"Okay, yes, there are dirty clothes on the floor and clutter everywhere. Does that fit into your stereotype of lesbians?"

"I have no idea what the stereotype is for lesbian housekeeping."

"I don't think there is one. Gay guys have one but we don't."

Gertie opened the door and they walked into her apartment.

"Holy crap," said Charlene. "You weren't kidding."

"I warned you."

"You've color-coordinated your books."

"Yep. And they're alphabetized by author within the color coordination."

Charlene walked over to the bookcase. "That is some serial killer behavior right there. Where do you keep your notebooks filled with tiny print?"

"I'll just be a minute," said Gertie, walking into her bedroom and closing the door.

Charlene wandered around the living room. She wondered if Gertie would notice if she slid the coaster on the coffee table a half-inch to the right, and decided that she probably would. Charlene didn't test this theory.

Gertie's Blu-Ray collection, mostly independent cinema, passed muster. Apparently all of her music was digital, so Charlene would wait to pass judgment upon her collection. Her reading habits were all over the place. Charlene was tempted to peek in her refrigerator or medicine cabinet, but that kind of snooping was only acceptable if she'd had sex with the person.

Gertie came out of her bedroom, wearing jeans, a sweater, and a light jacket. She also wore a wig to give her long brown hair. It wasn't a flattering look for her facial structure, so it was good that she was trying to lure a psychopath instead of get a boyfriend.

"Do you have a gun right now?" Charlene asked.

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay, well, guns make me really nervous, so don't, like, fall or anything."

"I won't fall down on my gun." Gertie reached into her jacket pocket and took out the stun gun. She pressed a button and Charlene could see the electricity crackle between the two electrodes.

"I didn't realize you could actually see the electricity on those things," she said. "I thought that was a special effect in movies."

"Nope. I've got an extra one for you."

"No, that's okay. I won't be leaving my car."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Stun guns, real guns, nail guns—they all freak me out. But I'm glad you have them. Shall we be off?"

They got into Charlene's car. As they drove away, Charlene realized that she was more nervous around guns than she'd thought. Just knowing that Gertie had one concealed somewhere was making it difficult to focus on her driving. She'd once done sex play that involved a switchblade knife (but only once) so she wasn't completely weapons-phobic, but damn, she hated having that gun in the car.