Is There Still Sex in the City?

“But it is really seventy-five hundred a year.”

“I’m sorry. But I can’t afford to spend seventy-five hundred dollars a year on face cream.”

“But it is your face!” Krystal cried out, as if I were assailing the holy grail of womanhood. “It is what you present to the world. It is your passport to life.”

The word “passport” reminded me of my most recent passport photo taken six months earlier. I looked shockingly bad.

Nevertheless, my resolve was stronger than a bad passport photo.

I sighed deeply. “I just can’t.”

Sensing something wasn’t right, the older Russian guy strolled over.

“Is there a problem?” He looked from me to Krystal accusingly, as if we were both causing trouble in class. As if I weren’t following the script and Krystal better get me back on board.

“Nope,” I said, with a glance at Krystal. “No problem at all.”

“Krystal is gonna change your life. You’re gonna see. Whatever Krystal tell you to do, you’d better do it,” he reminded me. And he shook his finger.

Krystal announced that it was time to remove the mask.

This was easier said than done. Getting the goop off was tedious and time-consuming.

Everyone in the store crowded around to see the results. Of course, there weren’t any. But at that point, it didn’t matter.

Fake Beauty

With the goop off my face, I knew it was my last chance to break free. If I let them put the goop on the other side I was stuck there for another half hour. Thirty minutes of saying nyet. There was no way I was going to run out into the street with a face full of goop.

They knew this as well.

And so, no matter what excuses I made, the Russians batted them away by pointing out that I couldn’t possibly leave with one side of my face looking so much better than the other.

“I’ve got a good feeling about you,” Krystal said. “I really do think you were sent here for a reason. I make up my mind. I’m going to help you.”

“But—”

“You have a lot of friends, right?”

“Sure. I guess.”

“I tell you what. You and I are going to make a deal.”

I immediately seized on this as a possible way out of my dilemma. Even if I couldn’t afford the face cream, certainly I had friends who could?

“Yes, I have lots of friends,” I said. “And believe me, th

ey’re all going to want to buy this skin cream. I’ll tell them about it, just as soon as I get out of here.”

But Krystal wasn’t going to go for that either. “You will tell your friends about the products. But not until I tell you to.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell no one. You must keep the secret of the cream. Keep quiet and wait until your friends mention your skin. Until they say, ‘Hello, you look great. Your skin looks great.’ Then, and only then, will you tell them the secret.”

“Is this some kind of Facebook thing?”

“I predict it will happen in about three to four months.” She pulled her stool closer. “Tell me the truth. Is it really about the money?”