by Robert Blain
‘Oh Andy, don’t be so harsh on yourself.’
He felt her hand on his shoulder. It seemed like ages since anyone had touched him.
‘Maybe I’m the monster,’ he said.
He felt her rubbing his shoulder. ‘You’re not,’ she said softly.
For one incredible moment, Schlakier felt that he was going to lose it. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together.
‘So I guess that’s why I acted like such a fuckwit on our last date,’ he said. ‘I suppose I just had a lot on my mind. The case. An old flame.’
‘That’s a relief. I just thought you didn’t like the way I kissed.’
He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She was still clutching the wine glass to her chest. Her teeth were resting on the fleshy pillow of her lower lip. A perfect set of pearly whites, except for two slightly protruding incisors. An infuriatingly fetching look.
‘So where were we?’ said Schlakier, gently taking the wine glass from her and putting it on the table. As their lips met, her entire body seemed to say ‘yes’.
This time, he had the good sense to leave the radio off.