SEDUCTRESS
A sci-fi short/flash fiction dealing with loneliness
The sun waned; its rays filtered through the transom window, casting an orange pall over the seated patrons. It gave a warm touch to the bar where Vinny Colletto sat in a heavy overcoat stirring a cocktail straw through the rocks in his glass. He lifted a brow toward the holo drifting above the middle of the bar. The glassware glimmered with the recursive patterns of the gameplay. His team even gained a point. Some good news for once.
His growing loneliness had dragged him through the late-autumn streets crammed with flanks of clashing nationalities, past the tri-d advertisements taking up space along the ped-walks, all the way to the stool on which he flopped, propping his feet over the foot rail, and burying his debts in a few pints of sedative fluids. The higher the proof, the better.
He shook his glass, rattling the ice cubes within before swilling the last drop of Kentucky straight. Raising a finger, he availed himself of his open tab.
The glow from outside brightened. Strange, he thought, when the evening beaconed. Slapping his glass down, he turned toward the aisle. To his surprise, a plume of smoke billowed from the aisle and spread to the far walls.
Who put out the fog machine? He thought. A musician? Entertainer?
Maybe it was a fire. He was too sauced to care.
A striking silhouette phased through the roiling mist. Vinny perked, aroused from his stupor.
The mist dissolved into curling filaments, revealing an hour-glassed figure staring right into his bloodshot eyes. He didn’t know what to think; his impulses had taken over. She was drop-dead gorgeous; her eyes could bait the stubbornest prude, and that scarlet blouse of hers could melt the hearts of the most hardened ascetic.
Locking eyes as sharp as knives, she closed in. He did nothing but stare in disbelief. She was the bomb…and he was ground zero. Why him? Was this God’s grace for his messy divorce that left him in financial limbo?
She stopped. He craned his head toward her looming figure. The embossment on the ceiling mosaic caught the last glare of sunlight before evening’s call, blessing her with an aura straight out of Heaven.
She swiveled. Before he knew it, she was on his lap.
His vigorous double-take might have been a turn-off with the extra chins and jowls jostling around before settling into his look of shock. Yet his reaction did nothing of the sort. Her eyes remained locked.
Her hand crept toward his half-bedraggled face. Something smooth massaged his chin. At least, that was the feeling he got.
Hummina! Hummina! Hummina!
He lost what remained of his faculties. It had to have been a dream. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Better yet, what was he doing that he had been chosen among the many dignified courtees straddling the counter?
She rubbed his shoulders, batting her lashes. He was mesmerized. Time froze; the moment suspended in permanent replay.
Her lips parted. His eyes flared. A voice emerged.
I’m yours.
Did anyone else hear that? What a lovely voice! The tone resonated like a bell, catalyzing his synapses into machine-gunning all his serotonin.
A strange sense of privacy fell over him, despite his public exposure. He glanced from side to side, peeking around the bar. The throng of patrons continued in their affairs, oblivious to the commotion within his corner.
Where do you live? She curled her finger and flicked his chin.
Vinny stammered, his eyes still pried open from shock. “D…d…d…down the block.” It was further than that. It took him the better part of thirty minutes to traverse the bustling streets, but that was of no consequence.
Two stalls down, someone turned their head. Finally, he thought, someone acknowledged his extraneous circumstance. Maybe his own obnoxious tone aroused suspicion. But he fobbed it off. He was entranced.
I know what you’re going through. That piqued his attention. Life is hard, but I can heal every wound of yours… She rubbed his portly cheek, drawing closer…and closer.
He felt like a balloon popped inside him. His ego deflated, his pulse mellowed, what remained of his anxiety faded, and he fully surrendered. He shut his eyes. The rest was left to mystery.
His eyes flung back open. The only thing in front of him was another round of straight. He swiveled his head, vainly searching for her whereabouts.
“New here?” The bartender, cured and toughened with age, nodded while scrubbing the inside of a glass.
“Wha…?” He shook himself to.
“The dame.”
“Oh… W—w—wait… W—what happened? Where did she go?”
The bartender hawed. “You know she weren’t real. Just a machine.”
“Huh?” Vinny drowned in confusion.
“A hologram. The system here picks a rando like yerself, does a lit’l searchin’, then tailors it t’ you fancy. Nifty, eh?” He plopped the glass down and picked up another.
“You mean…”
“Yeah, chum. Scans yer profile, yer recent life…all that. Felt real, right? Th’ ‘puter sends pulses to yer brain. Make y’ ‘sperience sensations that ain’t there: changes in weight, th’ touch of a dainty finger. It’s a hit, I tell ya!”
The clamor of customers suddenly shut. Vinny remained in his bubble, hiding his embarrassment, as well as his sense of defeat. He was no longer shocked by the insults this crazy world continued to hurl at him like a hail of bullets. But it didn’t cure his loneliness either.
Resignedly, he downed his final drink.
How much time had passed? He wondered, and looked out the window.
The orange dome vanished. Instead, vendor logos glared from a sea of blackness. Closing his account, he stood up and stared into the neon void. It was going to be a long walk home.
Special thanks to for edits and suggestions.
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