Thursday, September 14, 2017

091417




A winning hand


Adele stopped at the receptionist's desk. "I'm applying for the transcription job," she said, shifting her case from right hand to left, left to right.

"Through there," the girl said, pointing to Adele's left. Adele opened the door and went in. The door closed behind her with a soft snick. Something was wrong with the carpet. Thousands of tiny mouths, all wearing her color of lipstick rose up on fleshy pink stalks. She screamed and tried to run, but several of the stalks twined around her left leg and she fell. The mouths opened, hovered above her, and then descended. Within moments she was hidden from view.  Her eyes, ears, and mouth were covered. She could not get up.

Charles stopped at the receptionist's desk. "Any calls?" She shook her head and continued painting her nails. "No one in the mouth room?"

"Not really," she said.

"I'll be in the cellar then." A medieval wine cellar had been reconstructed below the parking garage, God knows why. It was a good place to goof off, because everybody else down there was doing the same thing. And there were some quite nice vintages too.

The receptionist opened the door of the mouth room and slipped inside. The girl was moving a bit under the mouths but no longer making any sound. The receptionist whistled a series of notes and the mouths retracted, disappearing under the carpet.

Adele stared blankly at the woman standing above her, eyes like owls. "Find him," the woman said. Adele rose and left the room without a word.

Charles put down the bottle and stared at the nude woman approaching him from the back of the cellar. The light was not bright in here, but it looked like she had hickies all over her body. That seemed promising. "Want some wine?" She didn't speak, but knelt down beside him and took his head in her hands. The mouths emerged from her body when he closed his eyes..

The elderly man put down his magazine and looked uneasily around the waiting room. He thought he heard screams from some lower floor. The receptionist paid no notice to the sounds, if in fact they were real sounds at all.

The receptionist cleared her throat. "Sir? You can go in now." She pointed at a wooden door to her right. She felt thirsty.

Adele let the empty husk drop. It shattered on the stone floor. She picked up the wine bottle and drank from the mouth. She heard footsteps coming down the stair.


Publ. Drowning Atlantis, 2007

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