When the man leaped out of the shadows there had been no warning. The alley was dark, as black as sin, except for a thin glimmer of light from the street lamp that threw long finger-shaped shadows against the old red-brick buildings surrounding the alley.

Janet Lehman didn’t know she was walking through a dark, stinking alley, filled with the stench of garbage, black cats and dead rats. After four Mai Tai’s in the night club she didn’t know where the hell she was.

She didn’t often walk home alone; she liked to go clubbing with two of her acquaintances, Liz and Angela, but they were both out of town for the holidays, visiting relatives in the bay area. Janet left her car at her mid-town apartment that night; she walked over to the capital to watch the governor light the Christmas tree. It was a joyous evening, as children lined up to sit on Santa’s lap and families gathered round to celebrate the annual event.

After the crowd left Janet stood alone, looking up at the tall, brightly lit tree. She reflected for a moment on what it meant to be together, to have a family, to celebrate life. But she quickly dismissed the thought, turned brusquely away, and went off to do her own celebrating.

She walked into the club around eleven o’clock, sat at the bar, and drank her first Mai Tai. A young couple perched on one of the bar stools had their arms and legs wrapped around each other like two salty pretzels. An old Mexican with a drooping mustache sat at the end of the bar, half drunk, his head bent forward, pressed against his chest, his bloodshot eyes dancing to the rock and roll music from the jukebox in the corner. There were a dozen or so people gyrating on a circular dance floor. The room was close, and smelled from smoke.

“Another Mai Tai doctor?”

Doctor Janet Lehman looked up at the bartender, a young, good-looking dark-haired kid wearing a Hawaiian shirt picturing surfer girls in bikinis and gigantic waves. He knew the lady…she’d been a regular at the club for the past year.

“Yes…thanks,” she replied.

The Mexican raised his drunken head and grinned at her. “Hey doctor, can you make a house call for me tonight?” He laughed; a harsh, metallic laugh.

“She’s no medical doctor, hombre, she’s a doctor of philosophy,” said the bartender.

“Oh, a philosopher. Tell me, philosopher lady…what do you think of this stinkin’ country?”

“Hey hombre --”

“It’s all right,” said Janet. She thought for a moment, then she smiled at the drunken Mexican. “As stinkin’ countries go…this one’s pretty damn good.”

The Mexican rocked back on his bar stool and roared with drunken laughter. “I think I like you, philosopher lady. You’re stinkin’ good.”

He raised his beer mug and held it up toward her. She raised her glass and they drank.

A tall, well-built youngster wearing slacks and a v-neck sweater came off the dance floor and put his empty glass on the bar. He beckoned to the bartender. “Hey there chief, another beer please.”

The bartender obliged. The young man had a pleasant face; in fact, he looked like the all-American boy; blond hair, x-football player, clean-cut, conservative.

He looked over at Janet and smiled. She could be a good pick-up, he thought. Loose-fitting blouse, short skirt, long black hair, deep dark eyes, full sensual lips, splendid firm breasts, slim, exquisite legs, a charming smile. He had instant fantasies of taking her home and stripping off her clothes for a midnight screwing. A natural instinct, a pure animal instinct.

The bartender slid his refill across the bar. The young man picked up his beer and took a step closer to Janet. “Care to dance?”

She looked at the kid. He may have been five or six years younger than her. “Why not,” she said, as she slid off the bar stool and walked over to the dance floor alongside the young man. An old rock-and-roll tune – ‘Twist and Shout’ – was playing on the juke box.

Half an hour later they were seated at a table near the dance floor. She was drinking another Mai Tai, he was still drinking beer. The club was almost empty.

“That’s your fourth Mai Tai,” said the young man. “You trying to set a new record?”

Through heavy eyelids she replied, “I’m celebrating; I signed my divorce papers this afternoon.”

“Congratulations,” he replied, lifting his glass in a toast, “you have your freedom.”

She looked long and hard at the young man. “Is that what it is?”

“You said you were celebrating. We can go back to your place and celebrate some more.”

She remained silent as she downed the last of her Mai Tai, took her purse off the table, and stood up.

“You’ll need a blow torch to light my fire, lover boy.” She blew him a mock kiss, turned around, steadied herself, and walked out of the night club.

It was well past midnight, there were no cars on the street, a deadly calm enveloped the city. Janet could hear the click of her heels scraping against the sidewalk. At the end of the block she stopped for a moment near the street lamp, brushed her long hair away from her face, reached into her purse, popped open a hand-held compact, and glanced at herself in the mirror. She saw someone she didn’t like, a thirty one year old divorced obnoxious drunk.

Janet promptly closed the compact, put it back in her purse, and stumbled into the alley. She kicked away some garbage as she walked through the shadows; a black cat dashed in front of her, the green eyes blazing in the darkness, and quickly vanished. “What the hell is this, Halloween?” she said as she stumbled along.

A voice came echoing through the alley. “Hey, I found a blow torch!”

She turned around and saw the young man running toward her. He was carrying a fire extinguisher. She started to laugh.

“Actually, it’s a fire extinguisher. I carry one in my car, but it looks a little like a blow torch,” he said, smiling at her.

Janet looked at him and shook her head. “You aren’t too bright, are you? Go home, lover boy.”

She turned to walk away, but he threw down the fire extinguisher, grabbed her arm and spun her around. “You want it, and I’m here to give it to you.”

He pulled her to him and started kissing her. She pushed him away and hit him with her purse. “Get lost loser!”

“We’ll see who loses.” He pushed her up against the side of the alley and began tearing at her blouse. “Knock it off!!” she screamed.

He pulled her skirt up over her thighs. “Stop, God damn-it!!” She kneed him in the groin. Enraged, he shouted, slapped her in the face and pushed her to the ground.

It was then that someone leaped out of the shadows, put a long, thick arm around the young man’s neck and dragged him away from her. Moments later she heard a shout of agony in the dark.

Janet got up and composed herself as the man emerged from the shadows. He stood away from her, as if to reassure her that he meant no harm. Most of his black sweaty face was covered by a thick black beard. His bloodshot eyes were veined and watery – another drunk, or a sleep disorder, she thought. He wore a long, moth-eaten dirty-looking overcoat and a pair of broken black and white sneakers. His black hair was a tangled knotted mess.

“You all right?” He had a deep, hoarse, frog-in-the-throat voice.

“I think so,” she said.

He picked something up off the ground, a long, thin black case, and started to walk away. “Wait!” she shouted.

He stopped and turned to look at her. She pointed to the young man sprawled on the ground. “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious,” the man replied. “I hit him with the fire extinguisher.”

Jan looked down at the body by her feet.

“You better go home,” he said.

“Yes…I’m going.” She watched the man vanish in the darkened alley, then she took a last look at her attacker. Her face became an iron mask of anger and revulsion.

“Loser!” she shouted, as she kicked the fire extinguisher away and walked on.