“What do you plan to do with that little .22 pop gun?” the black bearded man in the tuxedo asks as he takes a step closer to Sunni De La Croix.
“Take another step closer and you’ll find out.” Sunni aims her small .22 caliber pistol at his heart.
“You’d better be accurate with that thing or you’re liable to just make me mad.”
“If you’re willing to test my marksmanship, take that next step.”
The corners of the broad shouldered, handsome man’s lips turn up slightly as he slowly raises his hands and slides his front foot backwards parallel to his other.
“You were willing to send me to Hell, I guess, then.”
“Heaven or Hell, that’s between you and God, but you came within one step of finding out.”
The young, blonde debutant keeps her sparkling blue eyes and pistol fixed on Mark Masters. She waves her free hand toward a large leather high back chair in the library of her family’s mansion without disturbing the point of the gun barrel fixed on his heart.
“That’s very polite of you, Sunni,” Mark eases slowly and carefully toward the chair.
Mark’s eyes watch as the gun barrel seems to be mysteriously and amazingly fixed on his chest all the way to the chair.
“What are you doing in the library? Don’t try to tell me you were lost,” Sunni doesn’t move.
“I assure you that the reason doesn’t call for the need of a gun.”
“I’ll decide that when I hear the reason.”
Mark slowly raises his left arm without taking his eyes off the barrel of the gun. He cautiously points in the direction of the bookshelf.
“I was in here to take a look at the book selections.”
“Did you have a certain book in mind?”
“No, … I mean, yes, … well, sort of,” for the first time, Mark shows signs of fear.
“I’m glad you made that so perfectly clear. You need practice on making up a good alibi.”
“Alibi? Pistol? As far as I know Sunni, this is a library. You’re acting like these books need protection.”
“Look, Mark, this is my house. There’s a party which you are obviously dressed for on the other end of this large home. What are you doing in the library?” Sunni’s voice crescendos a decibel with each word.
“What are you protecting that your afraid I’m going to harm in here?”
Sunni lowers her gun as she ponders how to answer his question and not reveal her purpose. When Mark sees the gun barrel drop, he starts to get up.
“Sit back down and answer my question.”
The gun barrel raises and Mark falls with in the chair disgusted.
“I came of course to get a book.”
“There’s a party going on way over there,” Sunni unconsciously points to the other end of the mansion with the gun.
Mark starts to get up out of the chair. Sunni drops the barrel of the gun back down toward Mark. He falls back, again, slapping the arm of the chair.
“I’m not much of a party-goer. I love books,” With this confession. Mark almost wishes Sunni will shoot him.
“Why did you come to a party if you didn’t plan to party?” Sunni steadily fixes the gun on Mark’s chest.
“Isn’t that what we aristocrats are supposed to do?” Mark throws up his hands and crosses his legs.
“The library is closed. Go back to the party. Go home. Take a stroll around the garden. I don’t care as long as you’re not here.”
Mark uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him.
“You didn’t need a gun to tell me that. Yet, you had one. Who or what were you expecting?”
“Nowadays a girl cannot be too careful, especially alone in the dark.”
Mark stands to his feet and starts to turn and leave, “So, do you always carry a pistol to every party?”
Sunni points the gun just over Mark’s shoulder towards the party and then back on his chest.
“Since the library is closed, shouldn’t you be coming with me?”
Sunni slowly pulls the hammer of the small weapon back.
Mark leaves, but he is not convinced this is about protecting this Texas lady’s honor and reputation.
I write about what I'm thinking or what I've imagined in an effort to regain that childhood imagination and marry with my many years of real experiences. I'm getting better at it the more I write.I am a published author of two romantic intrigue novels.My books can be found at Amazon.com or if you want a personalized copy, by emailing me at firstname.lastname@example.org.