Once upon a time, in a small town you’ve probably never been to, there was a lovely young woman who lived with her mother on a farm.  Most likely she had a respectable name like Jenny or Claire, but because of her luxurious red hair, everyone called her Scarlet; and because of her beauty she was spoiled by all who knew her.

When Scarlet was eighteen, her mother said to her, “It’s time for you to make your own way in the world.  This town is too small for a girl with your looks.  Your grandmother has agreed to let you stay with her in the city.”

Scarlet was pleased, for she had always dreamed of going away to the big city and making a name for herself.  So the very next morning, her mother drove her to the train station, handed her a ticket, and said, “Now remember, child, the city’s full of opportunities, but its full of dangers too.  Be a good girl, and don’t talk to strangers.”  And Scarlet agreed, though her head was already filled with images of fancy dresses, elegant cocktail parties, and glamorous people.  She boarded the train, taking her seat eagerly- anxious to arrive in her new and exciting life.  She watched as the rows of wheat and corn became rows of tract homes, then high rises, then skyscrapers- watched happily as she left her home in Nowhere, USA to enter the deep, dark forest of the island of Manhattan.

Scarlet alighted from her compartment, eyes wide at the hustle and bustle of the station.  She looked for her grandmother- here, there, everywhere- but the old woman was nowhere to be found.  Scarlet was puzzled, but not worried, and she sat down on a bench to wait.

“Excuse me,” a low growling voice said in her ear, “Is this seat taken?”

Scarlet jumped, and turned her wide, doe-like eyes to the man who had sat himself beside her.  He was tall and muscular, and very handsome- with an expensive suit tailored just so on his broad shoulders.  He had deep dark eyes and a beard around the mouth that was grinning at her.  She smiled back, charmed.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked casually.

“My grandmother,” Scarlet answered, forgetting her promise to her mother, “She’s meeting me.”

The man smiled at that, his canines long and exposed.  He told her that he had been struck by her beauty, that he was a magazine editor, that he could get her a job at a modeling agency.  She was entranced.  She could see her dreams of glamour and affluence spinning before her eyes, and barely looked at the business card he gave her.

“Listen,” he said, leaning in closer, “How about we get a drink, and I can tell you some more about the agency.”  Scarlet agreed quickly, forgetting all about her grandmother, and happily followed him to the parking lot.  

“Oh, what a lovely car you have!” she exclaimed, running her fingers over the glossy paint.  He smiled and unlocked the door, “All the better to drive you with, my dear.”  They drove until he stopped at a luxury high rise, where he tossed the keys to the valet and ushered her into the elevator.  When they reached the penthouse suite, she gasped at the expensive furniture and the gorgeous artwork adorning the walls.  “Oh, what a lovely home you have!”  He winked from his place behind the mini-bar, “All the better to entertain you with, my dear.”  He mixed up a martini as quick as a flash, dropping in the olive with a flourish and handing it to her.  She thanked him, and took a long drink, coughing a little, “Oh, what a strong drink it is.”

The man said nothing at that, but smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes.  Scarlet felt slightly dizzy.  She began to feel vaguely sick.  The martini glass dropped from her loosening grip and smashed to the floor.  Her head whirled, and she slumped over the arm of the sofa.  Her eyes were closing….she couldn’t fight it… but she could see the man, with his wolfish smile, coming closer… closer… closer…

Scarlet’s mother got the call two days later.  I’m sorry, the policeman said, I’m sorry.