The property was overgrown with ivy, bushes, bamboo, anything and everything that could grow and stake its unrightful claim. They had only walked a few yards alongside the house, but he could no longer see the street, “or the sun,” he thought. The back porch was in desperate need of new floorboards and a few coats of paint. He watched as she opened the back door. Watched how she never looked back at him, almost daring him. He became aware of his breathing. It felt heavy, forced. “Close the door behind you and lock it please.” She spoke so casually, with such familiarity, it frightened him and soothed him at the same time.
The outside belied the Victorian gem within. Flawless parquet flooring, intricate wainscoting, sparkling chandeliers graced this home. It smelled of many generations passed. There was legacy here. All around him. He followed her into the kitchen. In the center of the kitchen table was a small arrangement of fresh, wild lilies. She opened the fridge and pulled out two glass Coca Cola bottles. “Thirsty?” she asked as the bottles clinked together. He hesitated. “Don’t worry, I only poison guests on trash day.” she said as she handed him the chilled bottle. She leaned back against the counter and smiled, “Trash day was yesterday,” she said with a sinful giggle that dropped his defenses and left him helpless to her charms.
She threw him her bottle opener after opening her drink. He watched as her full, cherry lips pursed the bottle and the cola slowly and seductively flowed into her mouth. He watched and listened to her take each swallow. “You like to watch?” she asked coquettishly. He popped his cap off at that precise moment and it bounced across the floor landing under the stove. “Don’t worry about that,” she said to him, “drink up, we’ve much to discuss.” He drank, his eyes never leaving her as if the memory of her would fade if he stopped looking. He wanted to consume her but not in that way. She made him want to be something other than what he was, something more. Thoughts of Bonnie and Clyde ran through his head. “And that turned out so well,” he stupidly thought to himself.
He said with a little too much base in his voice, “I don’t even know your name girl.” “Did you know any of their names?” she shot back. “What?” he said. “You strike me as a Peggy Lee type of man.” she stated in a monotone. He tried to ask, “What?” again but the words wouldn’t come. The bottle dropped from his hand. He felt weak, nauseated. He looked over to her as he collapsed, saw her ankles move toward him, saw her kneel down in front of him, “Peggy Lee it is.” were the last words he heard her utter before darkness consumed him.
to be continued…
photo credit: http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/092/0/b/coca_cola_bottle_cap_by_crepusclo-d606zh2.png