Nymphetamine
Heather stood at the door and hesitated before touching the knob. It didn’t buy her the time she was hoping for because the door opened in apparent expectation of her arrival. She lingered in the doorway, her right hand firmly holding the jamb, her left one catching her forehead when her neck muscles weakened under the strain of fear. She remained in the spot until her body began working properly and all functioning restarted.
At the touch of her first footfall, music started blasting through speakers she couldn’t see. The Four Seasons belted out Oh, What A Night, a tune that had always instilled good feelings in her. Heather’s comfort level began to rise, despite the terror she knew the room might hold. A strange magnetic draw lured her in deeper and she found she didn’t want to fight its power.
She made it about halfway through when nightclub lights flooded the room and showed Heather she was on a dance floor. She was surrounded by people dancing and had to walk carefully so that she didn’t run into them. Although they didn’t acknowledge her presence with eye contact or any other interaction, the other patrons subtly created a path that led Heather straight to the bar.
When she got there, she laid her elbows on the cold surface. The energy level in the room was contagious and she could feel her nerves adjusting to the tempo of the music. She’d almost forgotten that she hadn’t arrived with friends or that she was in Hell’s lobby. Her fingers beat the song onto the bar while she waited for service.
“What can I get for you?” a deep voice asked.
The bartender was about six foot one and he had a head full of dark curls. His eyes were a piercing blue and his dimples reminded her of Antonio Banderas.
As he flirted with her, Heather looked around with growing confusion. She wondered if she had accidentally walked through the door to paradise and envisioned angelic bodyguards coming to toss her out. Glancing around nervously, she prayed the mistake wouldn’t be caught until she’d at least had a drink.
“Long Island iced tea, please,” she answered with a smile and a wink.
Heather told herself there was no threat here and became gleefully complacent, allowing herself to believe what she wanted to believe. The id inside was vying to take control and Heather relaxed in the knowledge that her superego would rush in and save her when the time came. To the devil on one shoulder, she was playful and attentive but to the angel on the other, she was neglectful and tried to shake off its existence.
The delicious bartender poured several liquors into a glass of waiting ice and placed it in front of her. She nodded her thanks and took a long sip.
“What would you like on the side?” he asked.
Heather noticed that he even sounded like Antonio
Banderas and she warmed up to him without the barriers that were usually present. His question surprised her. Nobody had ever offered her a side with a cocktail.
“Come again?” she asked.
The bartender reached out to take her hand and Heather felt electricity at his touch. His sexiness was ridiculous and it made direct contact with her libido. Slowly and teasingly, he opened her fingers and placed a menu in her hands.
“I’m not hungry,” she pouted.
He started to laugh and Heather felt suddenly naive. Innocence was a rare feeling for her and she liked it. When she looked down at the menu, disbelief took hold. The menu listed every drug known to man and each one had