Free Out Are the Lights by Richard Laymon

really,' said Elizabeth. 'Haven't you ever proposed before?'
        'No.'
        'That surprises me, I must say. You seem so impulsive. Be a dear, and push me off.'
        Her air mattress had drifted, foot first, against a side of the pool.
        Dal, sitting on the end of the diving board, got to. his feet. He turned around carefully, and walked, the board springy under his feet. He climbed down. The concrete was still warm, though the sun no longer hit it. He liked the feel of the breeze.
        And he liked what it did to Elizabeth. It was the breeze, he assumed, that made her nipples stand rigid.
        He glanced at the martini glass she balanced on her belly. 'Would you like a refill, while you're beached?'
        'I would adore one.' She lifted the glass, tipped it to her mouth, and sucked in the olive.
        Dal pulled her mattress alongside the wall, and took the glass from her. He retrieved his glass from the end of the diving board, and carried them to the table. 'Fix you one, Herbie?' he asked.
        He smiled, realizing that the man's silent presence no longer unnerved him.
        'Herbie,' he said, 'you're a good fellow.'
        'He was never that,' Elizabeth called.
        Dal finished pouring the drinks. He returned to the pool. He climbed down the tile steps at the shallow end, and waded out to Elizabeth.
        He placed the glass on her belly. 'Thank you, dear,' she said. 'Think little of it.'
        'Now. pretend I'm Connie.'
        'Why'd I do that?'
        'You're going to propose to me.'
        'Huh?'
        'You said you've never proposed before. Here's your chance.'
        'Oh, I don't know.'
        Elizabeth raised her head slightly off the inflated pillow, sipped her martini without spilling, and rested the glass on her belly. 'You start by taking her to a nice restaurant. Have a few drinks.'
        'Ply her with liquor.'
        'Precisely. Have a marvelous meal. Lobster, perhaps.'
        'I can't eat seafood.'
        'Then steak. Chateaubriant would do nicely. When you're done, order after-dinner drinks. Cognac- '
        'Connie likes Irish Coffee.'
        'Fine. Have that. And now, it's time. You're both full, slightly high, and happy.'
        'Okay.'
        'I'm Connie.'
        She started to drift away. Dal caught her by the foot, and pulled her back to him. 'Connie, I want to marry you.'
        'Marry me? Oh, Dal! Are you sure? Why would you want to marry someone like me?'
        ' 'Cause Elizabeth told me to.'
        'That won't do at all.'
        

CHAPTER ELEVEN
        
        They stepped out of the restaurant. 'That was very nice,' Connie said. 'Thank you.' She took Pete's hand.
        'The night's young. Anything special you'd like to do?'
        'Yes, as a matter of fact.'
        'Shoot.'
        'Let's go to a movie.'
        'A movie.' He looked at her, grinning, as if he thought it a fine, rather childlike idea. 'Anything in particular?'
        She shrugged. 'I don't care. Just so it's dark.'
        'Do you like scary films?'
        'Do you?'
        'They're my favorite. I know just the place. I don't know what's playing there tonight, but it'll probably be good.'
        'Bet I can guess. The Haunted Palace.'
        'You've been there?'
        'Not since it changed hands. It used to be the Elsinore.'
        'It's a far cry from that, now.'
        
***
        
        In the darkness of the car, they didn't try to talk.
        Connie fastened her seatbelt. She thought it would be nice to open it. and scoot across the seat, and snuggle with Pete. She hadn't done anything like that in years. Tonight, though, she felt as eager and daring and uncertain as a teenager. She hesitated. Pete might think she was acting silly, or possessive.
        On the other hand, she felt so far away from him, strapped into the seat way over on this side of the car.
        With a trembling hand, she