56 Abitor (1/2)

After several interruptions, they reached the end of the long counter. Sam's companion caring helped her on the bar stool.

”What do you want to drink?”

”What do you drink here?” Mephisto snapped his fingers and immediately approached a half-naked devil. Sam saw that the bartenders wore white loincloths that glowed bright white, almost bluish, in the black light. Mephisto held two fingers in the air. The devil nodded and left.

”What did you order?” Because the music was pretty loud, Jonathan leaned Taylor or Mephisto, or whatever his name was, close to Sam's ear. He brushed her hair back. His lips touched Sam's skin as he spoke. It tickled, but Sam did not back off.

”Blood and sperm” Sam grimaced.

”That's a joke?”

”No, both are donors of life.”

When he saw Sam's scared eyes, his full, well-sounding laugh sounded again. Sam thought he saw almost all conversations cease and the guests looked in his direction. There was a yearning and submission in everyone's eyes; The man had an insane presence. Sam was curious how the leader would act on her. The devil appeared with the drinks. He put two whisky glasses full of red liquid in front of her, in which sluggish white threads floated.

”In your well, Atibor.” The devil bowed deeply. Sam's companion just returned the greeting. Sam struggled for composure. Atibor. What kind of lucky child was she? Brutus would have been proud of her, nothing in her face indicated her surprise. Of course, behave yourself, Sam thought. ”Atibor? Mephisto, how shall I call you?” Sam looked at him with an innocent expression. He raised his glass. ”Names are sonic and smoke-only glorious deeds will be remembered.” He looked questioningly at Sam's glass

”What's in there?” ”Tomato juice, vodka, batida and a shot aphrodisiac.” Sam lifted the glass to his lips. ”Well then.” ”In one go.” He threw down the drink. Sam held his breath and did the same. The juice ran down her throat, oily. Sam coughed.

”God, is that sharp.”

”You spilled a drop there.”

He leaned forward and ran his tongue over Sam's mouth.

”Is that the effect of the aphrodisiac?”

”Well, ...” he snapped his fingers again and held out two of them to the bartender. In seconds, two filled glasses stood on the counter. ”... you have to turn some drinks on ex, so that the effect is set.” Again they threw down their drinks. Sam felt her head becoming light and weightless. What the hell was in there, that feeling could not come from alcohol. Again the flicking of his fingers.

”If that keeps going at a tempo, I'll fall off the stool right away.” Atibor studied her in mock concern. ”We have to do something about that.” He put an arm around Sam's waist and pulled her from the bar stool into his arms. He pressed her tightly against his body.

”Better?” Sam held two fingers in the direction of the bartender.

”Tequila, two bottles.” The bartender looked questioningly at Atibor. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. Sam hoped her trickiness was not easy to see through. The likelihood that the closed bottles were prepared with drugs, she estimated as extremely low. The strange feeling in her head subsided. Maybe the dosage in the drinks was low. He looked at Sam with narrowed eyes.

”Will that be a drinking duel?”

Sam pulled out of his grip and grabbed the bottle of tequila peppy on the neck. Satisfied, she saw that the lock was intact. Sam held the opened bottle to his mouth and took a long sip. God, that was disgusting. She eyed Atibor provocatively.

”Do you accept the challenge?”

Another huge gulp from the bottle. The alcohol pulled burning tracks through Sam's guts. Disgusting, Sam wanted to shake himself. Atibor thankfully refused the offered bottle.

”I am not a friend of Tequila.”

”A pity, too.” Sam held the bottle back to his lips and pretended to take another sip of tequila. Atibor eyed her doubtfully.

”How long do you want to go through this without becoming unconscious?”

”Oh, I'm pretty good at training.” Another sip.

”Tell me something about your life.”

”What do you want to know?” Sam purposely spoke the L's with a heavy tongue.

Atibor shrugged. ”That which seems important to you.” Sam sat awkwardly and cumbersome on the bar stool, making sure to spread a portion of the bottle contents on the floor. She giggled stupidly. ”Oops” She began to tell Atibor about her constructed life. Daughter of wealthy parents, aimless and bored, always on the lookout for the special kick. She was careful to give a credible account of the role of the increasingly drunk woman. Slowly, Sam had to consider something about the tequila. The strange feeling in her head was gone and she actually drank only every third sip.

But she feared that the slow-falling level in her bottle would eventually grab Atibor's attention, or she would shoot herself unconscious with that stuff. And again, she could not bring the burial number. Atibor asked questions about their interests, preferences and above all in-depth questions about their financial circumstances. He was extremely skilled. He was a pleasant conversation partner, cultivated and a master of the spoken word.

But Sam also found her role getting better and better. Atibor had just asked her a question about her Porsche as Sam slid off the bar stool.