A Romantic Scene In An Unromantic Place [FICTOID]

They sailed down the sewer on a silver barge, masking the smell with torches of frankincense. 

“More champagne, my dear?” the count asked.

“Delighted,” said the countess.  She enjoyed their midnight excursions.

The count poured from the magnum at his elbow.  He had purchased it from a blacksmith at a barbecue, said blacksmith not offering a very clear explanation of how he came by it (some nonsense about finding it in a bundle with a Bible and some Venetian blinds).

The count found the story somewhat farfetched (More like a plot for a musical, he thought) but didn’t feel like going into the city to buy a bottle from his usual supplier.

A spark flew off a torch and landed in the countess’ glass.  She flicked it out with her tongue (a proper woman didn’t let such things bother her).  “Where are you taking me tonight?  Rat shooting?”

The count laughed.  “My dear, don’t you ever tire of that sport?”

“Never.  I pretend they’re my former mother-in-law.”

They clinked glasses and drifted along silently for a few minutes, then a flock of bats fluttered overhead, dropping rose petals on them.

“Oh, darling, you think of everything,” said the countess.

Their silver barge reached their destination:  A dock underneath the opera house.  Above them they could hear the thunderous music of the overture.

The count smiled and threw back a white ermine cloak, reveal the crate of dynamite hidden beneath it.

“Tonight,” he said in a low, sultry voice that sent shivers up the countess’ spine, “I have planned something very, very special.”

© Buzz Dixon