“You smell like you took a bath in whiskey.”

Josie wrinkled her nose.  Her words fell upon the shaded figure slumped against her doorway, silhouetted by a gas lamp across the street.  It was a familiar form; Josie couldn’t exactly remember the last time it had occupied the space.  

“It’s scotch, Josephine.”  
      
     The sentence bubbled out of the shadowed man.  He remained glued to the wooden frame, and Josie pondered closing the door on both him, and the night.  Eventually, the man straightened himself, and brushed off the wrinkled grey suit that hung loosely about him.  He performed a clumsy half-bow and stumbled past Josie into the living room, where he unfurled on the couch.  Josie grabbed some matches and lit the candles above the fireplace to mask the smell of liquor that had begun to fill the room.  

        “I have to ask, what brings you here?”  Josie said dryly, keeping a hand on the mantle, as she turned to face the undesired guest.  The silent void that followed her words was lifted by the man chuckling and sitting upright, bent forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Well, I was in the area, and to be truthfully honest the night’s growing old and I haven't had nearly enough to drink.  Unfortunately, as it were, I seemed to have spent the last of my coin.”

She waited for the man to continue, but he just stared sheepishly at her; She was not fully convinced that she wasn’t still asleep in her room upstairs.

“You picked the wrong home to come to.”

Josie muttered coldly and a small shudder coursed through her abdomen.  She wrapped her arms across her breast, and realized she was still in her silk nightgown.

“It was worth a shot.  Good ****.”

     The man grinned as he acquiesced her words, flashing ivory teeth which contrasted with the dark stubble of his beard.  He ran his hands through his slicked back hair before he locked them behind his head, then gave Josie a quick scan that made her shiver again.  

“So how’ve you been livin’ Josie?  It’s been quite some time.”  The man crooned.

Josie rotated so she wouldn’t have to look at him.  She wished she hadn’t answered the knock on her door.  

“I’ve been living.”  

She attempted to mask the strain it put on her to say the words.  

Josie stood there, holding herself, when a hand gripped her upper arm—she hadn’t heard him move from the couch.  The man whirled her around and grasped both arms tightly.  Josie tried to twist free but it felt as if she was held by two iron vises.  

He bent downwards and shoved his lips onto hers; the taste compared to taking a swig from a bottle and almost triggered Josie to gag. She didn’t have a perception of how much time passed before she was able to breathe again.

“Just like old times, huh Josi—”

She left a red imprint of her palm on his right cheek; the man stumbled backwards with his face held in his hands.  It was etched with confusion mixed with disbelief.

“Leave.”

It was an order.  Josie numbly walked over to the door and opened it in silence.  The man paused and seemed to contemplate whether or not he would obey the directive, then dropped his hands to his sides and trudged across the cream colored carpet. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor as he passed through the open frame with clenched fists hidden in his pockets.

Josie made to close the door, but was halted by a sudden urge.  She ran to her purse and fumbled inside, then withdrew her hand holding a small drawstring bag of change.  Josie stepped into the flickering spotlight of the gas-lamp and heaved the coins at the man; she aimed for the small of his back.  

“Buy yourself something better tasting next time.”  Josie hollered, then crept inside and shut the door.