She had somewhere around five seconds to race down the hall and cancel the entire night. Now it was three, two...
Leaving was a choice she didn't take. The door creaked open with a typical, overused apartment door squeak and revealed Edward Blake. It was like a portal to a nightmarish, romantic memory lane and the light from the hallway flooded into Eddie's dimly lit living room. It was a clean, spacious area, fit him well. For a moment, the two heroes stared as if neither of them knew how to talk. Sally's bright red lips tightened into a modest line, though they wanted to snap apart and gasp. Her heart thrummed with an abstemious violence within her chest as she looked over the man she once feared and still desired. No matter how many times she had imagined his face in the elevator, and traced over his features mentally, standing here now, her knees wobbled, wanting to buckle with the view of him. Swallowing her grief, Sally grit her teeth and looked to the floor. It was all she could do not to grab the doorjamb and lean against it for support.
Her cheeks felt as though they were burning, and turning a deep shade of red. God help her if they actually were reflecting her risque, expectant thoughts. Eddie, oh god.
Despite words being useful for an explanation, Sally couldn't speak. Eddie may have been able to, but he chose not to. His brain was talking loud enough though. As his eyes scanned over every inch of Sal's body, his throat got hot and the muscles in his legs tensed. Even after all these years, she still gave him an unbearable fever. Sliding his tongue around in his mouth, Eddie finally finished with Sally's face. Her eyes were down, staring intently at something on the floor, but her cheeks were a delicate pink color.
Fever! In the morning... fever all through the night.
"Couldn't stay away, could you?"
Sally looked up, her nervous, dark eyes sparkling. Parting her lips to reprimand Eddie for being so confident, she was interrupted by another complex occupant, who walked by, muttering drunk nonsense, and stumbling into the walls as she shuffled down the hall. Internally, Sally was thankful for the distraction. Oh, this is silly. You're acting like a child. "Oh, Eddie..."
Eddie stepped aside and slipped his hand around Sally's waist, pulling her inside as though saving her from a angry mob of people. The slight gesture sent chills down her spine. "I guess for once, I really couldn't." The words would go semi-unnoticed as Eddie slid his hands along Sally's curves, chuckling to himself.
"All these years, Sal, and you haven't changed. Still as..." Sally pressed a finger into Eddie's mouth, cutting him off. "Funny you say that, that's not what my fans - if I can even call them that now..." The tone in her voice was suddenly hurt, and unsure. She sniffed and raised her eyes upward. "That's not what people think anymore." Without another word and without looking at Eddie's expression, Sally reached in between her breasts and pulled out the letter. The paper was still warm as she handed it to him. In an hour and fifteen minutes, both of them would forget the letter was even there. Sally especially wouldn't remember it until Eddie let her go.
"Jesus Christ, Sal. C'mon, look at you. This whackjob doesn't know a damn thing."
Sally looked away. "I pushed my image too long, Eddie. I did. I thought life was just... grand and bright with all those photo shoots and interviews, but it backfired on me. I should have listened to Lawrence."
Eddie barked out a laugh and threw the letter on the table, letting it flutter to its resting place next to a dirty magazine that had been looked at one too many times. "You want a drink, Sal?"
She nodded her head once, not really thinking what he was asking, or more so - what the consequences would be. Eddie was a heavy drinker, and his drinks reflected that. Every drink they'd had together...
"Good god, Eddie. Strong enough for you?" Sally pressed her palm to her chest, her throat stinging with the aftertaste of the drink. Eddie laughed and took a sip of his own cautiously. "Fuck no." He decided, throwing the drink back towards the bartender, flashing him a demanding glare.
That night had led to many things, one being a fun-filled drink-off. Silhouette had joined, and left when her girlfriend walked in the door, crying about something. Eddie nor Sally paid attention and kept downing the shots until Sally slumped over in her seat, clutching an empty shot glass. He won, but didn't admit his victory until the next morning when Sally woke up in his bed.
Sally looked around his living room casually, pretending that her mind wasn't really with thoughts of all their previous encounters and desiring more to add to the book. Her memory was stopped short when she saw a piece of artwork featuring her in costume. The glass was clean and polished, and if Sally stood in front, she was sure she'd be able to see her reflection in it. Her heart fluttered excitedly at the thought that Eddie had a picture of her in his own home, and probably thought of her every time he looked at it. Maybe even longed for her again. Quietly, not wanting to alert Eddie of her action, she tried to reenact that pose. She pulled off her glove slightly, and positioned her legs so they looked as if she was sitting on the edge of a stool, begging for a hand to slide up her silken legs. Her face morphed into the innocent, taunting expression that stared back at her from behind the clear glass.
Glasses clinked on a marble counter top, and Sally dropped the pose, pivoting her body around to look at Eddie as he slapped the drinks together. It wasn't carelessness that got the drinks done and in Sally's hand so quickly, it was the fact that Eddie had spent so many nights alone, fixing the same poison. It was merely routine, with one more glass. Inclusively, the both of them knew this drink was much more than just a little liquid confidence.