Project: A Six Sentence Story

Christine never expected to meet anyone while sitting alone, sipping her coffee, at the lunch counter at the drug store near her office, let alone someone as handsome and dashing as Clark, and she certainly never expected their relationship to progress at such a rapid pace; within only a few weeks, they had gone from eating lunch together, sitting at the very lunch counter where they met, to having elegant dinners at some of the finest restaurants in the city, and each time Christine stole a look at him as they dined, she noticed how his dark hair curled just a little where it touched his collar (something she found very endearing) and watched his finely boned hands as he delicately and precisely cut his steak, and she marveled that he wanted to be with her, ordinary Christine, the girl who moved to the city alone mere months before.

They had just finished having dinner at the Starlight Room, with its red leather booths and discreet wait staff, when he took her hand across the table, stroking it lightly with his thumb as he said, "I bought a new piece of art, a small sculpture, that was delivered today, and I would be so pleased to show it to you, if you would agree to stop by my home with me before I see you to yours." 

"Yes," she whispered, and Clark ushered her out of the restaurant and into a cab, pulling up a few moments later in front of a large apartment building with a liveried doorman who greeted them with a solemn nod. Once inside his apartment, Christine tried not to show how impressed she was with its opulence as he led her into the drawing room and stopped in front of the new sculpture; she admired the piece, hoping she was making the right sort of comments, as she really knew nothing about such things, when she noticed a door with a heavy lock on it that was tucked away beside the bookcase, nearly hidden from view.

He followed her eyes to the door, smiling a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he said hoarsely, "That's my project room," and a flicker in his dark eyes, the twitching of a muscle in his cheek, and the barely visible beads of sweat forming on his upper lip as he firmly pulled her to him gripped her with fear. "What have I done?" she thought to herself just before he slipped a cloth over her nose and mouth, and she caught only a glimpse of the evil deep in his soul as she slipped away into oblivion to the sound of a key turning in a lock.

Linking up with Ivy at Uncharted for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "project."