Blind Date

I knocked on Maxine's apartment door at 7:30 sharp, as agreed upon in our email exchange.

Arriving too soon might make her think me too eager. If I were late, she might think I didn't care. I felt our relationship important enough to merit the most fastidious attention to detail. I had waited for ten minutes in the lobby of her apartment building. I busied myself with reading the community bulletin board and smiling at neighbors checking their mail and walking their small dogs. They avoided me as if I made them nervous, and I was glad I had this chance to work off some energy. A poorly lettered sign advertised a "PC Deks 4 Sell." At 7:25 I walked up the stairs to apartment 39, arriving at 7:28, and stood as quietly as possible while I waited for the agreed upon time to arrive.

I knocked twice, short, sharp, precise raps. She opened the door as far as the security chain allowed while my hand waited, poised to deliver the third blow.

"Hello. Thomas?" she said. Her voice wavered, uncertain and nervous as she peered through the tiny entrance.

"Yes, fraulein, and you are Maxine?"

She said, "yes," with a sigh of relief. "You didn't tell me you were German."

I offered her the flowers I'd purchased at the grocery store. "I hope my nationality will not be a problem. These are for you."

"Oh! Those are lovely," she said. "Just one second." She closed the door and I heard the security chain slide and fall free, banging and rattling against the door jamb. The door opened all the way, revealing my new best friend in her full glory. "I don't mind your nationality or accent one bit, Thomas. I think it's kind of sexy."

She wore a flower-print mu mu and her hair in curlers, just like in her pictures.

"Thank you for your tolerance, Ma'am. Some say my accent is too sharp, and clipped," I said. "Your pictures don't do you justice, and might I say that mu mu is positively radiant."

She blushed. "Oh, this old thing." She giggled and pressed her palm against the rollers. "Come in, let me put those in some water."

She lit a cigarette and gestured at the only clean spot in the apartment. "Have a seat at the kitchen table, please. Sorry about the mess, I don't have many visitors."

"I don't mind at all," I said. "It looks homey, lived in."

"You're just too sweet," she said.

"Oh, no," I said. "You are the one that is too kind, promising to indulge me in my little fantasy." I took my custom butcher's knife out and laid it on the table. "Are you sure you wish to proceed?"

The color rose to her face, "of course I do, Thomas. I've waited all my life for a chance like this. I don't normally indulge in personals ads, but I am so glad I stumbled across yours. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

"Of course my dear Maxine. Like you, I have waited for this opportunity. Of course, the preparation of the meal is so important. What will we be having for dinner?"

"I have some ideas, but first, I wanna see what I'll be working with." She licked her lips salaciously. "Take off your shirt."

"But of course, ma'am."

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped to the waist. Maxine came to stand behind me and began massaging my shoulders and arms.

"Oh, yes, you are exactly what I've been needing, Thomas. So strong. So muscular." She squeezed and kneaded my muscles like a slab of prime Kobe beef.

"Thank you, Maxine, I work hard to stay in shape for occasions such as this. And the menu?"

"Right, the menu. Well, I hope you like Chinese. I figure we can start with some traditional dim sum, the recipe is similar to chicken feet, actually."

"Ah, yes," I said. "That makes perfect sense, I see."

"And then I figure we'll have some fresh steak. It's always such a treat." Her fingers worked all the tension out of my nervous body as she spoke.

"Oh, yes, steak is lovely, just lovely."

"And if you stay for breakfast," she let the silence stretch into a knowing pause, "I can prepare a hearty roast." Her hands moved down the front of my chest and squeezed my thighs suggestively. "I mean, if you think you'll be up for it."

My body twitched in ecstatic rapture at this woman in her mu mu promising fulfillment of my deepest erotic fantasies. A tear slipped from my eye. "I think I love you, Maxine. It is not often a man such as myself can find a woman who so completely understands him."

"I know, Thomas, and it's rare for a woman like me to find the man she needs. So are you ready?"

"I am ready, Maxine."

"Would you like to make the first cut?"

"I would be honored," I said.

She fetched a wooden cutting board with deep blood groove from the kitchen and set it on the table in front of me. "Is that knife good enough?" she asked.

"Of course it is. Please be ready with the bandages. I do not wish to miss breakfast."

I put my left hand on the cutting board and grabbed the knife with my right. The blade sliced cleanly through the tendons at my wrist, separating the hand in a single smooth motion. Endorphins flooded my system, and the sudden loss of blood pressure pulled me into unconsciousness. I awoke a short time later with a tight tourniquet on my forearm and a pile of gauze and tape on the fresh stub. Maxine sat across the table from me, beaming as if observing her own tiny child sleeping in a crib full of toys.

The smell of frying flesh hung thick in the air.

"That was perfect," I said. "When will the first course be served?"