Pizza and Wolves

Of course.  My last stop would be on the weirdest dead-end street in town.  No street lights, decrepit old mansions, and the creepy cemetery surrounding the cul-de-sac.  I’ve been here a couple of times before.  Quite a few times, actually.  Some good friends inherited a property here some years ago and tried to fix it up, turn it into a bed-and-breakfast, or rent it out.  As much as they tried to fix it, though, they couldn’t really do anything about the neighbors.  A creepier group of people will never be found.  The only ones we ever saw in the daytime kept leaving “gifts” in the graveyard.  The small dead animals they left chased away every potential renter my friends could find. 
         Oh well.  I guess I’d better get rid of this pizza before it gets cold.  Ugh, please let that be the wrong street number.  Blast!  The house is actually in the cemetery!  And I think I see a bat flitting in the dim light of the dying sun.  Does it get any creepier?  I swear, next time, Tony gets to deliver here! 
         My legs grow unsteady as I get closer to the door.  My heart pounds in my chest; my lungs hoard air as if they’ll never have fresh air again.  This fear is unnatural, irrational.  It’s just another freakin’ pizza delivery! 
         With a shaking hand, I raise the skull-shaped doorknocker.  It looks (and feels) a little too real for my tastes.  Before I even get a chance to actually knock, though, the thick oaken door swings inward to reveal a man.  My eyes widen at the sight.  Standing before me is probably the best-looking man I’ve ever seen in my life!  Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even begin to give this man justice!  He makes Orlando Bloom look like a pimply-faced hunchback in comparison!  Clothed all in black, with an open button-down shirt showcasing his firm, very well defined, six-pack abs and muscular chest, his intense steel-blue eyes seem to be begging me to stay with him awhile.  Shoulder-length, perfectly tousled jet-black hair completes his dangerous, yet ever so inviting, wolf-like appearance.
         “Hi!  Pizza time!”  I barely manage to blurt out. 
         “Looks good,” the man purrs, most definitely not looking at the pizza.  “Come in for a minute, while I get your payment.”
         Of course, as a young woman delivering food to stranger’s houses, I have been told countless times never to actually enter a customer’s house, but by now, I’ve already made the mistake of looking into this man’s hypnotic eyes.  I am powerless now to refuse his demand (for that’s what it was, there was no question asked – and he knew that I would follow.  No matter how loudly and insistently my brain screams at me not to listen, my legs no longer seem to be mine to control.  I let my mysterious hottie lead me into his vast entry hall, which looks so elegant, refined, immaculate that I find it difficult to believe that the inside and the outside of this house are actually the same building, owned by the same sexy man. 
         “Nice place,” I mumble, still holding the pizza box, which my host does not seem at all interested in any more.  The man is behind me, edging so close that I can feel his body touching mine.  I can feel his warm breath on my neck, his strong hands resting on my shoulders.  Any strength I still have seems to flee my body at his touch, in a desperate attempt to escape from whatever will happen next.  I’m terrified, and yet the longing is so strong, to know more of this man, to discover what he really wants.  The pizza falls from my suddenly limp hands, cheese and sauce covering the marble tiles at my feet.  It looks disturbingly like blood.  Oh God, what is happening?  What’s going on? 
         The man turns me around (I’ve lost all ability to move of my own accord) and, once again, gazes intensely into my eyes.  I begin to fall; he catches me effortlessly.  He knew exactly when I would fall.  He was ready for it all along.  The last thing I see is his triumphant smile, full of sharp, white teeth.
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         So dark.  What happened?  My head and heart feel light with a feeling like the last lingering effects of forbidden pleasure mixed with the foreboding terror of the unknown.  I can’t move.  Did that man (or should I call him “thing” or “creature”?  I am quite sure he is not truly, not completely a man) drug me?  Or did he simply hypnotize me into paralysis?  I imagine that the last is truer, but no, I can feel something rough at my wrists, ankles, and neck.  I’m tied to a chair.  Oh God, what terrible things will he do to me (what may he have already done in my unconsciousness)?  My breath comes in shallow gasps.  I struggle in vain against perfectly knotted ropes.  My mouth opens to scream, but, finally, logic and good sense kick in (a little late.  Had they come earlier, I might not be in this mess at all).  Screaming would most likely be completely pointless and, very probably, detrimental to my situation.  From what I’ve heard about this area (I guess I’m still in the creature’s mansion), no one will report any strange noises from around the cemetery and screaming will just make my captor angry. 
         Why, oh why didn’t I just agree to clean up tonight?  But no.  “Tony, you never have to close up; you always make the last few runs.”  Blast!  From now on, he can take all the deliveries he wants!  I’ll gladly clean up the mess!  Of course, cleaning up after Tony requires me to get out of here alive.  There has to be a way!  There is always a way.  Just have to concentrate. 
         Are those footsteps?  There’s definitely more than one set coming down those stairs.   
          
{to be continued}