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Bellman later, on the first floor, I retrieved my mail from the slender slot on the wall with my name on it. ‘Good afternoon Mrs. Bellman,’ I greeted politely, mail in hand, attempting to pass her in the narrow hall. ‘Robert, are you sleeping well?’ She inquired, in the formal, call-you-by-your proper-first-name way that old ladies do, striking me uncomfortable. ‘Uh…yeah,’ I stammered, ‘sure, and yourself?’ ‘Oh…fine Robert…thanks for asking,’ she waved at me, sounding somehow ingenuine. Was she mocking me? Or, perhaps I was still jumpy, due to my recent nocturnal experiences. Either way, it made no difference because by the time she was back in her apartment, I was already gone, rushing up the stairs to my own. Something about that old woman just made me want to bolt. The following night, I stripped and climbed into bed with a nervous eye on the dresser. I was being silly of course, I told myself switching off the light, it had been no more than a bad dream, probably brought. I felt very comfortable and looked about her beautifully furnished flat. Besides the native pieces, Cecilia had acquired religious shrines; candles and even a small alter. The small room was filled with bookcases, and very old, dusty looking leather bound volumes of works in Latin and Greek. When Cecilia returned with our drinks I noticed that her eyes seemed brighter than normal, like the glowing eyes of a wild beast at night. It is difficult to describe just how intense and luminescent her eyes were shining. I felt mesmerised and drawn to her. I couldn’t move my eyes from hers. When she spoke I felt close to her, the feeling I can only describe as the feeling I had as a child with my mother, safe, warm and secure. Mixed up with those feelings was a tremendous sexual urge. The more she looked into my eyes the more I wanted to pull her close to me, touch her and kiss her. I felt curiously ashamed of these odd mixtures of thoughts racing through my mind as we sat talking. Cecilia.
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