Suzi Sparrow eyed the Italian restaurant from across the street, self-consciously adjusting the strap of her 1950's flea market-find polka dot dress.

The dress was a mistake. She'd known it before she'd even left the apartment. Tomato sauce and a white dress was never a story that was going to have a happy ending, and she couldn't work out why she'd ever thought it would be a good idea. In fact, this whole 31 Blind Dates in 31 Days thing suggested by her best friends was starting to feel like a very bad idea. Maybe even worse than passata and white Everglaze cotton.

Six dates down. Twenty-five to go.

"Lucky number seven, maybe?" Suzi muttered to herself, before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the crosswalk.

From outside, it was too difficult to spy through the window of the restaurant to try and see which diner might be her date. Maybe she wasn't even here yet? Maybe she was standing around somewhere, trying to spot Suzi, just as Suzi was trying to spot her? Suzi scanned the street, doing her best to glance surreptitiously around her, but could see no one hanging out giving highly suspicious side-eye like she was. Admitting defeat, she pulled her compact from inside her purse, checked her lipstick in the mirror one last time, and pushed open the door to the restaurant.

It was busy inside, bustling with diners and a buzz of waiters hovering by packed tables. The air vibrated with a constant thrum of chatter and the sound of lively Italian opera playing in the background. Usually, Suzi preferred quieter restaurants than this, but a blind date needed a surrounding crowd.

"Safety in numbers," her best friend Trystan had said, before giving her strict instructions to emergency call him if the date turned out to be "L.A's answer to Buffalo Bill with a desire to make a nice new suit out of your skin."

Waiting just inside the doorway, Suzi glanced around the restaurant to see if Buffalo Bill was indeed present and waiting patiently with Precious the Dog in one hand and a tape measure in the other. She was so preoccupied, she didn't notice the maître d' standing just in front of her until he cleared his throat, a little too dramatically, a flicker of impatience on his face.

Okay, calm down, Brenda, she thought, doing her best not to let her anxiety show too much and flashing him, what she hoped was a confident, unflustered grin.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes drifting to the small X-Wing tattoo on her shoulder, his brows raising just a little, nostrils flaring briefly with visible derision.

Yeah, you can stop putting on that fake Italian accent, Suzi thought with some amusement, you're no more Italian than I am from Mos Eisley.

"Um... yeah, sure," she said. "I'm meeting... a friend. She's..." She stopped. How the Hell was she supposed to explain that she was meeting someone she only knew as Ms. Dante, who was wearing one gold crucifix earring and a button on her shirt that read I Survived the Upside Down? You would never announce a friend by their surname and she definitely didn't want the arrogant fake-Italian maître d' to know she was on a date with a complete stranger.

Just when she thought she'd have to completely embarrass herself in front of him, the maître d' blinked slowly, his greasy smirk momentarily freezing into something robotic and vaguely repellent. When he opened his eyes fully again, the arrogant glare was gone, and he smiled apologetically.

"Excuse me, Miss Sparrow," he said, with a slight incline of his head. "If you would be so kind as to follow me. I'll show you to your table. Your friend is already here."

"Riiiight, sure," Suzi replied, staring after him in confusion, as he glided through the maze of tables towards the back of the restaurant. What the ever-loving fuck had that been all about? And how had he known her name?

The maître d' stopped in the far corner, sweeping his arm in an over-exaggerated flourish to show her the table, where her date waited, the large black leather-bound menu held up, obscuring her face. Suzi swallowed involuntarily, her palms suddenly sweaty, her purse threatening to slip out of her grasp.

The menu was lowered to reveal a shock of bright red hair, the bangs swept back into a high quiff, the back and sides, short and choppy. A sweep of crimson eye shadow would have looked totally OTT on anyone else, but not on Ms. Dante, who coolly assessed Suzi for a few seconds, before breaking into a wide, warm grin.

Great teeth, thank goodness, thought Suzi. Gorgeous smile, check. Awesome hair, check. Perfect make-up, check. One 'I Survived the Upside Down' button, check. One over-sized crucifix earring... an inverted crucifix... okaaaaaaaaay. Interesting.

It took a few moments for Suzi to realise she was staring, and that Ms. Dante had stood up and was extending her hand across the table, her gaze never leaving Suzi's for a second. Flushing, she reached out and took it, wondering if she was imagining how Ms. Dante's thumb had lightly grazed the back of her hand.

"Miss... Sparrow?" Ms. Dante said.

"Uh... yeah," Suzi replied, her mouth suddenly dry. "Suzanne, actually. But you can call me Suzi." Hell, you can call me whatever the heck you want, she silently added to herself.

Ms. Dante's lips curled up at the corner.

"Please, take a seat, Suzi," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite and Suzi did just that, settling down across from Ms. Dante and it was then she noticed the maître d' was still there, his smile now strangely fixed and looking like someone had a tight hold of his balls and was squeezing harder with each second. Suzi looked at him, alarmed, but Ms. Dante merely dragged her gaze almost reluctantly in his direction, exhaling a tiresome sigh.

"Could you be a dear and get someone to come and take our drinks order?"

The maître d' visibly relaxed and nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Oh, but I will do that myself. It's no problem. What may I get you?"

"Suzi?" Ms. Dante prompted.

"Actually, I'd love a glass of wine."

'Fabulous. Me too. Do you like red or white?"

"Red would be great, if you like that?" Suzi shrugged.

The other woman smiled in agreement. "Perfect. Let's have a nice Chianti."

Was it Suzi's imagination or had Ms. Dante's smile widened a little, a slight glimmer of knowing in her eye?

Sparrow, you are completely crazy, Suzi thought.The Chianti thing is just coincidence. You're not about to have dinner with the female version of Hannibal Lecter or Buffalo Bill. She's just a hot girl with a cool name.

The maître d' went hurtling off like a spinning top, leaving Suzi and her date to stare at each other across the table. Suddenly, Suzi was self-conscious of her vintage dress and retro cherry drop earrings. Ms. Dante was cool. Probably too cool.

"I love your outfit," Ms. Dante said. "Topanga vintage market, right? They have such awesome finds over there," she added, referring to the exact flea market Suzi had got the dress from.

Her eyes widened. "Wow, you go there too?"

Ms. Dante waved her off. "Sure. I know someone who sells there. They have this little antique stall, sells unique collectibles. Porcelain dolls. Mirrors. Curio cabinet stuff. Occult shit. That kind of thing, you know?"

"Actually, I do know that stall. Doesn't your friend get bothered by that group from one of the local churches?"

Ms. Dante rolled her eyes and smirked. "Oh, yeah, those guys. All calf-length skirts and skin-tone pantyhose. And that's just the men." She laughed, and Suzi couldn't help but smile. "You can practically hear the polyester squeak as they walk. I swear, if they spent more time on their own business than they do on my friend's, maybe they'd get a few more newcomers walking through the door of their establishment, instead of preaching to empty pews every Sunday. But no, they have to send their holy contingency to go bother her about her possessed dolls and dimensional portals to Hell disguised as mirrors." She stopped, trailing off as she looked at Suzi. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and shrugged. "Sorry, there's me on my soapbox again. Can't help it sometimes."

"Oh, it's fine, really," assured Suzi. "That church group are a little full-on. I was there just last week checking out your friend's stall and one of the guys there totally flipped when he saw me looking at all the stuff. Told me not to touch one of the doll's because it was cursed, or something." She laughed almost self-consciously, remembering the guy with the slick-down hair and tweed jacket, who'd pointed his finger wildly at her, like a preacher in the pulpit, delivering his daily dose of fire and brimstone.

Ms. Dante nodded; her eyes seemingly full of understanding. "Well, there's no accounting for crazy, right?"

When the maître d' returned, he poured a little wine into Ms. Dante's glass – again, with a hyped-up dramatic flourish that was definitely looking a little weird – his eyes taking on an almost fevered look of desperation. Sweat peppered his brow.

Ms. Dante sipped the wine and confirmed her approval of the vintage, and the man's whole body seemed to melt with relief, shoulders collapsing in on themselves, his face - which had been a mask of tight tension - switching into a waxy, simpering smile. With both their glasses filled and the bottle left on the table, he walked away – backwards, Suzi noted, almost bowing as he retreated from view.

"Is it me or is there something definitely off about that dude?" she said, turning back to look at Ms. Dante again.

The other woman grinned, arching one brow. "You mean, apart from the Hitler 'tache and the excess perspiration?"

They laughed warmly together then and Suzi relaxed back into her chair. Ms. Dante might have been the coolest girl she'd gone on a date with in a while, but her humor felt like a warm blanket, enveloping her bones and skin, easing her anxieties immediately.

"So, um..." she said, not sure where to start. "Can I ask your name? I mean, I love the whole Ms. Dante thing, it's like, way cool, but I can't keep calling you that for the whole evening."

The other woman took a sip of Chianti, pressing her lips together to savor the taste. "Sure, you can call me... Lucy."

Suzi stared at her, her mouth twitching at the corner. "Wait, is that not your real name?"

Ms. Dante's eyes locked on hers and a wicked rush of goosebumps rippled up Suzi's bare arms.

"Oh, I go by many names. But, for the sake of this date, you can call me Lucy."

"Okaaaay, I'll admit. You've got me curious."

Lucy smiled, a wistful faraway look in her eyes as she tapped the rim of the glass with one fingernail. "Well, let it be said, I have always loved a curious woman. Since the beginning of time, you might say." She looked up at Suzi. "So, Ms. Sparrow – great name too, by the way – tell me, what do you do?"

Suzi opened her mouth to speak, just as a waitress appeared at her side, pen and order pad ready in her hand. Glancing quickly at the menu, Suzi's menu anxiety reared its ugly head as she panicked at all the tomato-based choices on the list.

Lucy spoke up, leaning over the table and lowering her voice, almost conspiratorially. "The fettucine alfredo is to die for here, I swear on my Father's name it is."

Fettucine alfredo. Sans tomatoes. Perfect, thought Suzi. "Then, I'll go for that. Thank you."

"I'll join you," Lucy said, shooting her a wink and handing the menu back to the waitress, who disappeared promptly with their order. "So, you were about to tell me what your occupation is, I believe?"

"Oh," Suzi replied, her stomach flipping. She always hated this question and could almost predict that Lucy's interest would fade rapidly when she gave her answer. "Actually, I'm looking for work. I recently graduated from UCLA. English Literature grad."

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "Ah, so you're in the market for a job. Interesting. I'm always looking for new recruits."

Suzi's heart picked up a beat. "Really? Why? What do you do?"

Lucy sat back in her chair, nursing the glass of wine and running her tongue over her teeth. "Hmm, it's a little early in the date for me to reveal so much, but I like you, Suzi. You seem very cool. Great taste in fashion. A love for the fantastical, I see." She gestured to the Star Wars tattoo. "Lovers of fantasy always have more of an open mind about these kind of things. To be honest, I often find that with those who read books. It's why some religious factions are so keen to ban them or burn them. I mean, God forbid anyone seek wisdom and knowledge, huh? You were right by the way."

"Right about what?"

Lucy smiled wickedly. "The asshole maître d'. He's not a real Italian. His real name is Carter Junior. All the way from Des Moines, Iowa. Moved here a couple of years back, trying to escape the heat of the rumor he was caught in the holding pen at the Iowa State Fair, doing something unmentionable with Carter Senior's prize swine." Her accent had slipped easily into a perfect Mid-Western drawl. "Now, he's head waiter extraordinaire at the best little Italian this side of Westwood Village and goes by the name of Pasqualino. So continental of him, don't you think?" She winked and took a long sip of wine, seeming to enjoy Suzi's clear look of surprise.

Suzi hesitated. Had she mentioned out loud about the maître d' and his fake accent? She didn't think she had, but she must have done for Lucy to say it. "I don't understand," she said, bemused. "How do you know so much about him?"

Lucy sniffed dismissively. "Because it's my business to know a lot of things about a lot of people."

She rested her elbows on the table, placing the glass down in front of her.

'You really want to know what I do for a living?"

Suddenly, Suzi wasn't so sure she did want to know. Suddenly, the very cool Ms. Lucy Dante seemed like she was steeped in shadow, a sharp glint to her eyes, a darkness about her features. What the fuck was in this Chianti?

"It's quite simple, Suzi Sparrow, UCLA graduate and lover of vintage dresses, which look fucking great on you, I might add." She sighed as she let her eyes run over Suzi, biting down on her lip as if unsure whether to go on. "I'm the Devil, of course."

"W-what did you say?"

"I'm the Devil. Lucifer. The Big Cheese. The Head Honcho of the Underworld."

Oh, of course,Sparrow, thought Suzi, you couldn't just go on a date with Hannibal Lecter or Buffalo Bill. You had to go on a date with Satan of all people.

Suzi took a big gulp of wine and exhaled slowly. This was insane. Crazy. A joke. It had to be. Maybe she was being pranked? Some new You Tube show or something.

"Am I being filmed?" she asked, glancing around, her gaze coming back to rest on Lucy, who was watching her intently. "You got a hidden camera somewhere, filming all this for your channel?"

"Oh, you think I'm pranking you!" Lucy said, chuckling and running her fingers down the inverted cross dangling from her ear. "Is it the earring? I thought it would be a fun touch. Maybe it's a little too obvious. Look, the truth is, that maître d' wasn't going to give you the respect you deserved until I gave him the inner kick he needed to do as he's told. You know, if you need more proof, I can try something else. I mean, parlour tricks are more dear ol' JC's style, but if you want me to turn water into wine, I can do that too. Or maybe get the maître d's head to spin three hundred and sixty degrees? Now that would be fun."

Suzi stared at her for a moment, before breaking into laughter, her shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, you got me. I'll play along. Lucy. Lucifer. I see what you did there. Very good. Listen, I'll be honest, I kinda like this whole mysterious 'I'm the Devil' thing you have going on. It certainly makes for interesting conversation and I've gotta tell you, some dates I've been on in my life have been dull as shit, so this is definitely not one of those, but..." She trailed off.

"I'm glad to hear it," interrupted Lucy. "Nobody has ever accused me of being boring. I'd hate to luck out now. But...what?"

"But... you can't be the Devil."

"Oh really? Why not?" Lucy looked genuinely intrigued, but Suzi could see a hint of amusement in her expression.

Suzi stared at her, incredulous and more than a little smug that she'd got her on this one.

"Because Lucifer is a man."

"Who told you that?" said Lucy, her grin widening.

Suzi laughed, enjoying this charade now. This definitely was turning out to be more fun than she'd expected. A little weird, granted, but fun, nevertheless. "Oh, come on! Everyone knows Lucifer is a guy!"

Lucy pointed her finger at Suzi. "Wait! Don't tell me... a Tom Ellis fan, right?"

"Well, Tom is hot, but I'm not one of those millennials who can't see beyond popular culture. Lucifer - if you believe in all this shit- has been depicted as a guy for centuries."

The other woman held her hands up in mock-defeat. "Centuries? Wow. Then history can't be wrong, huh? Tell me, do you always believe what you've been spoon-fed? You say you're not a pop-culture fanatic millennial, but believing in a male Lucifer just because a couple of thousand years ago a guy with a dodgy beard and a mad glint in his eyes wrote down a heap of gibberish bullshit on some papyrus doesn't mean it's true. Being a prophet doesn't mean they were telling the truth. It was propaganda, pure and simple. Those mad assholes were the Cambridge Analytica of their time."

Suzi couldn't help but giggle, shaking her head. "Oh, you're good. Really good."

"Well, sometimes, I can be good. But, a lot of the time, I can be really naughty. Father despairs of me so much, you know." Lucy winked again, this time, her irises appearing to be completely black as she did so, before switching back to their startling blue.

Suzi sucked in a breath. "Oh my God, how did you just do that? Are you wearing contacts or something?" she said, just as the waitress appeared with their food, placing two bowls of steaming hot pasta down in front of each of them.

"I told you," said Lucy, innocently. "Parlour tricks. You should dig in. This fettucine alfredo is amazing." She picked up the fork and stabbed at the pasta, using the spoon to help her twist it around the prongs before shovelling it into her mouth. Swallowing, she moaned in appreciation, a little too loudly.

Suzi glanced around. No one was watching. No one was listening. It was just her and this strange woman, who claimed to be the Devil, eating pasta and drinking Chianti. Just another night out in Westwood Village.

"So, you're saying that you're really the Devil?"

"All my life. My very loooong life." Lucy shoved another forkful of pasta into her mouth. Suzi hadn't touched hers. "Come on, eat, you'll love it, I'm sure."

Suzi picked up her fork and spoon, gingerly prodding at the fettucine. "If you're really the Devil, why are you here, on a Blind Date? Surely the Devil can date whoever he – sorry, she – wants, without the need to date a complete stranger?"

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, sure. But this isn't exactly a Blind Date. We've met before."

'Okay, you have to know that's a totally creepy thing to say, right?"

Lucy threw back her head and laughed. "But of course. Duh! I'm the Devil. I'm meant to be creepy. That's kind of my thing. Part of my whole marketing campaign." She took a break to fill up both glasses again. "Look, I don't want to completely freak you out, but I saw you. At Topanga. You wouldn't recognise me, because, well, I didn't look like this. Purple hair, nose ring, Therapy band t-shirt? You were browsing stuff on my friend's stall. I saw when that crazy guy from the God-Squad told you that if you touched the tiny porcelain doll with the old ivory lace dress and the red hair, you would be possessed by an evil spirit. You stared him right in the face and picked it up anyway. I liked that. You got balls, Suzi Sparrow. Metaphorically, of course."

Suzi did remember the girl with the purple hair who'd laughed hysterically when she'd looked the old dude square in the face and touched the strange, eerie-looking doll anyway, but she also remembered that Trystan had been right by her side when she did it. This whole thing was starting to make a Hell of a lot of sense.

"Okaaaaay," she said, rolling her eyes and smiling broadly. "I get it now. This has got Trystan all over it."

"Trystan?" Lucy said, innocently – too innocently, Suzi could see.

Picking up the glass, she drained the wine and placed it back on the table, wagging her finger. "Yeah, you know... Trystan. My friend. The guy who tried to freak me out before I met you, telling me to beware of serial killers and shit and now you're here, pretending to be the Devil, when we all know that the Devil is a guy."

Lucy's eyes widened. "Oh, you think this is a set-up?"

It was Suzi's turn to wave her off. "Sure. Of course, it is. But, you know what?" She raised her hand and motioned for the maître d' – who may or may not have had a disturbing desire for prize piggy – to fetch them another bottle of wine, before turning back to face her date. "I'm having a ball. Honestly, I am. So, go ahead."

"Go ahead?"

"Yup. Go ahead, Lucifer. Try and recruit me as one of your evil minions."

Lucy grinned, her eyes glinting with the challenge. "I'm not trying to recruit you, Suzi, I'm just trying to date you. Is that such a bad thing?"

Suzi eyed her for a moment, casting her gaze over the other woman's face. Fake Devil or not, Ms. Lucy Dante was hot, and she was far more interesting than most, if but a little nuts, maybe.

"No," she said, finally, twirling the pasta around her fork. "No, not a bad thing at all. I'm sure there's worse things in life a girl can do than go on a Blind Date with the Devil."

"Oh, Suzi Sparrow," Lucy replied, with a wink. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. No idea at all."

*

Lucy watched as Suzi walked away, glancing behind her a couple of times and laughing to herself, rolling the business card that Lucy had given her between her fingers before slipping it into her purse. When the car pulled up to the sidewalk – a sleek, black monster of a car driven by, what she could only call a monster in his own right – Lucy slid easily into the back seat, settling back into the soft, supple leather with a satisfied smile.

The driver looked at her in the rear-view mirror, his fiery gaze like hot embers. "So?" growled Azazel, scratching a long, yellowed fingernail over his scaly scalp. "I take it she said no?"

Lucy rolled her eyes and tutted. "Oh, ye of little faith!" she scoffed. "Trust me, once her month of Blind Dates is done, I'll be the one she calls back for a second date."

Azazel snorted, which ended up in a phlegmy cough. He really needed to cut back on eating so many souls. It was playing serious havoc with his respiratory system. "Yeah? How do you know that, boss?"

Lucifer smiled languidly, slipping her hand inside her purse, her fingers finding just the thing she'd been keeping hold of for the past week.

When she withdrew the doll from the purse, it no longer had red hair, nor was it wearing an old ivory lace dress that had seen better days. It was wearing a beautiful vintage Everglaze cotton dress. A small black outline drawing of an X-Wing ship was etched on the doll's porcelain shoulder.

"She touched the doll, didn't she?" she said, with a grin. "She really should have listened to Gabriel when he told her not to pick it up. Serves him right for dressing up as one of the local polyester-wearing zealots. I told him that disguise never works."

Lucifer ran her fingers over the doll's face and stroked its hair, smiling wistfully to herself and thinking of the First Woman who touched what she was told not to touch, all those many years ago, back when it had all started.

"Curiosity is such a wonderful thing, don't you think?"

***

Author's Note: This one-shot is part of the 31 Blind Dates anthology from more than two dozen Wattpad writers including members of the Stars program, published authors, Ambassadors and Wattys winners. If you want to start at the beginning, go to the profile of rskovach You will find the next story in the collection on the profile of ShelleyBurbank . Just look for this sticker: