. Petra Pallor. They were married in a no-frills, civil ceremony at the courthouse. She was expected to continue performing until she began to show. Nothing much changed in their relationship except that now she lived with him and was expected to keep his house.

When she began to show, she felt even more isolated. Hannah worked her very hard and gave her additional steps to learn in their routine. The rift between her and the other members of the company was growing; only Bud the Stud stuck by her.

She eventually told Bud that she was pregnant and that is why she married Pallor. Bud became outraged and asked her how did she know the kid wasn’t his? He would have married her even if she weren’t pregnant. That was the kindest gesture anyone had made her since she had come to the US.

She spent most of her time with the wrestlers or on her own. She would often steal away to a diner nearby. There, she could still dream of being a famous ballet dancer. She enjoyed sitting at a booth by herself and watching people, trying to imagine what their lives were like.

One afternoon, she was sipping a coffee when a man walked in that she had never seen before. She got to know the regulars and did see the occasional stranger but this man was different. He was very distinguished; tall, very handsome and well dressed. Black hair and dark eyes, Petra fancied he looked like Elvis Presley. Smartly dressed in tailored, fitted, black clothing, and he smelled divine. Every woman in the diner noticed him. The men couldn’t seem to look away either.

Time seemed to slow as he walked in. The hostess just stood there with her mouth gaping. He flashed her a smile and she appeared to be under a spell. He walked passed her and surveyed the diner. Petra wondered what a man such as this was doing in a diner. He looked right at her. She was now entranced. He made his way towards her and sat at the booth directly in front of her. He barely looked at the menu when the waitress came to take his order. She could swear there were no words spoken between them but she wrote on her pad and scurried away.

Petra tried to look away; what must he think of her! He carried an elegant cane with the head of a dragon and wore a ring with a large, black opal. When he finished his meal, he walked towards her. Petra’s eyes grew larger and she could feel that her mouth was open. He sat across from her and shared her booth.

When he spoke, the words were in Hungarian. Petra excitedly engaged in conversation. His name was Beniamin Cojocaru and, he needed a housekeeper. He had a large house in upstate New York and had recently lost his housekeeper. Meeting someone from the old country was such a find for him; he would pay very well and offer room and board if she would accept the position.

“Oh, yes! I am a very good housekeeper! I have references and everything!”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she realized her situation. She was married with a child on the way and in a binding contract with her husband and boss. Her sudden joy began to fade.

Beniamin sensed her discomfort. “The house is very large and I can accommodate your family.”

She hadn’t told him a thing about her “family.” He offered to meet with her husband. Beniamin Cojocaru and Stephan Pallor had a private meeting. When the meeting was over, Pallor all but had his bags packed. And so, Petra and Pallor moved to upstate New York where Petra kept house and Pallor did a lot of work by phone or commuted back to the office where he would spend extended periods of time.

Finally, a little happiness crept into her life. Mr. Cojocaru was very cognizant of her condition. He hired additional help and gave her more of a supervisory role. Petra thrived in her new position.

She was climbing the stairs one morning when she noticed a sharp, abdominal pain. She tried to ignore it but the pain intensified. She managed to get herself to the bathroom where she doubled over and collapsed; writhing in pain. Large clots of blood collected around her. She began to sob partially from the pain and partially from remorse from not only the loss of the child but what would this mean for her position?

She began cleaning the blood and decided she would not tell anyone about the miscarriage. She changed into a black dress with a white, lace collar and stuffed a pillow in her panties. She took the clothing she had worn to the trash. She would tell no one of her misfortune. Black would become her signature color.

Mr. Cojocaru noticed the change in her. He began working more closely with her and inviting her to his room for reading aloud and conversation. Pallor never said anything about the growing closeness between his wife and her boss; as long as the gravy train was still rolling.

One evening, Mr. Cojocaru asked Petra to put down the book they were reading aloud. He moved toward her; she rose from her chair and started to speak but he put two fingers gently to her mouth. He moved forward, she, backward as if in a dance until they reached his bed. She felt her heart quicken and her breathing became deeper. She had never been in an encounter with a man where she felt such anticipation.

He put his hands on her waist and one knee on the bed, maneuvering her to lie down. His hands were so near her yet not touching her as he seemed to orchestrate her clothes to remove themselves; or was she doing it herself, she wasn’t sure. She held her breath as her pillow fell to the floor. He didn’t seem to notice… or care. She offered no resistance as he raised her arms behind her to put them into shackles attached to the headboard. He had long nails, had she never noticed them before? He ran them over her naked body so slowly that she felt the hairs go erect all over. She marveled at the sight of his taught, flat stomach and his angry erection. He caressed her awaiting bare body with his tongue while inhaling greedily. His movements were hypnotic and she craved for more. She was aware of every move, every sensation; her response to him and his to her. She had swirling visions of colored lights and the sounds of moaning animals as he entered her, over and over. She surprised herself when she climaxed with an unfamiliar wail. He released a beastly shriek and that’s when she felt him sink his teeth into her neck. She climaxed yet again and felt herself go faint.

When she awoke, she was in her own bed next to Pallor. He was snoring loudly with rapid, shallow breaths. There was no need to sneak around, Pallor was immune to feelings and was too self-absorbed to notice his wife’s new-found happiness. Petra looked forward to the many nights of conversation and reading pleasure with her Maestru.

Petra had not had a regular period for months, even after her miscarriage. She presumed this was due to the trauma her body sustained. She noticed weight gain and peculiar cravings for uncooked meats. Her belly again swelled as if she had never suffered a misfortune. She and her Maestru continued their passionate love making. She felt an addiction to this man; she wanted to please him but he had other women coming to him in the night as well. She was in love with Cojocaru and could feel the life growing inside her. This was his child; hers and his.

Her obsession had desensitized her to the growing, physical weakness of her husband. His color was ashen and his eyes looked cloudy. He took to wearing an ascot which did not suit his plaid jackets. Though they shared the same bedroom and the same bed, they lived separate lives.

One of the maids mentioned to her that she noticed blood on the sheets when she made their beds. At first, she took this to be coming from her, perhaps she was spotting. The maid said the blood was on the pillow cases, mainly Mr. Pallor’s. She would have pay a bit more attention to her husband.

She was coming closer to the end of her pregnancy and Pallor stopped going to the office all together. He complained of dizziness and nausea; claimed he was unable to concentrate at work. He took to staying in bed and ignoring his business. Bud the Stud had stepped up and taken over operations while the boss was sick.

On the day that she was to deliver her child, the labor pains came so quickly and with such force that she was unable to move from her bed. Her screams alerted the household and they realized there was no time to get her to a hospital. Some of them had to make due as midwives and delivered Petra’s baby boy whom she named Kertner. They were startled by the appearance of the child. His skin color was grey, his eyes were black as coal; there seemed to be no pupils, just black orbs. His cries did not sound like those of a normal, healthy baby, they were low, moaning sounds. Petra was weak but did not appear to notice. This was her love child with the Maestru and she was quite proud.

In all the commotion, no one noticed Stephan Pallor lying dead next to his wife and her new baby. Petra seemed more annoyed that he was dead, as it was taking away from her happy moment. His skin looked completely devoid of color and moisture; his blue eyes had become grey as well as cloudy. There were several deep puncture wounds about his neck. Upon further inspection, there were puncture wounds over his entire body.

Ben Cojocaru had a private physician come to the house to do the official, final examination. The cause of death was listed as hypotension and anemia. He offered Petra polite condolences as did the rest of the staff.

The services and burial commenced in the cemetery lot behind the house. Bud the Stud, Hannah and the other Swankies were in attendance. The Maestru was not present. Petra clung tightly to her baby as she did since the day of his birth. The staff assumed the child gave her comfort as he was a reminder of her husband. Petra had finally awakened from her initial bliss of the birth and noticed the child’s odd appearance as well. She clung to the child not for comfort but for fear of losing him.

Bud the Stud had taken over the business and offered to marry Petra. She thanked him for his kind offer but told him that she was happy to be in Mr. Cojocaru’s employ as his chief housekeeper and would continue living under his roof.

The closeness and the sexual relationship she had enjoyed with her employer had also come to an end. He smiled seductively but did not act on any advances towards her. She had returned to being his trusted employee. It was Elvis and Priscilla all over again.

She noticed an increase in turnover of maids and more women paying her boss late night visits. She contacted Mr. Cojocaru’s private physician for a supply of birth control pills. In addition, she purchased several douche bags and spermicide. She told him that she did not want to become pregnant again. He did not question her but gave her plenty of refills on the prescription.

She was familiar with her boss’s love making and bondage rituals and knew that the women would be left alone for a time. When she knew, he would unceremoniously deposit them in a guest bedroom after he had had his fill, she would enter the room and douche their nearly comatose bodies with spermicide and force birth control pills down their throats. It was not that she cared for the women but was concerned that they would produce a creature such as she had borne.

She never told him that the child was his and was never sure if he knew it to be. She settled into her life as the head mistress of Beniamin Cojocaru’s house and kept a watchful eye on the product of their union.