TO ENTERTAIN A STRANGER: By Leila Asher
Sunday, September 5th, 2010She has moved through this dream before.
She stands in the front room of the house. It’s so hot that the air doesn’t move. Now and again a bit of breeze comes in through the window, but it feels like a breath of heat from the oven.
One day, I’m going to move into a house near the ocean, she thinks to herself. One day, I’ll buy a place with air conditioning that works.
The hands of the clock move as the hour strikes three .
Because of the heat, the front door stands open. At first she does not realize someone is standing there. She hears the knock, and sees the man through the dark mesh of the door.
He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He runs his hands through his hair, shifting from one foot to another.
She opens the door just a crack, blinking at him in the harsh sunlight.
“Yes?” she blurts.
The man smiles awkwardly, as if he needs to apologize for something he hasn’t said yet.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, ma’am.” She catches a trace of southern accent. His blonde hair is short and spiky. “Please, I was wondering if I could use your phone. My car broke down a ways down the road and I need a tow truck. This darned cell phone,” he takes it from his pocket. “I swear it’s not good for anything.”
She pauses. She is alone, and the next house isn’t for miles.
If his car is really down the road, she surmises, he will have to walk miles before getting help. In this heat, it could easily be the death of him.
“Please…?” he asks, sensing her hesitation. He widens his blue eyes. She finds herself staring at his impossibly long lashes.
“Come in,” she says, stepping aside.
He comes in, and she walks back to the kitchen with him. She shows him where the phone is.
And this is the part of the dream that becomes hazy.
Somehow, the kitchen seems dark. The blinds are shut. He says nothing.
He is very close to her, and she can hear his breathing.
Or is she the one breathing fast…?
His hands are cold when he touches her. He touches her arm, and this is a delicious thrill, like having her hot skin stroked with ice.
Now she moves towards him, and his arms come around her. “Darling,” he whispers. He laughs, softly, intimately. “You remember, don’t you?” he says. “We are old friends. Give me, darling,” he whispers. “Just a little drink. I won’t hurt you. I need you to quench me.”
He touches her neck, sweeping back her hair with one movement of his hand.
His cold lips are sweet. She closes her eyes and thinks of cool things, like pools of water and the taste of ice cream on her tongue.
***
When she comes awake, she feels as if she has been floating.
She is lying on her couch.
She is hot, and dizzy.
She sits up slowly, and when the room stops spinning she makes her way into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Standing at the sink , she runs cool water into a cloth and places it on the side of her neck.
She feels a strange, somehow pleasant tingle. Closing her eyes, a chill flows through her body. She notices the blood on the towel, but does not pay attention to it. Nothing matters much anymore. Just the feeling that she has missed something. She has stopped just short of crossing a threshold that she must move past…
She returns to the couch, and lays down. It would be nice to float ino that dream again.
***
Outside, the man sits in his car. He wipes his mouth with a handkerchief. Looking into the rearview mirror, he smiles.
One more visit, and he would finish the proccess. Drink the rest of her blood, and end her life.
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©2010 Leila Asher
