After Midnight

“You’re about as cold-blooded as they come.” He smirked. “Maybe that’s why I find myself so strangely attracted to you. Let’s go inside, now. Take me to the kitchen.”

I turned around and saw the trail of blood leading to the den’s open door. “Okay if we go in the other way?” I asked.

“Suit yourself.”

“May I please get dressed?” I asked.

“You may not. I like you just the way you are. Let’s go.”

I led the way alongside the house, stepped behind the table and chairs, and slid open the living-room door. Steve followed me into the house.

Glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “What do you think you saw me do last night?”

“I saw what you did do. Involving the sword and a certain unlucky young man who came to your door.”

“I thought he was you.”

“Isn’t that a fine how-do-you-do?”

“Well, you had me scared.”

Entering the kitchen, I expected to find Elroy’s headless body on the floor. But it wasn’t there. Nor did I see any blood or signs of a struggle.

“Go ahead and marinate the steaks,” Steve said. “I know you prefer them that way.”

“You were spying on us?” I asked, heading for the cupboard where Serena kept her sauces.

“You might say that.”

“Where were you?”

“Trade secret.”

I took down the bottle of teryaki, found a platter, and stepped over to the counter where I’d left the steaks. I tried to pry them apart, but they were still frozen together. “Can you get them apart?” I asked Steve.

“They’ll come apart in the natural course of time.”

“Thanks.”

“That comes perilously close to a wisecrack.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”

“Better watch yourself.”

“I will,” I said. I placed the steaks on the platter, drenched them with teryaki sauce, picked them up rubbed them with both hands to make sure they were wet everywhere, then put them back into the platter.

My hands were dripping with the spicy brown liquid. As I turned toward the sink, Steve said, “Wait. I’ll lick them clean.”

So I held out both my hands, fingers open and spread. Steve licked and sucked them.

It seemed like a weird thing to do—like licking my tears off. But I’ve got to admit, it felt pretty good. Especially when he sucked each one of my fingers all the way into his mouth. In other circumstances, it might’ve been a real turnon. For instance, if someone like Murphy had been doing it to me. With Steve, I was too scared to enjoy it very much.

I had a big worry, for one thing, that he might bite one of my fingers off.

For another, I figured he had terrible plans for me, for later on.

As the last finger slurped out of his mouth, he smiled and said, “Yummy. You’re delicious.”

I almost said, “Eat me,” but stopped myself in the nick of time.

Instead, I said, “Thanks.”

“Now you may go ahead and wash your hands, if you like.”

I turned to the sink. I used soap and hot water on them. While I was drying my hands on a dish towel, Steve buzzed the blender a few times.

Then he said, “Get me out a clean glass. I wouldn’t want to use Elroy’s. Might catch something.”

“Like what?”

“I wouldn’t know. But he must’ve been gravely ill. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Hilarious, I thought.

Keeping my mouth shut, I took down a clean glass for Steve. He lifted the pitcher of frothy margarita off the blender.

“Do you want salt on your rim?” I asked.

“I take my rims without.”

“Healthier that way.”

He chuckled. “Do you really suppose I’m worried about my health? With my lifestyle, I’m looking forward to a lethal injection—or perhaps a bullet—but certainly not hardening of the arteries.”

“And what lifestyle is that?”

“I like to think of myself as a ‘thrill-killer.’”

“Charming,” I muttered.

“Now, march,” he said.

“Where?”

“Out to the table. It’s time for the Happy Hour.”

I stepped past him and left the kitchen. On our way across the living room, I asked, “Did you get a thrill out of killing Elroy?”

“Not particularly, though it was amusing. I killed him because he was an obstacle in the way of you.”

“Where is he?”

“Here and there.”

“I know where his head is,” I pointed out. “Where’s the rest of him?”

“Already worrying about clean-up?”

“I just want to know.”

“He’s in the guest bathroom.”

“You killed him in the bathroom?”

“Standing at the toilet, as a matter of fact. Took him completely by surprise. I’m afraid his aim got thrown off when he lost his head. Pissed all over the place. But he finally fell into the tub. Would you like to see?”

“No thanks.”

47

THE HAPPY HOUR

“Remarkable woman,” Steve said as he filled my glass from the pitcher.

“Who is?”

“You, of course.”

“What do you know about it?” I said.

He poured margarita into his own glass, then placed the pitcher on the table. “More than you might think,” he said. Before sitting down, he moved his chair around to the other side of the table.

He lowered the saber and leaned it against the side of his left thigh. Probably so he could go for it quickly with his right hand by reaching across his lap. The sword version of a cross-draw.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, and took a sip. “Very good margarita.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a fine figure of a woman.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And extremely dangerous.”

I smiled sweetly.

“I’ve never run into a woman like you before. And, I must say, neither had Milo.”

“Milo?”