Delilah the Divan Diva
Rex may have thought he was the one in charge, since he was the one who held the wallet. They used to say purse strings. He had his name on the lease, he paid the utilities, and he gave her an allowance for food and toiletries. And he thought that meant she was his.
Maybe in another day and time, he might have been her king, as his nom d’amour suggested to him. She had no idea if it was his real name or not. She just knew his expectations were that she was there for just him, whenever he pleased.
But her nom d’amour should have taught him something too, a lesson he failed to appreciate. She was Delilah. The one who had taken Samson’s powers from him. Just by taking what gave him strength. His hair. She seduced him till she learned what made him weak and gave him that as a present.
And this Delilah knew that Rex tied his prowess to his wallet.
Maybe he shouldn’t have been so specific about the rules and his schedule then. Because Delilah found a way to sneak past each and every one of them. To find a place where she could be the Reina to his Prince Regent. He may have set up the palace, but she sat on the throne.
Rex gave her the finest of linens and sweet meats. He said her loyalty made her worth any price. And he painted this picture of her sitting on a divan all day, waiting for him. Maybe bathing and painting her nails to get ready for him.
In a way she was. In a way she wasn’t. She had all her needs met by men that served her. Rex thought they were gay. He had met them all.
These men didn’t bluster about power and money. They talked about art and music. They didn’t bluster about women being weaker than men. Instead they looked up to even the washer woman and the maid. They gave gratitude for their time, excellence and service. Where he gave shame for their place in the pecking order. Rex earned no loyalty from the household staff. Delilah and her men did.
So these men around Delilah had Rex’s blessing to care for her. And she took full advantage of his blindness.
Rex thought he knew everything. Till the day he realized that he actually knew nothing.
And it was really too late and too mean of him to get mad. He had done it to himself after all.
Oh but he did it anyways. He got mad. At the air …that was all that was left for him to shout at.