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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