Lady in the Red Dress

She had been tossing the theory about her head for a while. Bouncing it between the walls of her skull, eyes turned skyward. She was a piece of meat. Nothing more. Just a piece of meat. Trussed, scented, there to be paraded about. When did she turn from being a human being into a piece of meat?

They devour her with their eyes. With that slow travelling gaze, lingering on certain parts of her body (never her face). It was inevitable. The stare came from everywhere. From all types of men. Eyeballs hovering, burning holes into her artfully exposed flesh.

Andrea was sitting at the bar. One hand curled lightly around a dewy wine glass. It was half empty. The sweet taste of white wine swirled around her mouth and sat on the tip of her tongue, as she ran it slowly over her lower lip. She did that on purpose. For the benefit of the men in the bar, who were watching her out the corner or their eyes. She smiled slightly, feeling their gazes intensify and lose their subtlety. It was a game to her. Just a game, the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder, crossed her legs loosely, sipped the rim of her wine glass. It was all about the connotations. She wanted their hands to sweat and their minds to fill with thoughts of her, as they sat huddled in their little groups. Nursing depleting glasses of beer. It was a game. She knew it. They knew it. But they didn’t know how far she took the game. They didn’t know what she did to those who plucked up the courage to approach her. It was revenge, for seeing her as a piece of meat she decided evilly.

He was sitting in the corner. Chatting unenthusiastically within a small group of friends, all businessmen. She shifted in her chair, making the screaming red dress she was wearing flash in his general direction. He glanced up, distracted by the flash. He glanced a second time, intrigued by the creature draped seductively over the bar. Her finger was running softly down the spine of her lone wine glass. Her foot, encased in a matching red stiletto, rubbed hypnotically up against the bar wall. He imagined he heard the friction, even over the reasonable ruckus of the bar. Brian abandoned the light conversation bouncing around him, captivated by the lady at the bar. With her smooth, smooth legs, wrapped around each other like lovers arms. Brian had not wanted to come out to the bar tonight. He had wanted to curl up in his empty, shadowed apartment and eat Doritos. As he did every night. He would call June, his ex-wife (for a whole month now) and sweat as it rang. Sometimes June would pick up, her light voice trembling as he let the silence lengthen.
“Hello?....Hello? Who is this? Hello?”
Brian would breathe softly until she uttered some insult and left him breathing in time with the dial tone. Sometimes he would pick up. Chad. The better man. The man who had won. The man who June wanted. It was all Chad now. With his blinding, pristine white smile and clipped, cultured voice. Chad, with his never ending knowledge of Shirazes and architecture. Chad and the way he answered the phone,
“Hello, Chad Burnham speaking” as if someone might mistake him for June. Brain always hanged up on him. Slamming the phone down, hoping Chad would feel the force of it in his ear. Brian’s friends (mostly workmates) had staged an intervention. After work today, they had all bunched around him and piled him into a taxi as he protested. James, his closest friend had looked at him sternly
“Shut up Brian. We all want to get wasted and you’re not bailing on us again, ok mate?”
The other occupants in the taxi had gazed at Brian with a barely masked pity. For the poor fool who couldn’t keep a wife. Brian had squared his shoulders and shrugged.
“We both know how much more fun I am drunk” they had both laughed.
Five weary, forced beers later and Brian was more than ready to call a taxi home. Until now.

She pulled a bullet shaped lip gloss from her clutch, pretending to be absorbed in the task of painting her lips. Really, she was monitoring the man who had been staring at her for a substantial length of time now. He wasn’t subtle. Swallowing her with wide almost stunned eyes. His collar was slightly askew, as if he had been tugging on it all night. A deep flush was creeping up from his neck, suggesting a combination of inebriation and nervousness. He kept looking at her, gripping his drink a little too tightly. Andrea decided he seemed worth the effort. He looked vulnerable enough, certainly drunk enough. So she slowly turned her body in the stool and returned his gaze. She lowered her lashes and looked up through them, to where he was sitting. Only for a moment. Then she ducked her head away, feigning a blush. It worked, she thought gleefully. It was too easy!! The man had shivered under her gaze, surprised and almost frightened. As if the idea that she could notice him was too infallible to contemplate. But he hadn’t looked away. That was what she wanted. That meant that somewhere in that slouched, deflated body, he wanted to play the game, her game. She ordered another glass of wine, tossing another short glance to the corner he was holed up in. She felt a burst of adrenaline shoot through her body. Making it rise and tingle. She slide her lips together silkily, thinking, let the chase begin.

Brian felt so disorientated. It had been a long time since he had been in a bar situation. He had forgotten how the later the night the louder the bar became. The noise was beginning to press against him. He was intimidated by the enormity of it, so much so that he felt himself shrink. His head had begun to ache. But he couldn’t tear his eyes off the girl at the bar. She was beautiful. She radiated.  She had been throwing him soft, little glances for a while now. Even James had noticed, he had nudged Brian in the ribs making him wince. “Briannn, that chick in the red dress wants you bad!! Get in there!!” he said enthusiastically “You need it” he added in a lower tone. Brian flushed violently. He did need it. But it had been so long. He faltered, thinking about June. She had destroyed every bit of confidence he possessed before she left him for Chad. But then again. It had been so long. Inside him his fear of failure sat in his gut. But the alcohol he had consumed out of obligation was twisting his vision and dipping its long intoxicating tendrils into his mind. He was caught up in a cacophony of the past and the present, his pain and his desires. Suddenly all that mattered to him was somehow finding a way to possess the lady in the red dress. To prove June wrong. To prove them all wrong. To prove he wasn’t nothing.

She was overcome with a sense of giddiness. The reason for this being her prey had finally taken the plunge for her bait (the legs she dangled so precociously and the lips she parted ever so slightly). She had watched him as he downed his drink determinedly. Throwing his head back so his neck went taut, the tendons becoming thick and visible. He wiped off the escaping driblets with his sleeve while holding her, his goal, in his magnetic gaze. His friends had hushed and let out a low murmur of surprise and interest when he had risen from his chair and strode towards her. Andrea had felt the hum of their voices against her skin, feeling it bristle as he came closer. Finally, closer. The elation rushing through her lifted her almost to the ceiling as she pictured in her mind, the ditch he would lay in at the end of the night. She twisted slightly towards him as his body slipped into her aura. Brian fidgeted awkwardly beside her, feeling the confidence, that had existed in such waves in him before, start to drain away. He didn’t think she could be more beautiful up close. He could never be anything to someone like that, he thought miserably. Me, just a pathetic, white collar loser. She regarded him condescendingly as he shook uncertainly for what seemed an eternity, being careful not to let the disdain she felt fall into her eyes. She sighed, knowing she had to initiate this, before he scuffled back into his corner.
“Hi” she said, almost a purr “How are you tonight?”
He stopped twisting his hands, and stared at her. His lower lip dropped a little before he quickly snatched it back up. Brian hoped she hadn’t seen him falter. She had seen him, and it made her want to finish the game, her way, even more.
“Hey” Brian stuttered, tripping over his tongue as it tried to settle in his mouth “Can I buy you a drink?”
She nodded “Another glass of white would be lovely, but only if your having another drink to”
Brian hadn’t planned on having another drink; his stomach was trembling with queasiness already. But he ordered two drinks and claimed to stool next to the lady in red as his own.
“My name’s Andrea” she said, making sure she elongated the vowels, only just letting the words slip off her tongue.
“My name’s Brian,” he said shyly, focusing more on the beer he had just ordered.
He was being surrounded by her scent, a musky exotic cloud that permeated his being. Andrea swallowed the frustrated scream shaking in her throat. She hated the bumbling fools who were so unsure in their selves. She hated how they fought their demons and choked on their words, wasting time she could be using to deal with them and dispose of their body. Brian was panicking. He had mustered the courage to approach this gorgeous woman, and now all he could do was sit here mutely. The eyes of every man in the bar were boring wounds into his already shredded confidence. They watched him, waiting and hoping that he would fail. They watched him, waiting and hoping he would succeed. He tried to think of something they could talk about. All his thoughts ran through his head and tripped over themselves in their eagerness. Andrea was beginning to look around the bar discretely. Probably embarrassed that he had dared to approach her. Suddenly she pulled in close to him, so her lips hovered next to the trembling lobe of his ear. “Brian. Do you want to go back to my place?”
He almost fell off his chair, having to quickly grip the sides with his hands until the knuckles grew white. Andrea’s expectant face floated in front of him, her liquid eyes shone with what he assumed was desire; her lips were still wet from where she had licked them. Waiting for his answer.
“Yeah” was all Brian’s mind could assemble in its confusion and excitement. His voice was coarse and low. It grated against the wall of his throat while his Adam’s apple jerked.
Andrea sighed softly, slipping off her stool quickly. Her stilettos clicked on the floor.
“Now” she said, forcefully.
Brian jumped to his feet immediately, a little startled by her fierce tone. Andrea grabbed her small, silver clutch and linked her arm around Brain’s elbow, while he stayed in a dumbstruck stupor. He had half convinced himself she was a hallucination, conjured up from the alcohol he had consumed. Her red dress clung to and accentuated her body. Making the eyeballs of the inhabitants of the bar simmer with lust. The dress ended just above her knee, the cut of it letting the persistent observers see a sliver of tanned thigh, when she moved. Andrea pulled Brain closer to her as they made their way to the exit. He tried to breathe slowly, to calm his erratic heartbeat. On the way out he caught James’s eye, who promptly grinned and gave him two thumbs up. The guys either side of James made lewd body movements, as if giving Brian instructions on what he should do to the lady in red. He felt arrogant, knowing every man wished he was Brian right now. He threw his arm around Andrea’s waist, drawing her even closer against his body. She smiled to herself, not thinking about much he revolted her, but about what she was going to do to him when they finally got to her place. Her Cheshire cats smile widened.

They caught a taxi. In the darkness of the back seat Brian became emboldened. His hands waged a war on Andrea’s body. Running and racing over every surface his fingers could probe. Andrea rolled her eyes, letting him pant next to her. Lust was perfect for lulling someone into a false sense of security she reminded herself, as Brian’s hand shot up the tender flesh of her thigh. She barely swallowed the bile that rose from her stomach, placated by only one thought that she repeated like a mantra. It won’t be long. It won’t be long. It won’t be long. And he’ll be dead.

Andrea’s house was very elegant. Dark wood dominated the surfaces, and it shone with thick layers of varnish. Her furniture was plush and colour co-ordinated. He was sitting in her lounge room waiting for Andrea to bring them some more drinks. She had put on a cd before she had gone. Some random mix of songs like Songs for Summer or Songs to Make a One Night Stand Feel Relaxed. Right now a male crooned about love and windows softly. He noticed how everything in this house was meticulously ordered. Maybe she was a control freak he pondered lightly. In the kitchen Andrea had poured two glasses of her favourite white wine. It was her favourite because the toxic powder she usually sprinkled into it always dissolved easily. Leaving no traces of the substance in the bottom of an empty glass. She pulled a locked container from her cupboard. Inside were hundreds of small packets of white powder. She pulled two out. She had gotten the powder on an overseas trip to Asia. An old lady with a crinkled face had smiled widely as Andrea had asked for it. She bobbled her head knowingly, commentating in her cracked English “Yes, yes, men bad”
Andrea carefully tipped the first packet into the glass. Shaking it by the corners so every particle dissolved into the compliable liquid. She really only needed one packet to kill him. It usually hit them by the time they had finished their second glass of wine. The idiots becoming paralysed, their eyes shaking with fear as they tried to understand what was happening to them. Then the foam would come, spitting out the edges of their mouths. Before they slipped into a coma. Andrea would creep to their side then. Curiously entranced by their silent, shuddering bodies. She would press two fingers to their neck to find a faint pulse, driven to heights of ecstasy when it struggled into nothing. When their final breathe whispered past their lips. Andrea wanted something more violent tonight. She still felt violated, from the men who had eaten her alive tonight, who had guffawed loudly with crude comments about her body. Who saw her as a piece of meat. From Brian who hadn’t even asked her what she did for a job. So she picked up the second packet and emptied it, taking a skewer and swirling the contents of the glass. She gazed at it intensely, searching in between the bubbles for anything that might betray her ulterior motive. She could see her reflection in the glass. Caught in a golden hue. Her eyes looked wild. Her mouth twitched with apprehension. It won’t be long.

Brian gave Andrea a wide smile as she re-entered and set a full wine glass down in front of him. He took a quick gulp, not unimpressed by the sweet, fruity taste of it. It had a sharp aftertaste that pulsed behind his teeth.
He nodded his approval
“This is nice” he took another sip “What is it called?”
Andrea loosened the acute stare she had locked on Brain as he sipped.
“Joran white wine, it is from a small winery from in the country. It’s my favourite” she said lightly, harbouring her anticipation carefully as it grew.
He nodded, sipping his drink again, to try and break the awkward air with some movement.
“So what is it you do Andrea?” he asked
She sunk back into her chair, crossing her legs. Her drink lay untouched on the table.
“I do some shift work as a secretary. But I’m a widow; I used to be a housewife”
Brian looked at her incredulously. She didn’t look beyond early twenties, with her unmarred, oval face and nubile, fluid body. She chuckled softly, at his inability to mask his surprise. The chuckle was not light-hearted but cynical. He noticed her eyes were dark and haunted, shaking with the weight of hidden memories. Her lashes, like blinkers, kept flicking to try and hide the truth her eyes laid bare. His heart panged a little for this young, beautiful lady in red, who had obviously been through more than he could imagine.
“I’m sorry, I guess I just can’t picture you married your being so young” he shrugged slightly “put it down to ignorance on my part. I’m divorced so perhaps I’m a little jaded”
She drew her eyebrows together in a frown. A small crinkle on her forehead, that didn’t take away from her alluring image.
“What happened” she asked as he sipped his drink.
“She left me for another man. I thought she was my soul mate; I gave her everything I had in me. I guess sometimes that’s not enough” his voice began to flood with emotion, he had trouble forming the words, as if his tongue had swollen and was preventing the noise from coming out. He felt slowed down. He hadn’t been drunk in quite a while, perhaps tonight’s effort had really seeped into his blood. Andrea hadn’t said anything to his revelation. She was perched on her chair, her face frozen with this look of half fear.
Brian felt his stomach twinge with pain. He shook his head to throw off the lingering spasms. With a heavy realisation he decided this was not where he wanted to be tonight.
“Andrea” he sighed “I don’t think this is what I should be doing, while you are so beautiful and obviously intelligent, I am still in love with my ex wife. I think it would be best if I just went home”.
Andrea didn’t say anything, letting only a half muffled gasp pass from her lips. She stayed glued to her chair, her legs pressed tight together. Brian decided that he wouldn’t get more of a reaction from Andrea and went to leave. He could not. His body stayed seated. He shot a look of utter fear to Andrea and tried to wrench himself up from the chair. His body nonchalantly ignored him. He tried in vain to stand, stuttering incoherently
“What, wha…I can’t, whaaat” his voice was pitched with fear.
He remained pinned to the plush burgundy chair. Andrea watched him, still frozen. She had seen this before, but they had all seen her as a piece of meat. They deserved it. He deserves it. But, a small part of her pricked her mind insistently. He was going to leave, he loved a woman. Brian was crying now, the tears pushed out from the frustration of his failed movement and the confusion of what it was that kept him prisoner.
“Hell, help me” he said urgently to Andrea, veins in his forehead grotesquely visible. She shook her head fervently. Her hair shivered like a curtain around her face.
“This is what you deserve” she said, her voice hollow. Brian’s eyes bulged, as he continued struggling. His stomach was overwhelmed by pain, hot, stabbing rushes that left him breathless. He could only moan and press his eyelids together as another wave conquered him. Foam began to bubble out the corner of his mouth, first it was white, but gradually it began to ooze brown and mottled green. It was foam, but also solid. The mixture trickled down his neck onto his clothes. Andrea’s heart was pounding against her rib cage. Every animal noise that managed to emit itself from Brian’s shuddering form cut into her. Somehow, the satisfaction she usually felt at this time seemed to be eluding her. She could not tear her eyes from Brian. He was in immense pain. He was dishevelled and stained, sweat, mucus, tears and foam had stuck his clothes to his skin. He was convulsing dangerously, every muscle crying out and jerking from the poison that had completely infiltrated his insides. Andrea bit her lip as Brian forced a guttural cry of disbelief. He could barely breathe, the fits stealing his energy. Somehow he managed to gather the strength to mutter one last word, almost choking on the liquid in his mouth.
“Why?”
He slumped in the chair. Crumpled and empty. Andrea knew he was dead, without even having to check his pulse. She let out a sigh. Her breathing was loud and haggard, she realised she was gripping the arms of the chair, digging her nails into the material. When she released her hold, her hands fluttered cautiously. She stared at Brian candidly. After a period of frozen silence she stood, picking the empty wine glass up off the floor. To Brain’s fallen shell she said clearly
“Because you deserved it”.