One Handsome Devil Redux

Let me tell ya, he’s one handsome devil.

That’s not just a figure of speech. He’s shown me his bona fides. And they were definitely bona, if you know what I mean.

I’d seen him before, entering the apartment just down the hall. Lean, muscular, tan & blonde—quite the tasty treat. He’d smiled at me. I smiled back, though not as coyly as I might have liked.

Tonight, or rather this morning, was different. 2:33 a.m. All decked out in a hot red suit with red shirt & red tie. I was just setting a dress out in the hall for the maid to pick up for dry cleaning as he arrived at the top of the stairs.

I decided to say something this time.

“Well, aren’t you just the handsome devil?” I gave him the once over with my most sultry gaze.

“Ah, does that interest you, m’lady?” He bowed deeply before me, doffing his bowler with a definite devil-may-care attitude. (Yes, the bowler was red.)

With the top of his head squarely in front of me, I could see protuberances just above his ears. I reached out to touch them, parting his fiendishly abundant hair with my fingers. Bone. (What did you think I meant by definitely bona?) Not long & sharp but short & rounded, like above the forehead of Michelangelo’s Moses.

“I keep them blunted so they don’t tear up the hat,” he responded to the question I had not asked. “I could show you my tail if you like.” Without waiting for a response, he allowed it to swish back & forth behind him.

The next ten minutes or so were a blur of pyrotechnics & dark magic, clearly designed to impress me. Finally, he confessed, “Ah, I’m just playin’ with ya. I’m a magician returnin’ from a Halloween gig. But did I fool ya?”

This time I was definitely prepared to play. Rising to my full sensuous height (almost equal to his), I allowed one bare leg to slip through the slit in my suddenly-red satin nightgown.

“Seriously, did you think I would not recognize one of my own? Your bag of parlor tricks were cute & the costume & makeup are fairly impressive for a man of your caliber. But you have no idea what you have conjured here.” At that moment my eyes turned to flaming red, a pair of sharp horns rose from my scalp & a serpent’s tail wriggled out, writhing over my shoulder. The space around us began to warp as I flung open the door & commanded, “Now get in that bedroom & wait for my command!” My words sissssed with venom.

The look on his face was priceless. All the blood seemed to drain from him as he slunk past me, his head down, trembling with sudden & enduring terror.

“And don’t touch anything! Just take off all your clothes & wait!”

Am I the Devil? Nah, I’m just a better magician.

God, I love blondes!

[Thus ends my entry to Vocal Media’s 500 Word Shockwave. Since Vocal was unimpressed (no placement, no Top Story, barely an acknowledgement it had been published), & since I really personally liked it, I have decided to add a denouement for this challenge.]

Six months later:

I pick up the phone on the third ring. I know who it is, but I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting for his call. (He’s rung me up at least once every day since that night. Sometimes I’ve let it go to machine & simply listened in. It’s been delicious!)

I listen intently, this time the color draining from my face.

“Oh Jeff…,” I gasp into the receiver, “I love you, too…, but…, you do know I’m not really Satan, don’t you?”

“That’s okay,” I hear from the other end. “I’m not actually blonde.”

God, we’re going to make a great team! Marriage? Perhaps. On stage…, we’re going to be dynamite!

He’ll be my assistant, of course.

I wonder if I can get him to wear a speedo.