My dearest Paula,
Your delightful company is requested on Saturday, 10th June at 9:00 p.m.
Location: to be revealed.
Dress: to be arranged in the afternoon.
The Occasion: your Transformation.
A car will collect you promptly at 8:40 p.m.
It bore no signature; merely a series of looping calligraphic flourishes underscoring the brief communication. Paula read and re-read the card, utterly mystified as to who could have sent it. Today was the 10th. And whatever could they mean by ‘transformation’? Glancing up, she met her own eye in the mirror over the desk and smiled.
“Yes,” she said to her reflection. “Why not?”
The insistent shriek of the kettle brought her back down to earth. Still clutching the precious invitation to her heart, she padded back to the kitchen. As she waited for the tea to brew, she let Horton the cat in from the back garden. He coiled his lithe ginger body against her bare legs and mewled for breakfast.
“ My ‘Transformation’, ” mused Paula out loud. She rather liked the sound of that. Giving a delighted laugh, she whirled about dancing on the tiles, causing Horton-- a skittish feline-- to dart upstairs and hide under Jacquie’s bed.
***
Paula did nothing all day. She simply waited to see what would unfold next. By lunchtime, nothing more was forthcoming and her spirits faltered. It must have been some sort of sick joke of Michael’s to get her hopes up. She stomped upstairs to lay on her bed with a novel, inwardly admonishing herself for believing that anything special could ever happen. At 2 p.m., the front buzzer made Paula jump up and rush downstairs. By the time she flung the door open there was no one there, but a huge bouquet of flowers wrapped in paper and tied with a wide red ribbon lay on the front stoop. A small embossed envelope held a note penned in the same script as the early morning missive:
So glad that you’ll be able to join me this evening.
It really was happening… whatever ‘it’ was. It was as though her thoughts were being read; her willingness to go along being taken as granted. Paula arranged the oversized bouquet of roses in Jacquie’s best vase and set it on the sitting room coffee table. The blooms were of an unusual depth of red and had an intoxicating scent. The whole of the two-level maisonette was soon filled with their perfume.
At 4 p.m., the front bell rang. Paula opened the door to an older well-dressed woman holding a garment bag. The woman’s smile radiated with charm.
“Is now a good time for your fitting, lovey?” she asked in a smooth, warm voice. Her manner and tone inspired instant trust, and soon they were upstairs in Paula’s bedroom, bustling her into a lovely frock. It was perfectly tailored to fit her body, and showed off her curves to advantage without being vulgar by exposing too much skin.
“I do hope that black is all right with you,” said the kind woman. “I find it best suits these occasions to go with an elegant simplicity.”
Paula nodded knowingly, not wishing to reveal her ignorance regarding the exact nature of the ‘occasion’. The woman chatted amiably as she smoothed and fussed over the dress.
“This will be such a lovely treat for you. I know you don’t get much of a chance to dress up in your line of work. Hospitals are such dreary places.”
“No… how do- ”
“You must miss those days when you were dating that nice cellist-- Ron, wasn’t it? At least he used to get you out and show you off. Such a pity things didn’t work between you two, but surely you must realize that it wasn’t your fault if the lad ultimately preferred the attractions of his own sex.”
“Excuse me, but how did you know about-”
“And you were wasted on that last scoundrel, Michael. How shabby of him to run off with that horrid blonde tart! His loss, my dear. Some men have no idea what’s good for them. I dare say you’ll not be treated like that ever again-- not if I know my employer.”
“Who exactly is- ”
“Here, my dear. Slip these shoes on and see if the hemline hangs properly in high heels.”
The shoes, like the frock, were somehow perfect. The gentlewoman smiled with pride and stroked Paula’s cheek with her cold fingertips.
“Best take off the dress and hang it up. You don’t want to end up wearing wrinkles-- tonight of all nights.”
Paula obeyed and handed the dress to the woman. As she laid it out gently on the bed and smoothed the silky material out flat, Paula turned away to dig through her wardrobe.
“I’m sure I must have a padded hanger in here somewhere... that will help hold the shoulders’ shape, don’t you think?”
There was no reply. She peered around the wardrobe door to find the woman had gone.
Paula heard a motor start and a car pulling away. She ran to the window, but couldn’t see anything. By the time she’d thrown on a robe and hurried down to the front door, the street was empty. She’d been unable to follow quickly enough to see either the car or the direction it had taken. The stranger had taken her exit while Paula was in a state of semi-undress, ensuring a clean escape.
Heading back upstairs, Paula carefully picked up her dress from the bed, revealing a black satin bag on the bed. Inside was a bar of soap wrapped and sealed in paper, a glass bottle of bath oil and a tiny vial of coordinating perfume. All bore the label Transformation. Paula shivered.
***
Paula was too excited to eat supper and opted instead for a long soak in a hot, fragrant bath. As she ran the water, Horton perched on the counter indifferently grooming until the heady scent of the exotic perfume filled the small bathroom. Hopping to the floor, he stood yowling at Paula to be let out, his tail madly twitching.
“All right, get out. I don’t want you in here if you’re going to cause such a fuss.”
Dropping her robe, Paula sank into the silky embrace of the bath. She inhaled the rich notes of the perfumed water. Her senses were deeply stirred, but she could not pinpoint any of the elements that made up the delicious whole of the scent. As Paula soaped each limb, her body grew more languid and her skin tingled with an erotic anticipation. She leaned back and closed her eyes with a sigh. Please God-- let tonight be wonderful.
A cynical voice nagged at the back of her skull: Surely this has got to be some elaborate joke. Do you really think that your life is going to ‘transform’? Pathetic fool... Paula twisted in her bath trying to block out her inner pessimism. She ached with a need to believe. Breathing in the intoxicating perfume of Transformation, her mind calmed and her body yearned to be touched. She sensuously trailed the bath sponge over her thighs, enflaming her nameless ardor and stifling her doubts.
***
At precisely 8:40 p.m., a black sedan with tinted windows drew up and its smartly uniformed driver called at the door. He made a small bow to Paula and handed her formally down the walk into the back seat. On the rich leather seat was a corsage of the same lush red roses that made up her bouquet. Beside the flowers sat a black velvet jewelry case. Eagerly, she picked up the box.
“Forgive me, miss,” said the chauffeur. “But I think he’d prefer if you’d wait to open it in his presence.”
“Of course. I forgot myself.” Battling her curiosity, Paula slipped the case unopened into her evening bag as the driver shut her door.
Flushed and nervous, she peered out to see if any of the neighbors were watching as their dear, mousy Paula was being chauffeured away in an expensive European car. The windows were also tinted from within.
***
At 9:00 p.m., Paula was too disoriented by the silent blind journey to know what part of London she was in when she arrived at the shining platinum double-doors of what seemed to be an exclusive nightclub. The place exuded an air of wealth and prestige that she found both intimidating and exciting in equal measures. A tuxedoed host escorted her into a cavernous dining room, and seated her at a round table covered with fine white linen. The room was very dimly lit-- almost black-- and Paula could just make out shadowy figures moving between
the tables. There was a continual flow of human traffic: waiters and busboys with trays, and patrons being shown to and from their seats. Each table was cleverly and discreetly spot lit from an unseen source, and glowed like full moons in the darkness.
Paula felt self-conscious. Her central table was large-- too large to be properly intimate-- and she’d noticed that all of the other tables had gatherings of four or more. She was the only solitary figure in the room. Her tightly clasped hands felt damp against the tablecloth.
A handsome young man with slicked-back hair wearing a long apron whisked up to her table and poured her a glass of golden wine. Scooping up her invitation-- she had thought it wise to bring it along-- he gave it a quick glance and broke into a wide grin. He leaned in toward Paula.
“I’ll bet you can’t wait to finally see him,” he enthused. “May I say you look wonderful? Absolutely stunning. He’ll be ever so pleased.”
Paula mutely gazed up at him, a mix of blurred emotions tugging at the corners of her carefully painted mouth. The waiter’s brow furrowed with concern at her apparent discomfort. His voice dropped down a level in volume and became more soothing.
“Don’t fret, love. I know it must seem a bit on the odd side, but it’s just his way. He’ll be along any moment to explain. Relax. Enjoy your wine.”
He moved off, gently giving her bare shoulder a reassuring touch as he vanished between the circles of light. His fingers were cold. Shivering, Paula felt a renewed surge of panic at being stranded alone in such a place. Maybe it was some weird hoax after all. It would be foolish to stay, but she couldn’t find the backbone to rise and walk out. To bolster her courage, she took a sip of wine. It was beautiful stuff-- heady and flowery with a glowing aftertaste. Paula had never before tasted anything so perfect, and was a little surprised to find that she’d somehow drained the glass.
“Paula.”
A man’s voice-- mahogany rich, with a cultured and slightly clipped edge-- spoke her name from the darkness to her left. It must be him. She quivered at the sound. He stepped into her pool of light and sat at her table, pulling his chair in close beside her own.
“May I?” he asked, as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Paula’s entire body flooded with heat. She gazed at him, instantly captivated. He was older by a good ten years, but still youthful with a smooth, finely formed face and thick dark hair. His moustache was trim and neat and he wore a goatee, slightly elongated along the strong lines of his jaw, framing his lovely full mouth. His eyes were dark and deep, set off to perfection by long lashes that gave an almost feminine beauty to his face.
The young sommelier reappeared to fill their crystal glasses with more of the miraculous wine. As he grinned approvingly at the couple, her suitor smiled back.
“I’ll wager the poor girl thought I was never coming. But I always keep my promises, don’t I Thomas?”
“Oh yes, sir. If you say you’ll be someplace, then your word is as good as gold.”
Thomas winked at Paula as the two men chuckled together like old friends. She felt compelled to laugh along with them-- though haltingly.
“A toast,” offered her admirer, as Thomas discreetly withdrew. “To you, my dear one-- for your terribly kind patience.”
Paula felt a sensation of confused relief wash through her like a drug. He seemed sincere in his attentions to her-- and she was electrified by her instant attraction to him-- but she was still as much in the dark as she had been that morning.
“I see you are unsure, my pet. How to reassure you? I know... ”
Lifting her chin with his cool forefinger, he leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. Paula inwardly reeled with intense desire. Confusion be damned! Nothing else in the world mattered as much as her passion for this man.
“Forgive me,” he said, drawing back. “That was too forward.”
“No!” she blurted, lunging after him to catch his arm. After a moment of stunned silence, she smothered a giggle with her hand, amused by her own audacity. His dark eyes twinkled as he laughed gently with her. Paula pulled him back to taste his mouth again.
Thomas returned, smiling apologetically for his untimely intrusion. He spoke in a low voice to her mysterious new admirer who heaved a sigh and nodded in reply, waving the sommelier away. He turned back to Paula and caressed her cheek with his gentle, cold fingertips.
“I’m sorry to have to leave you before I’ve explained myself, but I’ve been called to another table. Tonight is a special night for them, and I’ve been asked to say a few words. I’ll be back in no time.” He brushed a feathery kiss on her neck, deeply inhaling her perfume as he stood. “You smell wonderful,” he breathed into her ear. “I could eat you. Perhaps I shall before the evening is out...”
He receded into the black. Her mind and body buzzing with wine and enflamed lust, Paula strained to watch him emerge from the darkness at a nearby table. Thomas was there, along with several tall waiters clustered about in a semi-circle-- all almost identical with their lean young bodies and long white aprons. They obscured her view of the people who were seated. She could make out muted laughter, a short speech given in his melodious baritone voice, a toast proposed. All individual words were swallowed up by the constant background hum of chatter and soft jazz music.
Suddenly, her lover’s deep voice was raised in a question. There was an immediate lull in the music and a profound silence as all those present waited for an answer. After a moment’s pause, a small murmur came in reply. As if by a signal, the waiters quickly and neatly dispersed back into the inky dusk of the room. A harsh, sulfurous scent of freshly snuffed candles hung in the air.
All else in the room seemed just as it had before: the unseen jazz band resumed their song in mid-verse and the background murmur of dining conversation continued where it had left off. Paula felt a chill like fingers of ice race down the back of her neck. The other table and its occupants had vanished, leaving a gaping black hole like a missing tooth where the table had been just a moment before. She was struck by a sudden instinct to flee. Furtively casting her eyes around in search of a way out, she met the gaze of her lover.
He stood motionless at the edge of a pool of light, his face lit from beneath with sinister shadows playing across his angular face. The expression he wore seemed brutal and cold, silently warning her to stay put... or else.
As she blinked at the apparition, he stepped fully into the light at her table. All traces of the fleeting malevolence were gone. He once again looked irresistibly charming, and in one fluidly elegant move he seated himself and pressed up against her. At the touch of his body to hers, her mind gave over to his overpowering influence. Paula was drunk with need. She wanted only to fuse herself with him and leave all her former dull loneliness behind forever.
“Forgive me,” he purred, trailing kisses down her face. He took her hands in his own. “Now: I’m sure you know there’s the small matter of a jewelry case in your evening bag. I think it’s time you opened it up-- don’t you agree?”
Paula nodded, eyes nearly closed, breathing in the absolute beauty of him through her narrowed field of vision, surrendering to this half-formed dream that she so desperately wanted to believe in. She slid her hand into her bag and grasped the nearly forgotten velvet box. He tightened his fingers over hers.
“But first, my Lady, I must ask one question... ”
As before, the music and conversation around them ceased. The icy sensation of his hand on hers spread and froze Paula in her chair. She was only dimly aware of the cluster of waiters closing in around their table.
***
On Monday morning, Horton heard the sound of footsteps approaching up the walk and stalked on stiff legs to the front entrance hall. The cat had been driven past all patience by his owners’ negligence. Though by nature a solitary beast, he derived much secret comfort from the presence of Paula and Jacquie. He’d been stuck inside the flat alone for two days without fresh food, haplessly watching birds in the back garden through th
e window. This was a double indignity he did not intend to endure without vigorous complaint. He sat in a rigid pose of contempt and fixed an expectant, stony gaze on the doorway.
The footsteps ascended the front stoop at the door. Horton uttered a loud and peevish meow. His petulant greeting was answered by a fistful of junk mail and bills shoved through the mail slot that showered over his head. Humiliated and shaken, Horton bolted into the sitting room and leapt onto the coffee table with his tail twitching in anger. He’d have to make his point to his owners in a more obvious and destructive way. The cat brushed hard against the vase of roses and deliberately toppled it over, dumping the contents across the oak surface. He shrieked as his paw dipped into the spilled water-- reeling back at the powerful scent of scorched wood and singed fur as his tender footpads were burned to the quick.
Open Your Eyes and See
by
Naomi Bonthrone
Open your eyes and see.
A desert forms about you as you struggle to your feet, a path stretching out from where you now stand. Beside you a shape is erected, the wooden sign pointing down the path as it vanishes over the horizon. Letters are carved into the timber, forming a single allusion to where the path may end; truth. Now as you examine the barren landscape, you find your mind falling blank. All memories beyond this very moment are lost within the depths of your psyche. Without any explanation for your presence here, questions swarm through your mind and ravage your thoughts in search of answers. Where are you? How did you get here? Why are you here?
With these questions and many more in mind, you turn, resolving to return from whence you came. But instead you stumble out of your sharp spin, jolting back from the chasm torn through the ground you now face. The edge crumbles under your weight, crashing down into the abyss once you leap back onto solid ground. The rocks tumble further and further into the endless gorge, the crash of their collision with the end never echoing back to you. You look across at the fog rolling over the chasm, the other side undistinguishable amongst the earth-bound cloud.
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