Queen of the Drowned

   It was her lips, Robert had decided, that was her best feature. Lips like big, ripe cherries, naturally red and plump, and kept oh so slightly parted. He could just watch them and it would make him hard.
   "Robert," she repeated.
   "Sorry," said Robert. "What were you saying?"
   Her name was Susan. They just met tonight, in this club, this modern mockery of an old-time inn, complete with faux wood paneling and fake ale stains on the countertop. Robert liked it here. It was cozy and dim. He didn't like big open spaces or bright lights or many people. The deep earthy colors of the place reminded him of the womb.
   "I was saying that I was surprised that someone like you would be in a place like this." Susan said. "Good men are so hard to find."
   Robert checked his watch. It was almost eleven. "Who says I'm a good man?"
   She chuckles. He grins. They lock eyes. Hers were shaped like almonds and were the color of clovers. His were the color of dirty granite. He was not an attractive man. She was a beautiful woman. He was lucky, he thought, to be speaking to such a beautiful girl. What about him was she so fascinated with? He knew why he was attracted to her and it made him salivate with envy and lust. In another life, this meeting would've involved a rag with chloroform or a slip of a pill into her drink....
    "Want to have a night-cap at my place?"
    "Sure."
    He grabbed his coat while she pushed away from the bar. He paid the tab; his and hers. Outside, the city was muted graffiti. Flies gathered, gossiped, and danced under worn streetlamps. The homeless muttered to themselves or fucked on corners. Robert followed her back to her place, a nice little apartment some blocks away. All the while they were silent, but his heart raged. His erection raged. She made no notice, but a smile did curl her lips. The smile made her slightly less attractive, he thought. Ah, well. He'll picture Katy Perry when they screwed.
   She took his hand. They went up stairs. He sat on the couch, remarked about the place. She said "thanks" and scurried off. Robert heard the shower go on. Susan returned, bare, flushed. He got up, she took his hand, taking off his pants and his shirt. Then he was naked. And they got in the shower.
   "Nice shower. Warm," Robert said. "You do this before?"
   "Oh," she turned away a moment, then back, holding the bar of soap in her hands. "You wouldn't believe."
   "Oh?"
   She smacked him on the side of the head and he went crashing down into the porcelain. Blood came out of his head. He swore and blinked. She came back into focus and smacked him again. It wasn't soap in her hands, it was a brick. She hit him again, tossed it aside. Robert struggled as he felt her hands around his neck. She was pushing him under. The water was accumulating. He was drowning.
   He was....