He knew, by the glazed look in her eyes, that she was high on something, or perhaps drunk, a little too much wine. Her eyes, blue by day, were dark now, almost midnight, glassy with whatever she was on. Her hair was a dark blonde in color, now tousled, and slightly tangled, hanging in ringlets around her shoulders. She was dressed all in black, a sheer black blouse over a black, lacey bra, the ends tied in a knot at her midriff, showing a tanned, tight stomach; a black leather mini skirt covering what was sure to be a fine ass, with legs encased in silky thigh-high stockings, now torn and ragged, yet still, strangely enough, sexy and enticing. She wore a pair of knee high black leather boots, stiletto heels narrow and dangerous looking. He was sure she had been stunning and sensuous when she left her home for the night, heading out to the club on this Friday evening, to be surrounded by strobing lights and loud, gyrating music.
Looking at her, he could picture her moving her body to the beat of the music, her hips swaying, perhaps her eyes closed, losing herself in the sounds, the lights, the surrounding bodies crushed against hers, brushing against her. He could even see her, drink in hand, maybe laughing softly with a girlfriend, while her eyes surveyed the crowd before her, choosing which lucky man, or woman, would go home with her this evening. He wondered when her fun-filled night had ended; when she had realized that this night, it was she that had been chosen, she that had been watched and studied, before being led like a lamb to slaughter, into the grimy, cobblestoned alley, right below his window, where he watched her getting fucked, pressed against the cold cement wall.
He had spent many a night looking out this window, into the alley below, watching the party-goers leaving the club, laughing and giggling, drunk and stoned, stumbling to their vehicles and hanging onto their chosen lovers of the night. He had watched people getting into fights, getting high and then throwing up, making out like teenagers in the darkness. He had watched cars getting broken into, beer bottles thrown and glass shattering everywhere, listened to vile curse words and doors slamming, the people embroiled in their anger. This alley behind the club was like a dark, campy movie, filled with Hollywood beauty and good looks; the scenes, actors and lines changing, yet still the same. Tonight, however, the end scene was a bit different, a bit darker; a bit more morose. Tonight, someone was left in the alley, as the new dawn emerged.
He wondered, as he stared down at her, how she had been enticed to come play with the black haired man. Had she been plied with charm, with sweet-talk? Perhaps with drinks, laced with something, downed with laughter as the black haired man whispered naughty jokes into her ear. He remembered the two of them emerging from the club, she first, her face flushed with drink and laughter, the black haired man coming behind her, his hand on her shoulder, guiding her as they exited. He remembered the man steering her to the wall, her back now against it, as he continued to whisper into her ear, tucking her hair back behind her other ear, making her feel at ease in the dark alley behind the club. The streetlights had not been kind to her, he remembered, the glare shining too bright on her face, highlighting the years she had spent in clubs like this one...too much drink, cigarette smoke and dim lighting. Yet, this night, she had laughed at the black haired man's jokes, giggling quietly as her face blushed and brightened, not realizing that as the man plied her with laughter and jokes, he was steering her further away into the darkness of the alley, away from her fellow club-goers and partiers.
He remembers the two of them below him, in the darkest part of the alley, the blonde woman and the black haired man. He remembers the man continued his naughty whispers, the blonde still giggling as the man pressed her back against the cold alley wall, leaning in to kiss her, opening her lips with his tongue, kissing her deeper and harder. She pulled him against her, holding him to her, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair, as she kissed him back almost feverishly.
