Quickie

“Excuse me while I slip into something comfortable.”

Minutes later, she stood at the top of the stairs, one hip pasted against a door jamb. Dressed only in a sheer gossamer gown, she smiled, inviting him upstairs into her bedroom.

He smiled, loosened his tie, and rose from the couch. It had been much easier than he’d imagined when he dressed for the club. As he paid the cover charge and walked through the bat wings of the front door, he’d seen her reflection in the backing mirror that ran the length of the bar. She sat on a red stool, holding a fancy drink with a long glass stem between two curled fingers and her opposable thumb, with her elbows upon the bar. With her free hand, she wriggled her fingers in his direction.

He stood there for a second, looking around the room. Several couples were on the dance floor, wrapped together in place during the slow sentimental number that a spotlit three-piece band was knocking out. A couple of guys with their heads down in their drinks sat on stools at the far end of the bar. Otherwise, the place was dead. He guessed it was still too early.

As he looked around, he kept her in his side vision, making sure she actually had waved at him and not just reacted to the door’s opening as he came in. When he looked directly her way, her long lashes lifted as she gazed directly at him, red pouting lips turning up on one corner in a slight welcoming smile.

He walked toward the bar. I need a drink, he decided, and I need it now. He pushed between stools a couple of spaces from her own and looked up and down the bar.

“He’s in back somewhere,” she said.

“Huh?” he asked, surprised she’d spoken so quickly.

“The barkeep,” she said. “What’s your name? Mine’s Cecily.”

“Cecily,” He liked that. “I’m Steven.”

“Hi, Steve. What do you do?”

Steven marveled at her directness. He’d never met a girl like this. He let his eyes lower and she was still smiling. Make that, a woman. “I’m in advertising.”

The bartender, a barrel-chested bald man with sweaty arms, walked in from the back then stopped in front of Steven. “What’re you having, champ?”

Steven looked at the drink in Cecily’s hand. “A gin and tonic. And what she’s drinking, too.”

The man didn’t even react to the sudden meeting, turned and made the drinks.

Steven went to the stool beside hers and nodded at it questioningly.

“Sit,” she commanded in a soft voice.

The bartender set their drinks before them. “Excuse me, folks. Need to finish back there quickly, if you don’t need anything else.”

“We’re fine,” Steven said. He sipped his drink. Smooth. He took a longer pull and turned to her.

“I was about to leave,” she said, “just as you came in.”

He was crestfallen but kept his face straight. “That’s too bad,” he said.

“Want to come with me?” she asked and grinned.

The icy drink slipped between his fingers and he nearly dropped it. The glass touched the dark wood of the bar just as it would have gotten away entirely. He looked at her in amazement, then tried to keep his cool. This can’t be real, he thought. I’m dreaming.

He wiped his fingers on his slacks. They felt cold. She was still staring at him. Waiting for his answer? Obviously.

“I would love to accompany you,” he finally said. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” she said. “Mine, of course.”

And they had left. On the way in a cab, she slipped her fingers into his, resting both of their hands upon his leg, and moved her body next to his so that their hips touched.

They entered her front door and she kissed him, deeply. Then she’d gone up to get comfortable.

He’d barely sat down on the couch when she came out at the top of the stairs and beckoned him up.

As he walked up the stairway, it seemed to float up then down in a sinuous motion, as if he were floating. He knew he wasn’t dreaming, and he hadn’t had time to drink that much alcohol. Had she dropped some sort of date rape drug on him?

As he neared the top of the stairs, she watched him in amusement and held her arms out toward him. When he stepped up to her, she put her arms around him and pulled him in to her. They turned to enter her bedroom.

As he neared the entrance, he realized the stink coming from inside. The room smelled like an abattoir. Something had gone wrong here.

Cecily stepped over to some controls, and the room seemed to lift up and rise away from the stairwell.

As the ship ascended, Cecily removed the mask.