The first sign that Aunt May was approaching was the roar of her car’s engine. It was a familiar sound and sight. Her pride and joy. A convertible, pink, and that type of American car unique to the mid 20th century. A huge car not meant for the modern city, and worse, a car not meant for the terrible driver she was. She carelessly bumped it up to the sidewalk, knocking over a trash can as she did, then opened the door. The deliveryman that was about to pass her, swerved just in time to not crash into the door, flipped the woman off, then sped off on his bike. Aunt May pushed her sunglasses into her hair, dyed an unnaturally light blonde, took a cigarette from the front pocket of her jean jacket, casually lit it and loudly clicking her heels headed to the terrace where her niece was waiting.

Even though it was a chilly autumn, her niece had decided to sit outside on the terrace. She was reading an article, which, according to the cover page, was about ship building in the late 1600’s. She looked up when one of the pages fluttered away in the breeze, sighed in annoyance then sorted her papers and put them in her bag.

“Aunt May,” she greeted the older woman, who dropped down in the chair across from her.

“Do I have good news for you,” she said, looked around for an ashtray, shrugged and took her niece’s empty coffee cup to put the remains in.

Her niece pushed her reading glasses back up, leaned back and gave her aunt a dubious smile, “You found…”

“A room for you!”

“I have a room,” the girl said. It was true, though her room was little more than that. It was so small that she could go to the bathroom and fry an egg at the same time, then with one step be in her bed.

“A good room, Sarah,” Aunt May responded, getting a door key from the pocket of her jean jacket.

“What’s the rent?”

“One.”

“I can’t afford one thousand a month.”

“Just one.”

“What do you mean just one?”

“One buck. That’s all it costs.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s actually free,” Aunt May said, waving a crisp bill around, trying to get the attention of the waitress, “But for administration purposes she needs a payment.”

“She?”

“Some lady I played mahjong with last week. Cleaned house and she bet a room in the suburbs. She seemed relieved to be rid of it though.”

“So it’s a rat-infested hellhole, or I’m losing some internal organs?”

“Looked like a nice enough place on the pictures, though don’t take my word for it. She said she’d take you to check it out.”

“Aunt May,” Sarah sighed, “How am I going to live in the suburbs? I don’t have a car.”

Aunt May grinned, producing another key from her pockets, “Happy birthday. Maybe now you can actually visit sometimes.”

“You’re giving me your cad...?”

“You wish. You’re getting a neat little only-driven-on-sundays grocery car.”

Sarah glanced at the luxury car, swallowing her regret, then turned her attention back to her aunt.

“So, mahjong’s getting popular huh?”

“Down in Chinatown, sure. Did you see that documentary on gamb…”

Aunt May never finished her sentence, interrupted by a loud engine. The polar opposite of Aunt May’s yacht rushed into the street. A shiny Japanese import, black and sleek. The hunting panther to Aunt May’s sleepy tomcat. It was neatly parked in front of the pink luxury car and a woman got out.

The woman wore her hair down to her shoulder, voluminous curls that spilled down over her expensive Italian suit. The wind tugged at the open purple blazer, briefly showing off the black silk she wore under it. Instead of wearing a tie, she kept the top buttons of her shirt open, though her bosom did not seem to leave her much of a choice in that area.

Sarah followed the woman with some interest, not surprised to find that it was Aunt May’s appointment.

“She the girl, May?” the woman asked. Not waiting for a response, she pushed two delicate fingers under her bra, retrieving a business card and handing it to Sarah.

“Thanks,” Sarah said flatly, “I love strangers’ boob sweat.”

She wiped it on a napkin, then read it.

‘Cristal W O’Leary, Real Estate Agent.’

Oddly, there was no number or address on the card. Just a logo that Sarah couldn’t make sense of. If she looked at it too long, it hurt her eyes.

“So,” Sarah said, putting the card down, “Are you a serial killer or just in the organ trade?”

The woman looked at Sarah over her sunglasses. Just long enough for Sarah to note that her eyes were so dark that they could’ve been black voids, before she pushed it back and bared her wide teeth in a toothy grin.

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“Bit of both, given the chance,” she said airily, “but I’m really just here about the room.”

Sarah couldn’t tell if the woman was sincere, but assumed it was simply a strange sense of humor.

“Normally,” Cristal continued, “I’d introduce myself with a big musical number, but the medium doesn’t really loan itself to that.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Now, do you want to see the room?”

“...I guess.”

“Well, let’s get going then.”

“You can’t just show me some pictures?”

“Nothing like the real thing. You coming, May?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Come on, Sarah was it? I’ll drive you there.”

“But…” Sarah started her protest.

“It’s fine,” Aunt May replied, searching her pocket for another smoke, “I’ll be with you girls when I’ve had a cup of joe.”

“So you’re going to let me get in a car with a stranger.”

“Look,” Aunt May said, holding the unlit cigarette between her lips, “I’ll be right behind you. It’s a ten minute drive, so even if she wanted to harvest your organs, I’ll be there before she gets the chance to do it properly, okay?”

“Not as reassuring as you think.”

“Let’s go,” Cristal said, impatiently tapping her watch, “We’re wasting daylight.”

“Car got lights doesn’t it?” May mumbled, “Wish I could find mine though.”

“You coming?” Cristal asked, clicking her heels back to the car, “If you’re really worried, I’ll give you my phone to call the cops.”

“Well,” Sarah said, collecting her research, “If you sell my organs I don’t have to pay my student loans, so I guess I’m in.”

Cristal showed her pearly whites again, opened the door for Sarah, then rushed to take her place behind the wheel, hitting the horn even as her passenger was getting in.

“Impatient much?”

“Kind of,” Cristal said, leaning forward to put her hands under her shirt. Briefly, Sarah spotted the bottom of a detailed back tattoo and a moment later, the woman pulled her bra from under it.

“Needed the privacy to deal with that,” she said, buttoning up her shirt that suddenly fit perfectly.

Sarah blinked, glanced at the bra discarded to the back seat, then subtly tried to glance at the woman’s chest.

“That’s one amazing push…”

“No time to talk,” Cristal grinned, “Buckle up.”

The woman didn’t bother to put her own seatbelt on, hit the gas without looking, then recklessly swerved into traffic.

The house looked ridiculous, like something you’d see in a cartoon… specifically Scooby Doo.

If houses could have a bad back and aching knees, this house would have complained about it. The ancient Queen Anne style mansion was a HOA’s nightmare, though if there was one they had clearly given up their fight. Now the dark foreboding house found a life as an abstract center piece to their perfectly-clipped lawned, white-fenced, Gray SUV’ed neighborhood.

In the garden of the house house across from it, a kind looking old man watched it liked a hawk. He had been pretending to rake leaves, even though there was not a single one on the grass, and stared at the house when he thought no one was looking.

What the man was looking at, Sarah had no idea. The porch seemed empty, as did the too high lawn. She waved to the man as she got out of the car, got a brief wave back, and followed Cristal up the path.

There was a brief change in the air, momentarily feeling as if she walked into a boiler room, though it was gone a moment later.

“Well,” Cristal started, appearing by her side, “What do you think?”

“It’s... different.”

“So is your roommate.”

“Hey, nobody said anything about…”

Sarah never finished her sentence, distracted by the door opening and a man heading out. He had a swagger in his step, like he had just conquered some mighty obstacle, though his victory lap was cut short when he tripped over his own feet on the way down. The cause of his sudden stumble was a woman calling after him.

“Andy!”

It was a pleasant voice, full of warmth with a soft hint of sugar to it.

The woman it belonged to was tall, towering almost a head over the man. Her slender fingers caught him under the arm, effortlessly stopping him from falling and pulling him back to the top of the stairs. She turned him around and put her toned arms around his waist, lifting him up to her face.

“You need one for the road.”

She mumbled, but Sarah could hear her as if she was whispering in her own ear. Awkwardly she watched as the woman intensely brought her lips to the man’s, leaving him fully on the defensive. The man’s eyes remained wide open. He was unsure what to do with his hands and seemed relieved when the woman let go of him.

The swagger he had had a moment earlier was gone and he seemed to have trouble even remaining on his feet as he stumbled down the stairs.

Cristal elbowed Sarah in the side, “Something for you?”

She pointed to the man’s crotch and said something about his ready equipment, but Sarah never processed what had been said. She was too distracted by the woman that remained on the porch. She was wearing nothing but a silk dressing gown. It hung half open and the black garment hid just enough of the woman’s skin to form a perfect frame to her alabaster skin.

She kept her red hair long on one side, with the other side pinned back behind her ears. Her glasses rested low on her nose, clearly an accessory and not for the woman’s vision. However, what captivated Sarah was not how she looked, but how she looked at her. She looked at Sarah like she was dessert.

The redhead brought her fingers to her lips, then down again, puffing out a cloud of smoke, though there didn’t seem to be a cigarette in her hands. She pushed her glasses back up, then seemed to notice her visitors for the first time.

“Cristal!” she said heartily, “Who’d you bring?”

“Your new roommate!” Cristal said, striding up the path. She embraced the woman, gave her three air kisses, then pulled back.

“You coming, girl? She doesn’t bite.”

“I might,” was the reply, “If she lets me.”

Even though the woman intimidated her with her presence, Sarah couldn’t resist her curiosity to meet this person, that seemed to be made from the finest marble. She started up the stairs and got a whiff of the woman’s perfume. It was a flowery bouquet, lilies, mixed with a subtle hint of aged vanilla, like she had been rummaging among antique books.

She smiled, baring a perfect set of teeth, and stuck out her hand.

“Welcome home then,” she said, “I’m Diana.”