The Deal

"So tell me, Miss, ah, Ms. Klein, what gave you the impression that my firm would have any interest in purchasing your eternal soul?"

"Well, I was told that that was what you do?"

"Amongst other things, yes, but the soul market has become quite saturated of late.  Definitely not a seller's market I'm afraid, what with the new banking laws and all.  What is it you want Ms. Klein?" he asked as he stroked his goatee absentmindedly.

"I want eternal beauty," the attractive young woman said, holding his gaze.

"I, ah, I'm afraid head office no longer allows that sort of thing, Ms Klein," the handsome man replied.  "Long term liabilities are frowned upon, and anything without a firm closing date in the agreement can not be made binding under any circumstances.  The best we can do is grant you beauty to a specific date."

"What?"

"Well, we could grant you beauty until, say, December 31st, 2020, for example."

"But that's not even worth it!" she exclaimed, distress in her voice.  She had spent all of her savings for the plane ticket to get to London, she needed this to work.

"Well, did you have another date in mind?"

Thinking quickly, she blurted out, "I want to be the most beautiful woman in the world until the day I die!"

"In the world?" the man asked, frowning.  "How about "one among the one hundred most beautiful in the world?"

"No!  The most beautiful of all or it's no deal!"  She couldn't risk that Brittany might upstage her again.

The man frowned, typing on his computer terminal.  For what seemed an eternity, the only sound was the clacking of his fingers on the keyboard.  She let her eyes wander over the rich wood paneling and expensive furnishings, imagining what it had cost to decorate and trying to guess the price of various pieces of furniture.  The desk alone must have been in the tens of thousands.

"By who's standard?" he asked as he suddenly stopped typing and looked up, startling her.

She looked back at him with big, round eyes.  "Standard?"

"How will you determine that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?" he asked impatiently.  "It needs to be clearly stipulated or Legal won't approve it."

"I don't understand..."

"Who will get the final word on you being the most beautiful?  The Queen, a committee, a magazine editor? Wikipedia?"

"I... uh, Cosmo I guess."

"Cosmo...?"

"The magazine!"

"Yes, yes, I know that, but what edition? UK, US, Japan?"

"Oh, uh, US I guess."

"Very well."

He typed some more and with a flourish hit a key, leaning back in his swivel chair and smiling at her.

"Now what?"

"Now we just need to wait for approval.  Would you like a cup of tea while we wait?"

"Uh, do you have any diet Dr.Pepper?"

He frowned. "I'm afraid not.  Would a glass of water suffice?"

She nodded silently, wringing her hands.

He poured her a glass of water from a crystal decanter.  She drank the cool water thirstily, draining the glass.  She held the heavy, intricately carved crystal glass in both hands as she wondered if he would notice if she slipped it into her handbag.  He was refilling it for her when the laser printer in the corner of the room began to spit out paper.

He watched the printer for a few moments until it paused, snatching the stack of legal paper just before it began spitting out more.  He also grabbed the first sheet and excused himself, exiting the room through a side door with the quarter inch of paper held in both hands.  The printer finished its work and went silent again.  She fiddled with the small plaque that said "Winterbottom," straightening it and then placing it at various angles.

A few moments later, Winterbottom hurried back in, smiling, followed by a small man with a bow tie.  He looked like an accountant, and carried a large Digital SLR camera.  Winterbottom picked up the remaining printout from the laser printer and put a single page on top, holding out both stacks to her.
  
"Here we are, all approved, all that is required to proceed is your signature.  This is Mister Bigglesworth."

"Wait, what?"

"Mister Bigglesworth, he will witness your signing."

"Witness?"

"Your contract, it's been approved.  All we need is your dated signature on the last page, and Mister Bigglesworth to witness it."

"Can I read it first?" she asked, frowning and fanning what might have been fifty pages of legal paper printed in tiny, compressed text.

"Of course, of course, please, we want all of our customers to be satisfied."

She began to read, and after skimming through the first few pages, she looked up.

"So if I sign this, I'll be the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"As per Cosmopolitan Magazine, US edition, yes."

"Until I die?"

"Yes, it's all in there."

"Okay."

"Wonderful!"

She signed the paper with the man's oversized fountain pen and dated it, the ink a dark burgundy in colour.  She then watched intently as Mr. Bigglesworth signed his name on the witness line, folded it tri-form, and handed them each a copy.  He then pointed the camera at her and took several pictures.  He nodded, and exited through the side door.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you Ms. Klein," the man said, bowing slightly.

"Wait, when do I..."

"Oh, it's already done.  Cosmo will print the pictures mister Biggleworth took in their next edition, and will declare you to be the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Really? But, I don't feel beautiful..."

"Come," he said, taking her hand gently, as he led her to the side table with the water decanter.  He removed the glasses and decanter and held up the highly polished tray.  

Astonished, she stared at the image in the tray, speechless before her own beauty.  She couldn't make a sound, breathless, until he put down the tray and smiled at her.  She stared at him, and he had to remind her to breathe.  

She found her makeup mirror in her handbag and studied her new face as she waited for the elevator.  In a trance, she crossed the lobby and stepped out onto the sidewalk, almost falling on the stoop.  She glanced to her left before stepping out onto the busy street.



Upstairs in his office, Winterbottom smiled as he heard the sound of the double-decker bus blowing its horn and the squeal of brakes.  He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk.  It had been a profitable day.