"Y ou live alone, Cinderella?" The gabled house filled the darkness.

"Do you remember Garbo?" she asked, sliding her key into the lock.

I looked at her. Generation X. Skin too pale, too obsessed with death. Hair black. Clothes black. Black jewel piercing a nostril. Black lipstick. Who cared? "Wasn't he Mario's buddy in that video game?"

An eyebrow lifted. "One could say." She smiled that same secret smile she used at the bar, lips never parting.

Jeez, I hoped we weren't going to play video games, not with hips like hers within reach. Be my luck, though. Just passing through town, I take home the finest-looking babe in the bar only to end up playing Mario. Not what I wanted to play.

She turned on lights, hundreds of them, small, low-wattage, everywhere. Nothing cast a shadow, yet everything remained shrouded in one. The door clicked shut behind us.

"Let me take your coat." She leaned close to remove it. She blew on my neck, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. I guess she didn't want to play Mario either.

Her eyes were black, as huge as the house. And older. A person could get lost in them. I was only dimly aware of the clock chiming. A lot. I lost count.

In the dying echoes she smiled. And her lips parted. Whiteness glistened, and I knew. I knew what was happening to me and what was going to happen. And I didn't care.