The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Dinner Date
by Kim Richards
Bursa arrived for her evening dinner date dressed in a medium blue satin dress which matched her eyes. Her hair, dyed a blue-black, was swept up in a feminine bun with carefully curled strands hanging down at her temples. Her lips were rouged with red lipstick. She spent the extra money on the kind which resists rubbing off with a kiss.
She anticipated this date ever since receiving the invitation in the mail. Who sends those anymore? Only for the most formal of occasions these days so she knew this evening would be special. She was flattered to her core.
The name of the man on the envelope was familiar to her, though she couldn’t place him. Alexandru Nistor. Googling it did nothing to ease her curiosity. He addressed it in an elegant looping script. She liked that a lot and decided to accept. She practiced her handwriting for two hours before filling out the RSVP card.
As her Uber driver pulled up to the house, Bursa looked twice and asked him if he had the correct address. The man frowned and pointed to the address painted on the curb. She muttered an apology and exited the car. As he drove off, she turned her attention to the house.
She expected something older, perhaps Victorian. Certainly not a single story with a flat roof and stucco sides. It’s squat chain link fence saw better days. It was bent in spots and coming off the rails in others. The yard beyond was brown and unkempt. There was a warm light in one of the larger windows. That encouraged her so she stepped down the uneven cement path to the front door.
After pushing the door bell button, she waited. No one answered and so she rang it again. Just as she pulled out her phone to call the Uber driver back, the porch light flicked on. The door opened with a creak.
She stood before a stooped elderly man with a pudgy nose. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans held up with red suspenders. His dark eyes glittered in the porch light.
“Yes?” he asked.
Bursa handed him the invitation and replied, “I’m here to see Alexandru Nistor. He should be expecting me.”
“Indeed he is.” The man opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. “This way Miss.”
She followed him inside. The large opulent interior surprised her. The inside was as lush as the outside was dilapidated. The difference was striking.
“Alexandru collects antiques,” she said to the little man.
“Indeed he does.”
He led her to a set of sliding doors. Heavy wooden things with intertwining roses and vines carved on the surfaces. Grasping the iron handles, he struggled to slide them apart. Bursa resisted the urge to step forward and help him.
The man stepped to the side and waved one hand. “Make yourself comfortable. I will let him know you have arrived.”
“Thank you,” Bursa said. Then she turned her attention to the room as she stepped inside. He struggled to close the doors behind her.
Two oil lamps burned low but provided enough light to reveal more antiques. Blue velvet covered chairs and a couch. A mahogany table with more roses carved on it’s legs. She laughed. The tablecloth matched her dress. On top of it was a silver tea pot and sugar bowl. Next to that sat a tall crystal decanter filled with a clear liquid. All of them were ornately decorated. On either side of the drink ware flowers were laid out. Red and yellow roses along with white calla lilies. Bursa wondered why they weren’t in a vase. She might ask Alexandru.
After several long moments, the doors easily slid open. Bursa recognized Alexandru instantly. She raised her right hand to her neck where two round little scars blemished her white skin. A faint memory of a romantic encounter with him fluttered at the back of her mind. It was a pleasant tryst and she wondered why she’d forgotten.
The tall man was handsome with inky hair pulled back in a short pony tail. He wore a red modern silk suit, tailored to fit his thin frame perfectly. His dark eyes stared at her and instantly she felt naked.
The doors closed behind him with an audible click. Alexandru held out his long arms and Bursa rushed into them.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered and laid her head on his shoulder.
“I know.” His voice was like velvet, as was his touch when he caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “I am here now. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Certainly,” he said. He opened his mouth to expose his fangs, turned his head, and buried them in her neck.
All Bursa could do was moan in pleasure.