Chloe and Zoe

Chloe and Zoe were joined at the torso, twin sisters who shared the same beating heart; identical opposites, only much more so, they distanced themselves, unable to part.

They appeared in my office one rare rainy day, when the rain rinsed the smog all the way to the sea; when I saw them there waiting, one calm, one dismayed, I shuffled my schedule and made time for us three.

I surreptitiously spied on them, quietly sitting on the waiting room sofa's luxuriant leather; stunned by their beauty and nearly forgetting the strange living membrane that joined them together.

Demure Chloe the taller, with pale freckled skin, her red wavy hair wild and thick as a mane, Zoe the smaller brunet, dark and thin, with black eyes that broadcast desires quite plain.

I reminded myself I had numerous patients whose conditions had altered a sound self-esteem; no matter their sickness or grotesque mutation, I helped them discover their beauty beneath.

Among my past clients albino guitarists and homebound unfortunates grossly obese; the newlywed vampires perhaps the bizarrest, but the Hollywood undead are on the increase.

And of course I see models and actors galore Who hide their neuroses behind plastic beauty; These two famous sisters, though hard to ignore, Could never endanger my firm sense of duty.

I ushered them into my office and noted how Zoe's outfit was revealingly cut; she sensed the appraisal and practically gloated and colored her gait with the hint of a strut.

Pale Chloe dressed plainly in t-shirt and sweats striving to look wholly unlike her twin; she averted her eyes, just as plainly upset, at this unsettling setting she found herself in.

They sat facing me on the naugahyde loveseat, small smoldering Zoe the dominant sister. Chloe considered this chat indiscrete but as Zoe was driven, she didn't resist her.

We started with small talk-the traffic, the rain, The lack of street parking, which markets were cheaper; Zoe was talkative, Chloe restrained, And I sensed it was time to start digging deeper.

I explained that I typically taped all my sessions but that they could request that I take notes instead; at this Zoe smiled and remarked her impression that progress required inhibitions be shed.

And so Zoe smiled and started their story that began twenty-six and a half years before. Chloe sat mutely, conciliatory, accepting me as their first real counselor.

* * * * *

The sisters were born on rich Southern soil to snake-waving parents who gibbered in tongues; on the fall equinox, when the summertime broil cooled down, helping farmers get harvesting done.

The labor was long; and as it grew longer the weather turned wicked and rain lashed the house; the bedside attendants just prayed all the stronger; their pa shouting psalms to calm his screaming spouse.

Near midnight the storm reached its thundering peak, the wind howling madly, the lightning intense, then an ear-splitting shrill hysterical shriek became weak babies' cries in the candlelit silence.

Its energies spent, the fierce storm abated; The birthing room quiet, except for the twins; Ma and pa cuddled the lives they'd created Knowing pain newly ended meant pain to begin.

Hardship is labeled a curse or a gift, Depending upon one's will to overcome; It can strengthen connections or encourage rifts And divides those who triumph from those that succumb.

The lucky can bury sharp torments of youth; The strong can do battle against hated rivals; But the pain we repress has the keen edge of truth, And the spirit can scar even in its survival.

The sisters were blessed to have two loving parents Who treasured them as two of God's perfect creations His splendid design, and by no means aberrant; The strength of that love made a sturdy foundation.

They needed it as schoolyard laughter and taunts Threatened to shatter their frail self-esteem; They needed it too as their womanly wants Were only fulfilled in their shared world of dreams.

Their parents died walking one day, hand in hand, Towards a twin rainbow a storm left behind; A lightning bolt took them as if it were planned, As if they were reclaimed by something divine.

The twins buried their parents; and after they mourned, Their spirits were stirred by an internal clock; They followed the sunset and became reborn In the golden glow bathing the Venice Boardwalk.

* * * * *

The boardwalk was shelter and solace to those who never fit in with the bland milling crowd; the ones with pierced nipples and rubbery clothes, compelled to live lifestyles not elsewhere allowed.

The sisters' new store rented tandem-seat bikes for couples to ride down the long beachfront trail; their business took off, and it seemed overnight they rebuilt their shop on a much larger scale.

Their shop became famous, and after a month they hired two gay guys to be bike mechanics; Chloe and Zoe worked the counter up front, while the other two toiled in the newly-built annex.

Lightning and rattlesnakes strike in a flash but nearly as quickly the twin sisters' fame; soon film crews arrived, dangling bundles of cash, and the sisters succumbed to the lure of acclaim.

The twins started with cameos in artsy flicks that examined the links between body and soul; they played victims worshipped by scarred lunatics or objects of lust spied upon through peepholes.

In L.A. all substance is judged by its styling, and the sisters had style uniquely their own; they were at once gorgeous, grotesque, and beguiling, yet to all the twins' shared heart stayed unknown.

Their cult status brought them the Tinseltown crowd of sycophants, predators, assholes and dykes; Chloe detested them all, and aloud Acknowledged to Zoe her profound dislike.

But the stardom fulfilled Zoe's need to belong she loved the attention and basked in the glow; for the sake of her twin, Chloe tried to be strong but sorrow tugged at her heart like a dark undertow.

Chloe imagined moments of privacy; and flashes of freedom; and minutes alone; But felt herself chained to a shared destiny, And one day demanded a life of her own.

The sisters paused then; their silence hung thick Recalling that day when they hated each other; Remembering shrieking and scratching and kicks Like dual souls flailing against being smothered.

But calm followed tears; and next came the laughter As the sisters talked for the first time as equals; And they laughed at the Hollywood choice they made after: The twins were committed to making a sequel.

* * * * *

A sequel? I asked them. A sequel, they said. They smiled at me oddly, their eyes even odder. We want you to join in our journey ahead. We want to have kids and our kids need a father.

And then in a flash it all came into focus: How had they discerned my soul's deprivation? But up through the snow rose an eager red crocus, Bursting to undergo new exploration.

That first evening out we ate seafood for dinner And saw the two halves of a bad double feature; I was as nervous as any other beginner And I felt like a student instead of a teacher.

We strolled through the human detritus of Venice Past poseurs and hipsters and prophets who ranted; But nothing we witnessed could signify menace; We'd cast a spell on ourselves and we were enchanted.

The twins guided me to a duplex converted To one spacious unit they'd just decorated With fertility symbols and water that spurted From a fountain where a double helix gyrated.

Sweet incense burned, and the music that played was born in the desert dunes near Babylon; small sculpted idols of onyx and jade hid among leaves green as the Amazon;

We drank fiery liquid from heavy clay cups That heightened the colors and sharpened the smells My lust like a geyser about to erupt Which only sweet flesh had the power to quell.

Overwhelmed by an impulse we couldn't resist, We coalesced on the couch, all embracing, I nuzzled pale Chloe's neck, then softly kissed To her pink velvet lips, with my gentle tongue tracing;

And turned to find Zoe's tongue thrust in my mouth, Where it eagerly darted and probed like an eel Swimming in an oasis after eons of drought, Dancing and leaping with unrestrained zeal;

My senses assaulted, I grew dizzy and kneeled And looked up to see the twins haloed in light; They regarded me too, and begin to unpeel And I felt blessed to witness this mystical sight.

The twins' hands and fingers seemed choreographed; Their sheer blouses dropped and the customized bra The sisters created, their own handicraft, Was slowly unstrapped, and I knelt there in awe.

Can I touch you? I gestured. Their smiles gave permission. So wide-eyed in wonder I touched where they joined; Acknowledging God as the only magician To make satin skin and the steel in my groin.

I kissed them in turn as my hands found the catches That undid their skirts, which then slid to the floor; I wanted to lap from their fine fragrant snatches Delectable nectars not tasted before.

Our subsequent progress might be called ungainly, But laughing and naked we lay on the bed, A soft spinning circle with symbols arcanely Carved into the headboard and sewn in the spread.

A lava lamp, morphing, cast light on our skin; I kissed down two bellies to find hidden treasures; My untiring tongue leapt between twin and twin, And drank their sweet juices and time had no measure.

While joyfully praying at Chloe's red altar Zoe's hand joined me in pleasing her sister; We found perfect rhythm and marched without falter Until Chloe came with the force of a twister.

Zoe, though, then pulled me up face to face And reached down to take me and guide me inside Tears welled in my eyes; I knew her secret place Had never known men; and yet she opened wide

And thrust up to meet me, our eyes ever locked, A sharp inward breath and her lovely face stern; But her face slowly softened and as one we rocked And flushed Chloe, smiling, awaited her turn.

* * * * *

Our first night together extended till dawn; Our sleep interrupted by sirens of need; We woke to their songs and a new marathon Of flesh adulation would thereby proceed.

For months afterward (when not hostage to work) We spent countless hours exploring techniques To find points of pleasure and stimulate quirks That launched us to ecstasy and left us weak.

* * * * *

The sisters' taut abdomens push on the other; Pale white and freckled against lustrous brown. Chloe and Zoe can't wait to be mothers And under my feet I feel roots spreading down.