She looked at him.
"You ought not be," he said. "I'm not that bad, I hope." He wrapped his hand more firmly around hers, and pulled her away from the door. "C'mon. New adventure."
He took her through a few narrow halls and into a room that was filled with trunks, suitcases, and duffel bags. "Dressing room," he said, gesturing towards one of many full-length mirrors. "Exotic, huh?"
She looked around, studying the strange room. He watched her in fascination as he sat down on an old over-stuffed couch. "You don't say much, do you?"
She shrugged. "What's there to say?"
"Lots. Where are you from? What do you do? Who are your friends?"
Her dark eyes met his bright ones. "You want to know about me?"
"Sure. What's your life like?"
"I've never been asked that before."
"Answer it anyhow."
She shrugged. "I grew up in New York, back in the states. My mother worked for a janitorial service who did the cleaning at the New York Jets Amphitheater for a long time. But the whole service got a transfer here a few months ago for higher wages, and she's here working in Austria until the crew gets leased out to some other place for higher pay. I go to a private school."
"A national school?"
"Yeah," she replied.
"I've been to one of those," he said. "It sucked."
Teresa smiled. "It's really good. I take all sorts of classes. It'll look good on a college application…"
"A-ha, we get to the heart of things," Taylor said, leaning towards her with interest. "So you're one of those little studious, bitches, eh?"
Her smile dissipated. "I guess so."
"You like schoolwork?"
"Not particularly," she replied. He stood up and began to walk from one corner of the room to another.
"No? Do you like teachers?"
"They've never posed a threat to me," she replied awkwardly, noting the light shining in his eyes.
"That's not what I asked. Do you like them?"
"No, not real-"
"Do you have a lot of friends?" he asked.
She looked at him, then slowly shook her head, 'no.' He was beginning to scare her, but she didn't want him to know. Taylor stopped pacing, and looked at her with strange blue eyes. "You don't?"
"Not really," she said softly.
"Do you go out much?" he asked, stepping closer to her.
"No," she replied.
"So you haven't been out and seen the sights?" he asked, moving again closer.
She shrank back into the couch as he moved closer and closer to her, shaking her head 'no.'
"You haven't seen the beauty of Vienna?" he asked, suddenly leaning down in her face. They were nose to nose.
She shook her head furiously, 'no'. His smile turned into a seductive pout. "You haven't?"
She shook her head again. "I'm sorry then."
He stood up, and jerked away, allowing her to breathe again. "Well, then, Miss Wilcombe - have I mentioned how much I like that last name? - we'll just have to remedy that." He flashed her another smile. "How would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?"
"I-" she stammered, feeling lightheaded.
"There isn't any school the morning after tomorrow night, is there?" he asked.
"No," she murmured.
"Well, then what's your excuse?"
"I barely know you."
He looked at her quizzically, then burst out laughing a big booming laugh that filled the small dressing room. He threw his hands out elaborately and began to walk back and forth across the room, as if he were making a speech. "Know me? Miss Wilcombe, please. Everyone knows me. Your mother will like me, Teresa. I'm young, I'm well off, I'm well-behaved around adults, I have a lot to offer her daughter. There will be no problems with this."
He paused to look at her. "Except for you. Do I make you uncomfortable?"
She didn't look at him, and shook her head 'no.'
"Be honest, Teresa. I make you very uncomfortable, don't I?"
She averted her eyes to his face - the smirk that seemed to leap from his lips. "Sorta."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"Yes," she said.
"Do I put you on the spot?"
"Yes."
"Do I make you wet?"
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "I beg your pardon."
He smiled, stifling his chuckles. "I do, don't I? I make you horny."
She glared at him. "You make me sick."
He shrugged. "Be that way, Miss Wilcombe. But that won't help you in this situation. Where do you live?"
"I'm not telling you," she said.
"You aren't?"
"No," she replied icily.
"Ah, well you see, that's too bad," he replied. "And also, that's a problem. Your problem, of course. Not mine, hey? I bet you look like your mother, don't you?"
She looked at him oddly. "What do you mean?"
He headed for the door. "Nothing, of course. Nothing at all. Teresa, you may leave now. I've got a soundcheck to get to, you see…"
She walked out the opened door and left, slightly curious about what he was up to. But the farther she got from him, the more relief she felt. He did make her uncomfortable, and he did make her nervous. And, yes, he did make her horny.