Rotten Cherries (IP)

They took off their shoes as he insisted and he led her inside; his hand was cool and soft. Her heart pounded but she smiled serenely as he chatted to her about something in his garden. She was finding it hard to pay attention- there was something making her feel uneasy but she was unable to pinpoint it.
She glanced around the room; red walls, dark furniture- oppressive.
Would you like a drink? he asked
Yes- some wine if that's possible?
Whilst he was gone she studied her nails. Her polish was chipped. Not a good impression. She didn't want to look cheap. Clearly he had money. She wanted to give out the right signals. Willing but slightly aloof. Intriguing.
He returned, handed her a glass of red wine. She sipped it. It was sharp, unpleasant and she narrowly avoided spitting it out.
He watched her face. She avoided his eyes. She cleared her throat, tried to shift the horrible after taste.
Is there something wrong? he asked
No, no- not at all. She composed herself. Why don't you show me around?
Into the dining room. Eclectic style, heavy curtains. She winced as she stubbed her bare toe on the table leg. Fuck that hurt. He hadn't noticed.
He was discussing the artwork framed on his walls. Women, nudes, demons. She stifled a giggle. This was somehow becoming absurd. He turned to face her and she grinned at him brightly. His mouth was rubbery and suddenly repulsive. The potential money was no longer appealing. She longed to reach into her bag, grab her mobile and call a taxi. Be polite, she told herself, just carry on a bit longer, then make your excuses and leave.
The kitchen, he was saying, is my pride and joy.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.
Come and see, he whispered.
Was there something menacing in his tone or was she starting to imagine things? Her body felt heavy and her head was spinning.
She had to lean against him as they walked into the kitchen. Lots of marble. A large table. He pushed her onto a chair and sat opposite her.
You should be starting to feel the effects now, he said conversationally.
She swallowed, her heartbeat was out of control. Drugs, poison, Something. He'd done something. The horror of it snaked itself around her, suffocating her.
Soon you will be my little plaything, he joked.
Her mother had always warned her of the dangers of the world, but she never thought it could have happened like this. A dinner date. A friend of a friend.
He stood up and hugged her to him. She could smell his shirt was sweaty and gagged. He pulled away, angry.
You stupid bitch, he muttered.
She was losing consciousness. Through the fog she saw the bowl on the table. How had she missed that? A bowl full of rotten cherries. They glittered dangerously. He laughed and smacked her to the ground.