lie to yourself, darling. Your body is reaching out to mine even if your mind denies it. You and I were meant to be one. Together we’ll make a fire like you’ve never known. And when we love, the world will burn.”
The music rose to a crescendo and the stage went dark for the final time.
For a long minute, not one person in the audience moved. Sunny sat transformed, stunned. What had happened here? How had the man taken such overwhelming control of his audience? She felt her unused notepad slide from her lap but she hadn’t the strength to retrieve it. Her nerve endings were still tingling, protesting the abatement of the fire that had flamed them.
“What? How?” she finally whispered. “How did he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Walt’s booming voice said as he crouched in the darkness beside her table. “But I wish he’d bottle the stuff. I’d take it home and spoon some into my wife’s cereal.”
Sunny looked at Walt. She shook her head, trying desperately to gather her senses. “Did we get him on tape?”
“No, I didn’t videotape anything.”
“Did they stop you?” Sunny’s voice might be in outer space, but the rest of her was still in a fiery pit. The theater lights came on, softly, maintaining the mood.
“You bet. The minute I hoisted my camera onto my shoulder there was a man beside me, shaking his head. He didn’t say anything but I got the message. From then on, I was just a member of the audience. Never saw anything like it. I feel like I’ve been barbecued. From the inside out. Me—a guy. Don’t you ever tell my wife.”
“He’s using some kind of mass hypnosis,” she said, her voice tight and low. She leaned over to retrieve her pad.
Then she heard him. “Did you like my dancing, darling?”
“What the hell?” she swore.
“Not hell, darling, heaven,” Lord Sin whispered.
“A microphone,” Sunny said. “You put a microphone in the candle holder.” She stared at the device on the table. “When my boss, Ted Fields, sent me over here, he said you spoke directly to the women in your audience. I didn’t believe him.”
“Not to all of them. Tonight, I spoke only to you.”
Walt groaned. “The boss was right. The man’s a hypnotist. He’s got you talking to a candle. And heaven help us all, the candle’s talking back.”
“Shush!” Sunny said, her finger against her lips.
“Not women,” Sin corrected. “Couldn’t you tell? Tonight my performance was just for you.”
Sunny shook her head vigorously. Maybe she was kidding herself but she had the intoxicating impression that he was still as aroused as she. Was that the secret of his success, making every woman feel as if she were totally desirable? Pulling on every ounce of her professional control, she marshaled her thoughts and switched into reporter mode. “Thank you for the special attention, Lord Sin. But if you believe you were arousing me,” she added more bravely than she felt, “you’re out of your mind.”
“Oh?” He didn’t try to conceal the amusement in his raw-silk voice. “I don’t think so. I watched you. I know what I feel. Don’t pretend I didn’t get to you.”
Sunny swallowed hard. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not easily—seduced—by a voice. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Sorry, my love, that’s impossible. Didn’t you hear? This is Lord Sin’s last performance.”
“But I have it straight from your own lips.” She was thinking desperately. “Lord Sin promised me that he’d make love to me soon. What’s the matter? Aren’t you up to seducing a real woman? Or do you just talk out of your candle?”
He laughed, his deep voice soft and hoarse. “Oh, I’m up to it, all right. I’ll even admit it, you aroused me, too. It’s been years since a woman has had that effect on me on stage. Why do you think I didn’t strip to my G-string like I usually do?”
That thought almost did her in. “Considering the fact that whatever it was you were wearing was like wearing nothing at all, I hadn’t thought about your G-string one way or the other.”
“But you will, my beauty. You will. And if you really want me…I suppose we might meet again before I disappear forever. I’ve never indulged myself. For once, I just might.”
“When?”
But the voice was gone. And she hadn’t pinned him down for an interview. Her big chance and she’d failed and it was her own fault. Where had her mind been? Drowning in the physical sensation he’d created, that’s where. The scoundrel was everything they’d said he was. But who was he?
Sunny came to her feet. “Get to the front door, Walt. If Lord Sin comes that way, video him, his car—whatever.”
“Where are you going?”
“To his dressing room. Please, we have to hurry!”
“You got it,” Walt said, muttering as he left. “Wish I’d brought my wife. She’ll never believe what I saw.”
But a quick trip to his dressing room confirmed to Sunny that it was empty. Not even his costume remained. Sunny was beginning to wonder if Lord Sin was real.
“MAY I HELP YOU?”
Sunny turned to face the same woman who’d delivered her seat of honor ticket. “I was looking for Lord Sin.”
“I’m sorry, Miss…”
“Clary,” Sunny said. “Sara Frances Clary. But everyone calls me Sunny.”
“…Clary, but he’s already left the building.”
“I don’t understand how I missed him, Miss…?”
“Lamour. Lottie Lamour,” the gray-haired woman answered pleasantly.
“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to—to make an appointment for tomorrow,” Sunny said dejectedly.
“I’m very sorry but that won’t be possible,” Lottie said and turned to walk away.
“Just a minute,” Sunny said, “you don’t understand. This is my first assignment. Lord Sin donated this building to the Arts Council and I’m covering the fund-raiser for WTRU.”
Lottie kept walking, drawing Sunny away from the dressing rooms. “And I’m certain you’ll cover it very well.”
“But surely Lord Sin would want to be given credit for this wonderful evening.”
Lottie stopped and turned back to face her. “Of course, my dear. And you’ll do that, won’t you?”
“I need to talk with him,” Sunny insisted. “Every reporter gives his subject a chance to respond.”
“But Lord Sin isn’t your subject,”
