Urge to Kill

How great it must be to be a man, rooting around among the trinkets, choosing then putting back down, instead of being one of the trinkets.

She took a sip of her rum and Coke and tried not to keep looking at the Magic Lounge’s door. Now and then a wave of embarrassment and anger at herself would wash over her.

What am I doing here? Other than waiting to be stood up?

But she knew what she was doing. Trying to relieve the loneliness of working at Office Tech, then going home, sometimes stopping for drinks with one of the other women at the store, watching reality TV (Survivor. Boy, she could identify with that one), going to bed, getting up, and then climbing back on the treadmill. Day after numbing day.

Then all of a sudden there he was, tall enough and certainly dark and handsome, chatting her up among the printers and fax machines in aisle seven.

Lucky aisle seven.

He’d accidentally brushed his arm against her right breast when reaching to turn on a printer—she was sure it was accidental—and it felt as if wires ran from her nipple to the core of her sexual need and another wire ran directly to her heart. Conduits of erotic electricity.

To look at his face you wouldn’t think they’d made any contact at all, while her heart wouldn’t slow down. Terri couldn’t remember when a man had done that to her. If ever. Anyway, it was rare, and something you didn’t just toss away in your life. She’d realized that the moment it had happened.

“This printer,” she’d told him, “will print papers on any kind of photo.”

He’d merely smiled at her awkwardness. “If I were dyslexic,” he’d said, “I wouldn’t have noticed that.”

That was how they’d begun a long and increasingly personal conversation. He’d been so smooth, so obviously deeply interested in her, that she’d been the one to suggest they meet later here at the Magic Lounge for drinks and more talk. And he’d seemed pleased to accept her invitation.

Terri wasn’t naïve. She knew that was a bullshitter’s stock in trade, seeming to be just what people wanted or needed at the time. But if he was pretending, he was so, so good at it. Close enough to be the real thing, when emotion was there to fill in the blanks. What was fake and genuine was difficult enough to discern in this life, even if you looked closely. A person could see glass and throw away a diamond.

She wished he were here now to pretend, if that’s what he was doing, instead of being sixteen minutes late. She’d pretend right along with him.

Other men in the lounge were getting interested in her, making her uneasy. All of them looked like losers, compared to Richard Crane.

Then the door opened, and there he was. Relief flooded through her and somehow morphed into a wash of desire. He was as handsome as he’d been in the store, wearing light tan slacks, a blue sport coat with brass buttons, a pale blue shirt open at the collar. Several women in the lounge looked at him and couldn’t look away. Terri felt a tingle of excitement and possessiveness as he smiled and walked toward her.

“Been here long?” he asked, sliding onto the bar stool beside hers.

“Not very. Anyway, I had stuff to think about.”

“Such as?” His gentle, hooded eyes held hers. He was truly interested in her thoughts. In everything about her.

“About how my life is going,” she said. “One week after another in the store, stocking electronics, telling people about electronics, now and then selling electronics. It’s…”

“Soul stifling,” he said.

“Exactly.” He does understand.

“Ever thought about quitting and trying something else?”

She had to laugh. “I don’t have the nerve.”

The bartender came over, and they ordered drinks. He a scotch rocks, she another rum and Coke.

“So rum’s your drink. You could be a lady pirate,” he said seriously.

She had to giggle. “Where do I apply?”

“Right here. I can see you in a pirate outfit. You’d look sexy. Boots, three-corner hat, sword…”

“Eye patch?”

He seemed to think about it. “Sure.”

Their drinks arrived. She took a cautious sip of hers, remembering it was her second. If they stayed for a while here, he’d be a drink behind her. Dangerous.

“Boots and a sword,” she said. “Are you a little kinky, Richard Crane?”

“Only if you want me to be.” He tasted his scotch. “What turns me on is you. Just you.”

They drank silently for a while, studying each other.

He said softly, “Take a chance, Terri Gaddis.”

She felt her heart race.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said.

“Is that taking a chance?”

“Depends on where we eat.”

She smiled. “That eye patch thing is growing on me. Trouble is, I don’t have one.”

“We could make believe,” he said. “Or you could keep one eye closed. That’d be enough for me.”

Take a chance, Terri Gaddis.

“Let’s finish our drinks,” she said, “then go to my ship, and I’ll make dinner in the galley.”