POTN 2

POETRY  |  FICTION EXCERPT

Dark Seduction

by Nancy Kilpatrick, art by Suzan Lovett

"He’s the one I told you about," Paula whispered discreetly, giggling, leading Karen through the maze of cigarette smoking cocktail sippers who had been invited by Paula and Gary to their housewarming party outside Paris.

"He’d better be worth it," Karen whispered back. "I don’t like wasting my time or energy."

"I think he’s exactly what you’re looking for. And I know he’ll find you charming. Would I steer you wrong?" Paula’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously, just the way Karen remembered them when the two had met years ago in a high school pottery class. Back then they had become such good friends, so uncannily tuned into the same wave-length, that often one had finished the other’s sentences. Jokingly they used to refer to each other as "The Weird One".

"Karen, I’d like you to meet Armand Gautier. Armand, Karen Linden, my friend from the States."

They sized each other over. He was just a few inches taller than Karen, maybe five eleven, and looked a bit older, about thirty. Broad shoulders, medium build, he was trim and in good shape. He wore a designer suit, Cardin, she thought, because of the shoulders, double breasted, the color of slate, which accented his dark features. His hair and brows were black but, despite this, his skin was paler than the perpetual tan most dark-haired men seemed to cultivate. But he looks healthy enough, she thought. His lips were full, very well defined, perfectly shaped, and a pale red. They turned up slightly at the corners, but she didn’t get the impression that he was smiling. But his eyes were incredible. They, too, were dark, either grey or black, she couldn’t tell in the subdued light. They stared intensely into hers. Almost boring into me, came to mind, and Karen laughed to herself at the Victorianism.

She smiled and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you." But instead of shaking hers he brought it to his lips, bowed slightly and then kissed her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Enchantee." His voice was richly masculine. He spoke very good English, with just the trace of an accent. "The pleasure is all mine," he added, smiling a little. "But I’d better warn you — I become obsessed with green-eyed redheads."

She couldn’t tell if he was being facetious but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. She laughed, fiddling with her necklace. "Now, that’s very French." His smile seemed fixed.

"Karen’s here doing research," Paula said. "For her PhD."

"It’s on the supernatural," Karen added.

"A subject close to all our hearts," Armand said.

Karen picked up from his tone that he was being snide. "It is to mine," she remarked with more of an edge to her voice than she’d intended. He was still holding her hand and she pulled it away.

"I’m not always sarcastic." His voice warmed a little, his eyes became playful. "But I am a cynic. It’s the nature of the beast."

Suddenly two girls, and Karen could only call them that, came running up to him, one on each side. The girl on the left, a dark-haired, blue-eyed thing wearing a flouncy white dress that buttoned almost to her chin, grabbed his arm and cooed up into his face. The other one, blonde and brown-eyed, dressed in black leather and studded collar wide enough to conceal her entire neck, had formed her full lips into an exaggerated pout, which made Karen laugh out loud. The girl said something to him in French that Karen suspected mean ‘Oh, you’re so mean, not paying enough attention to me!’ or the equivalent.

Her laugh made him scowl. But the scene had struck Karen as so ludicrous that she had to turn away or she would have laughed in his face.

"Nice to have met you, Mr. Gautier," she mumbled, stumbling off, hand over her mouth, dragging Paula with her. To her friend Karen whispered, "And your daughters too."

"Shush!" Paula warned. "He’ll hear you."

"No he won’t. We’re too far away."

"He has unnaturally acute hearing. I wouldn’t get him angry, if I were you."