As was the style, Sonya wore a black pencil skirt with her striped white buttoned blouse. She kept her hair in a professional
updo, even though she was off work. Sonya kept her heels on in hopes that tonight was the night she would succeed in that elusive hotel bar pickup. She told her husband she would be in
negotiations late into the night, and hoped he wouldn’t be suspicious that it was supposedly the fifty-third night of negotiations.
The fact was that she was weary of Harry’s…everything. He became boring to her, his style, his dress, his mannerisms, and she
wanted something new and exciting. Even his job as a boring old account executive, whatever that meant, was grating on her. This was what drove her to lie to him and to pick up strangers
in hotel bars. She’d been successful about a dozen times, but for the past couple weeks she’d hit a dry spell.
She hoped that tonight was the night. Sonya ordered a vodka martini and propped herself on a stool. She faced the
television but wasn’t paying attention to it. After her fourth martini, she decided she was done and would be going home. Just as she was settling up her tab, she saw him.
He stood by a stool and ordered an ice water. Sonya was instantly attracted to him. “Hello,” she said to him. “I’m
Sonya.” She approached him slowly, seductively, one foot decisively in front of the other, mostly to hide the fact that she was very off-balance and quite tipsy, but mostly because she wanted
to turn this handsome stranger on.
The handsome stranger glanced at her from the corner of his eye, almost perturbed at being interrupted from his glass of ice
water. He shook some ice down the side of the glass to his mouth and offered “Hi” with a feeble, quick, half-smile. He returned to his ice water.
“What’s your name?” she asked with a sigh.
The stranger looked at his watch, then took another sip. “Matt,” he said in a hurry.
“You come here often?” she knew the answer was no because she’d been there every night for the past two months.
“I’m from out of town…another one?” Matt asked of the bartender.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Oh, a Californian! What are you doing in town?”
Sonya saw that Matt would be a tough nut to crack. She continued to flirt with him, hoping she wasn’t pestering
him. “How long are you in town?” She examined his appearance, liking what she saw. He wore a black turtleneck, black leather gloves and black slacks. He had long, wild, gray hair,
down to the middle of his back that he tried to keep tame by putting it in a ponytail. He had cold blue eyes and a nose that could belong to a Barrymore. He took off his dark gray
overcoat and hung it on his arm.
“I’m here for a couple of days,” he answered. “You guys got a kitchen?” he asked the bartender.
“Yeah, here’s what we got,” the bartender said, giving him a menu, a one page affair with a half-dozen basics but nothing
earth-shattering except for the price. He looked over the page quickly and asked for a plain bag of chips from the ones clipped and hanging behind the counter.
“You want something?” Matt asked Sonya, almost in pity. She was surprised at the offer, and agreed to a veggie plate, hoping
to absorb some of the alcohol in her belly. Sonya discreetly unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse. But it didn’t seem to work. “Well, I gotta go. It was nice to meet
you.” He tossed the empty bag on the bar, nodded at Sonya and moved toward the exit.
Sonya sat down at the bar, slumping over her carrots and celery. She began to weep, first silently, then with sobs. Her
shoulders rose and fell with each heave. Matt stopped just before the exit, turned around, and sighed, almost as if he was being imposed upon. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sonya said with a laugh between sobs.
“Yes…it is. What’s wrong?”
Sonya sighed in exasperation. “It’s just that I’ve been coming here for the past few weeks trying to get a guy to notice me
and I’ve failed miserably. I’m starting to wonder if it’s my looks or my personality or what.” She sobbed a little more. “I’m sorry, you’re really sweet for listening, but I
shouldn’t dump on you,”
“It’s okay,” Matt said warmly, even gently. “Why don’t you come up to my room and we can talk more in private?” She
agreed and they headed out of the bar together.
“So what are you doing in town for business?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know…Are you married?” He pointed at her ring finger, as where her wedding band would be was lighter than the
rest of her finger.
“Are things really that bad?” Matt asked in a caring, open way.
“Maybe I don’t love my husband anymore.”
“Just the old seven year itch, I guess, but I’m acting on it after ten years.”
“Your husband…what’s his name?” he asked this as if he were about to make a point.
“Does Harry love you still?”
“Did he ever love me at all is what you should be asking.”
“What would he do if he found out?”
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to be caught just to find out.”
“Well that’s a risky move. What if he kills you?”
“Then I’ll know he cares,” Sonya said with a weak smile.
They walked by a series of darkened conference rooms. “You’re really a beautiful lady, Sonya.” He rubbed her upper arm,
went down to her hand and held it, looking her in the eye. He kissed her. She felt the butterflies in her stomach.
“Tell me what you do,” she begged him.
“All right.” They made their way to an empty coat check room, constantly kissing breathlessly. “You’re not gonna believe
this but…” Sonya took off her scarf and blouse. She stood there in her bra and skirt. They kissed again. “I’m a contract killer,” Matt said in between passionate kisses.
“A hit man?” This excited Sonya to no end. “That is so hot!”
“In my line of work…I don’t get a lot of opportunities to meet people…and make relationships. It’s been…so long…since I’ve
been with a woman…” Sonya had shimmied out of her skirt and shoes, and now laid down on the floor in her underwear. Matt brought her scarf up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “You
smell…so good…” He took the scarf in both hands and smelled again. “Mmmm…I can’t get enough.”
“Matt, tell me…who are you going to kill next?” Sonya asked, deep in lust, crazy in the forbidden nature of the
tryst. “Who’s gonna die by your hand next?”
Matt crawled up over Sonya, still fully clothed, kissed her deeply again, looked her in the eyes like a tiger and said
“you.” Sonya laughed in delight.
But Matt was not talking dirty, flirting or even lying. He pressed her scarf tight around her neck and wound it around,
choking her breath away. She gasped her last, then her body collapsed on the floor, limp and lifeless.
Matt stood up and made his way out the hotel. He turned on his cell phone, pressed some buttons and the phone began to ring
on the other end. “Hey Harry? Mission accomplished. Yes. You know where to put the cash too, right? Good. It was a pleasure doing business.” He hung up and
disappeared into the night.
© Copyright 2016 Peter Amaral. All rights reserved.