Gazelles and Lions

"It's Mina," she says with a slow, sly smile. She holds her drink in both hands, sipping through the cocktail straw. Her eyes lock on his.

"Steve," he extends his hand. She shakes it gingerly, her smile never wavering. She returns to the two-handed grip on her beverage.

"Can I get you another...?" He gestures questioningly.

"Bloody Mary. Yes, please."

"Bold choice for a hotel bar," he jokes, stepping away to get them both another round. A few minutes later, he returns to the hightop in the corner where he spotted her drinking alone. "Here you are, Mina," he practically sparkles with charm.

"What do you mean?" She asks, discarding the skewered olives. They lie in a heap atop jagged pieces of broken and melted ice in the finished glass.

"I thought half the fun of one of those was that it was also a snack. Like a dirty martini, but brunchier." He chuckles, sipping his Jack and Coke.

"I'm more of a carnivore, I suppose. But I am still curious what you mean."

"Oh, no, it's nothing, really. I mean, I go to a place like this, I keep the drinks simple, you know? This isn't exactly a spot for craft cocktails, and the food in this place is so blah."

"Oh, I don't know. I think the food here is fine. The crowd is definitely more like a watering hole in the wild, I get that. But my drink, it's just a premix and vodka, yes?"

"I mean, sure, but there's the stuff in it, too. Obviously, drink what you want, it's not like the opinion of strangers is of much interest, right?"

"True. Speaking of interest, I'm not interested in...most things...in this place." She delivers this line like a seductress in an old Bogart film, breaking eye contact just long enough to glance around the room, then back. Her eyes move south to north, taking him in, returning to and lingering on the south before returning to his gaze. She sips, he swallows. "I'm interested in you, though."

He chokes.

She releases a throaty, rich, incubus laugh that fills the room and makes Steve's heart race and voice thicken when he can finally speak.

"Been drinking long, Steve?" She teases.

"Apparently I'm new to it. You?" He takes a napkin from the table, wipes the Coke from his chin, scoffing at himself.

"Longer than you'd expect, I think." She's grinning again.

"Well. It's impolite to ask a lady her age."

"Is that what you think I am?"

"Wait. Is this a trick? A trans-type thing?"

"Not at all. It's an honest question."

"I hope not."

"You hope it's not an honest question, or is that your answer?"

It's his turn to grin slyly at her. "I hope you're not a lady."

"So you want me to have a dick?"

He chokes on his drink again, sputtering. "Oh, god, no, that's not what I meant, I---"

She laughs again, interrupting him. "I know, Steve. Relax. I'm only teasing. Trust me, there's no dick here."

"Well, if there were, I wouldn't judge."

"But you wouldn't want to fuck me."

"Jesus, Mina, wow, you're just gonna put it out there like that?" He blushes.

"Would you?"

"What? Say it like that?"

"No. Would you fuck me? If I had a dick, I mean."

"Holy shit, what, you're getting into this on the first date?"

"Is this a date? I'm just a girl in a bar. You're just a boy trying to make me end up with a dick one way or another, or have I misread this?" That grin never fades.

"Maybe I need another drink."

"Oh, poor lion in the savanna finds out he's really the gazelle. Careful. I hear whiskey can impact performance. I think we have plans."

His eyes bulge, but he decides to roll with it. "Okay, well, I do have a room here."

"I don't. Take me home. I'd be more relaxed at my house."

"I've been drinking."

"Oh, I see. I'm not worth the risk. Well, thanks for the drink, Steve." She stands, moving to head towards a booth occupied by a pair of what look to be men in town on business, just like Steve. He reaches out, catches her by the wrist.

"Wait."

She stops, looks down at his grip and back up to him. Her grin becomes a toothy thing, and she leans in to whisper in his ear. "You're a big, strong boy aren't you?" Her tongue flicks his lobe, and he shivers. "Maybe there is some lion in there."

"I'll drive you home. Just let me have a word with my friend at the bar, so he knows I'm leaving." He lets go of her arm, and it's her turn to catch his hand. Her fingers intertwine with his.

"Don't be long," she almost moans, and releases him.

Steve smiles dumbly and approaches the bar. His sales partner has been watching the whole time from across the room, and he greets Steve with a handshake. "Congratulations, man."

Steve can't help but feel like he's won the lottery. Mina is an absolute knockout, if a bit strange. "We're going to her house."

"Out-damn-standing my man."

"Do me a favor. Take a pic of us when I get back over there. I need this for posterity. She's too goddamn hot to not remember with a photo and if I do it it's just weird and creepy."

"If I do it, it's completely normal behavior from a stranger sitting at the bar? You serious?"

"Get after it, man. And text it to me. I can't believe she wants me to carry her home and fuck. She basically said so, can you believe it?"

"You're a lucky man, Stevey."

With that, Steve goes back to the high top in the corner. He stands so that his buddy can capture Mina and he together. Behind her back, Steve gives a lascivious grin and a thumbs-up to Abe at the bar. So lost in lust is Steve that he doesn't notice the perplexed looks Abraham gives his phone.

Later, when the police are investigating, Abe gladly shows the photographs and texts to the detectives; Steve never checks those text messages, because he has his hands full.

Soon after arriving at her house, Mina and her sister Lucy have their hands full of Steve, too.

If those texts had been checked, Steve would have seen a series of question marks both preceding and following photos from the bar.

Three pictures, taken seconds apart while Abe stares at his phone in disbelief, each show Steve with his arm around empty air, giving a goofy grin and thumbs up.

Mina was at the table, but not in the photographs.

No one ever noticed that she cast no reflection in the mirror behind the hotel bar, either.

People aren't supposed to disappear without a trace, but the investigation never moves from missing person to homicide.