Another wasted night on the pull. The deafening drones of shit music washed over her body, cocooning her spirit from every other person around her. Make-up worse for wear and bored of watching her straw circle the circumference of her rum and coke, she stood up, shoulders back and walked to the exit, dignified, as not to give the impression that her night was anything other than successful. She could feel her heels sticking to the floor as she snaked her way through the gyrating crowd. Even in their inebriated stupor it felt as if they were mocking her. The stench of bracing hormones and sweat hung low in the crowded bar, almost suffocating her as she continued her quest for the door. There it was. E.X.I.T. Posture waning and spirit spiralling into oblivion she turned her back to the exit to scan the room one last time, almost in confirmation of a wasted evening.
She slipped into her scarlet jacket, ran her delicate fingers along the nape of her neck and released a shock of chocolate hair from her collar. It was over. She turned around to make for the ecstasy of the cool night air and stopped, dead. Her body surged with electricity, she was mesmerised, paralysed. Who was he? Why was he staring back at her? She studied his strong, masculine face, her eyes being the only part of her body that was mobile. They raced along his chest and down his stomach, over his groin and down his legs surveying every contour beneath his clothes. Although just a few mere seconds had passed it was like an ocean of time. Her cocoon had split. Finally able to access the muscles in her legs she tentatively stepped towards him, his burning coal eyes still clasped on her elegant alabaster face. With every foreboding step he continued to stare, undressing her curvaceous body with his penetrative gaze. Before she had the chance to speak he offered his hand, palm facing upwards as their eyes focused upon one another. Words were irrelevant. There was nothing to be said. As she slipped her hand into his, she felt his fingers separate hers and slide between them like a lover between his partner's legs.
They left. Excitement and passion roared loudly in her ears, louder than any of the shit music she had been destroyed by that night. She knew where they were going but neither one of them said anything. What would have been the point? The silence between them was deafening, they knew what was going to happen, they knew each other. Their hands were sweating as they turned into a residential street. Elgin Place. What did it matter? They entered a tall block of flats and hastily ascended the staircase to the second floor. He removed a set of keys from his back pocket and forced them into the door of his flat, 8B. He flung the door open and stepped in, heart pounding, mind racing.
They looked at one another, desperate to know each other underneath their clothes. He made the first move. Slipping his hands under the weight of her jacket, he pushed her shoulders back and watched it fall to the floor. His hands were curious and slowly brushed the front of her white cotton shirt, almost fascinated by the contrast of his olive skin. She allowed his hands to run over her breasts, his eyes following every movement. They slipped into the waist of her black pencil skirt and blindly discovered the bottom of her shirt. He pulled. He was becoming hungry to smell and taste her skin as he unbuttoned her shirt, bottom to top. She trembled with desire as his dominating hands caressed her. He stood in awe of her ivory skin, nipped waist and long tousled hair.