Mind Games

"Wait here." She stood up from the leather couch in a single, sinuous motion. Abel watched the shot appreciatively as she sashayed to the wet bar. Glass and ice clinked, and various liquids sloshed.

"One of these," she said, holding up the two glasses, "is poisoned. Choose."

Abel smiled and pointed. She handed it over. "You're dangerous, eh? I like it." He took a sip, and his lips went numb.

"You chose wrong." Her smiled widened to a grin.

He coughed and tried to speak.

"Where would the fun be," she whispered in his ear, "if it weren't real sometimes?"