Michael in Room 147  Beverly Koepplin

It had been a long day, and I stood apart from the crowd that still danced in the ballroom. The bride and groom had joined their guests in some crazy line dance, and I watched with a smile pasted on my face, foot-sore in my satin high heels and confined in my scarlet taffeta dress. Like hell I’d ever wear this dress again, I thought. Waste of my money and only done because the bride and I were close cousins. But I was happy for her, and as I watched her and her new husband celebrate, I was slightly envious. I had never been married, and the prospects of possible husbands were dwindling down from few to none. Oh well, no use feeling sorry for myself, and I moved off to the bar to get another glass of champagne, stumbling slightly from either the unaccustomed heels or the champagne I’d been sipping all evening, or both. Better make this my last glass and is it too early to cut out, I wondered.

As I stood at the bar, waiting my turn, I gazed around the room, my eyes finding yet again the tall dark handsome man who stood at the edge of the dance floor. I had noticed him all evening, even caught him staring at me. He was dressed entirely in black except for his red cummerbund and the red lining in his dinner jacket. His darkness suited his somber air, and while he was not off-putting in any specific way, something about his stillness bothered me. Like a lion watching his prey, I thought. Be careful of this one. I turned to get my champagne from the bartender, and then wandered off to the sign the guest book while I still remembered to do so. Then, I thought, I’d finish this glass, find the bathroom, and start bidding my adieus.  It was time to go, I decided, time to dash out in the cold rain and find my way home.

When I straightened up from the guest book table, I found the tall dark man next to me. I was startled; he had moved so silently that I had not heard him approach. He smiled and, bowing slightly, he apologized for startling me and asked if I cared to join him in the next dance. I cocked my head, listening to the tune that had just started, and decided I would take this one chance before I left. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. As he held out his hand, I moved to the floor with him where he folded me in his arms, not too close but close enough for me to follow his lead. And he could dance. I soon relaxed in his arms, closed my eyes and swayed to the music, letting him steer me lightly across the ballroom. I even dismissed my feelings of uneasiness, chiding myself for suspecting there was anything amiss with this man. I found I was now so close to him that my cheek rested against his chest, and I smelled a slight hint of smoke, like his shirt had been scorched or he had been near something that had been burning. Oh well, it adds to the masculine touch and the mystery of him, I thought.

He was silent as we danced, but when the song ended he inclined his head inquiringly at me and asked if I would dance with him again. I nodded my assent. One more dance, and I will leave, I promised myself. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed dancing with someone who did it so well. And who knows when the next time will be? Again, I relaxed in his arms, snuggling even closer and let myself drift off. I realized he was whispering something in my ear, so I tuned back in and listened. He said he had been watching me all evening and was intrigued by me, telling me that he very glad to have the pleasure of dancing with me.  He had an English accent that tickled at my senses.  I could listen to him all night, I thought.

Soon that dance ended. He smoothly set me on my feet, holding onto my hands as he explained that he needed to leave as he was expecting an important call, but that he had taken a room in the hotel and would be very glad to have me join him there for a nightcap. I explained that was something I was not comfortable with, going to a stranger’s room alone. With an arched eyebrow, he exclaimed, “The devil you say! You are so alluring that I know you are no stranger to a walk on the wild side. Come with me. It is wretched out, and I will keep you warm.” And I found myself nodding, thinking I would go up for one drink before I set out in the horrible weather for home.  It couldn’t hurt, I thought.

We agreed to meet in his room in ten minutes, then we parted. I found my wrap, said my goodbyes, visited the restroom, and made my way to the elevator. While the elevator rose to the next floor, I found myself regretting my decision. Well, you’re a big girl, I said to myself. You can have one drink and then take off. Surely, this man is a gentleman. And then I realized I did not even know his name, though the name Michael floated through my brain, so he must have introduced himself while we danced and I had been lost in his smooth moves.

As I got off the elevator, I shrugged off my uneasiness and walked toward room 147. As I got closer, I noticed the hall was unusually warm, and I took off my wrap. Must be something wrong with the HVAC in this area, I thought. I also noticed a stale smell of smoke. Whatever had happened in the corridor, I hoped his room would be cooler and aired out. I knocked on the door and waited for him to open, watching an odd red light flicker under the doorway.  Can’t be a lava lamp, surely, not in this ritzy old hotel.

And then he opened the door, and all hell broke loose.
                     
                                          ***