“Merci, Madam Cochette!”
“Zee, I tol’ jou dat jou ‘ould catch on.”
“Yes, yes, even if it’s only a little.” David didn’t dare admit, but when Mrs. Madelyn Cochette flashed a smile at him, something made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if it had something or everything to do with her youthful face, or something else. “You have a beautiful home here Madam.”
“Oh, please, call me Madelyn, et dis is my ‘ome, Le Chateau Cheval Blanc.” She turned on her heel and led him from the parlor to her study. “I ‘ope my doorman greeted jou properly.”
“Yes, yes indeed.” David was hoping to get past all the small talk and to his insurance update for the young Madelyn Cochette quickly in order to get back home to his wife. He had to be frank with himself; he didn’t trust himself around her.
“Can I get jou zomeding to drink David?” Her emerald green eyes seemed to be drawing him in.
David tried to speak, but it came out in a squeak. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “No, I’m quite alright, thank you.”
“Ef jou insist. Now, David, tell me about ze accountz.” The small talk was over it seemed.
David rushed to get through his prepared speech. Madelyn was a good listener and always remembered what he told her. As she questioned him about each detail, he darted glances all over the room, and wondered if he was being recorded.
“David, did jou ‘ere me?”
He snapped out of his thinking trance. “Er, no, I’m sorry.”
“Do jou ‘ave oder dingz on jour mind? We can discuzz dis at anoder time, perhaps?” Her response startled him.
“No, Mrs. Cochette—Madelyn, I mean. This is fine.”
“Are jou zure? I don vant to ve keeping jou vrom someding.”
“No, no, I’m sure I will be fine.” David desperately lied. He had to get out of her house. She was oh so enticing and he didn’t want to cross the client / personal boundary line with such a woman as Madelyn. She was smart, witty, but also destructive – and David didn’t feel like being on her wrong side today.
“Shall ve talk about zomeding else, David? Vat jear vere jou born?” Caught off guard, David stammered for an answer. “Vat jear David?” She commanded.
“Uh…er… 1947.” He finally managed to spit out. What was it about her that made him squirm so?
“Very good David, zuch a great jear 1947 vas.” She smiled to herself and he wondered what she was talking about.
“I guess so, I mean, I wouldn’t really know, you know?”
“Oh David! Ef only jou could ‘ave been dere. Such vundervul musique et danzing. Et vas tres magnifique!”
David wondered what she was talking about. The young Madelyn couldn’t be any older than twenty five and it was 2010 for Christ’s sake.
“Well, I had best be going.” David tried to make a move towards the door, his attempt to hide his discomfort failed.
“No, no, no, David, jou must ztay, I enzist! Ve ztill ‘ave much to talk about.” Her smile had a mischievous tint to it.
“But I think-”
“No, David, do not dink about anyding.” He stood stiffly as she approached and put her hands around his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as she leaned in close and lightly planted two kisses, one on each cheek. Her lips lingered near his ear after the second kiss, “Jour blood David, it zmellz like an old bottle ov vine.”
Before David could think to push her away and make for the door, Madelyn’s deadly fangs sank into his jugular.
David’s last thought as his blood ran dry was: Is this dream a fantasy or a nightmare?