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the devoted young man periodically averted his squinting eyes to appraise the attributes of a shapely, younger bikini-clad blonde some 30 yards further up the beach. |
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Charlie studied the scene for a moment, stretched his aching body and retired to the soft shadows of the living room and Kristen's well-stocked liquor cabinet. He poured a glass half full of grapefruit juice, added a small amount of ice and filled the rest with vodka. The first sip trickled its way down his parched throat and fiendishly curled its way like some evil thing into dark recesses deep inside him. The second followed the first, and there was a new awareness of all the parts of his tortured body. He was on his way back to the balcony when the doorbell rang. |
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He took just enough time to ferret out the robe Kristen had bought him, went to the door and opened it. Staring back at him was the same gaunt old man they had encountered in the restaurant the night before. His appearance hadn't changed; the haunted, empty look of the ages was still mirrored in his eyes. |
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It took Charlie several seconds to regain his equilibrium, then his face flushed with anger. ''Who the hell are you?" he challenged. |
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There was no change in the intruder's expression. It was as if Charlie was looking into a countenance without definition, a mask |
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