Stephanie shivered as she walked past the fridge's lining the supermarket aisle. Goosebumps rose on her naked arms. She felt uncomfortable; the charcoal dress restricted her shoulders. She hated changing back into her work cloths after exercising. The cold air attacked her aching feet trapped within her court shoes. It made her nylon stockings cold and abrasive to her legs. She made a mental note to change her exercise day.
*
She looked down at her hands all the items from her list were gathered in the shopping trolley. Stephanie was touring the aisles looking to see the Caribbean woman. Stephanie had started shopping midweek by accident. Varying the day to suit her weekly schedule. Now she scheduled her work around this day of the week. Work was tough. It had to be. Stephanie had a career plan to take her to the top. Like Paul her partner she was ambitious without compromise. They planned to marry some time, currently they shared a roof, and occasionally they shared a bed. Work was the thing now; it would give them a life eventually. The time they missed together would be compensated in years to come. The tall Caribbean woman was a different priority. Maybe she would never appear again.
As the fatigue engulfed Stephanie she tried to rationalise the importance of the encounter. They had never spoken, exchanged so much as a nod. Yet it had become an event of major importance, to see her, to know how she was dressed. She would wear leather. Stephanie knew. It was all she had ever seen her wear. Clothes or dress had never been an issue for Stephanie. Jeans and tee shirt were her preference, dresses or skirts the working norm. Stephanie always wore dark clothes they looked efficient businesslike. Which was exactly what Stephanie was; a ruthless professional, firm, fair, calculating. She would not use her sex, to gain attention. She believed in results alone.
Stephanie felt like she had hit a brick wall. She was physically drained. Mentally as she paced the aisles she tried to see beyond. Thinking through the work politics, trying to devise the plan, to take her onto the next level. She was one of the boys she wanted to be one of the men, one of the hierarchy within her firm. Paul occasionally mocked her, saying he could turn queer, if she grew some balls. Stephanie didn't appreciate the comment. Her breasts were small, but she was definitely a woman. Frills and lace didn't suit her. She liked functional clothes and underwear. He didn't complain when she wrapped her naked limbs around him, beneath the comfort of the sheets. He liked the stamina and strength of her body when her thighs gripped his hips, riding his length long into the night. Stephanie was a woman, to those she wanted to be. At work, she was an employee just like the rest.
Lost in thought Stephanie almost collided with the elegant leather clad figure she had been seeking. She swerved to miss the brown-skirted rump, topped by an orange and chocolate harlequin vest. Switching to the opposite shelves Stephanie stopped to study her ticked list. The lithe glossy limbs sauntered by, the full length of leg revealed by a thigh high split. Transfixed Stephanie waited as the orange high-heeled ankle boots rounded the corner. She slumped over her trolley as the sound of her beating heart filled her ears. As if travelling on cushions of air, the Caribbean woman appeared to glide like a ghost. So effortless and measured were her steps they appeared slow. Yet the woman so quickly disappeared.
Stephanie doubled back, trying to calculate their next point of intersection. In the distance the woman turned the corner walking up the aisle. Quickly grabbing a tin from the shelf Stephanie paused to wait. The long legs propelled the statuesque body towards her. Full dark breasts, glided forward as if moulded into the leather top. The long plaited hair bobbed like a beaded curtain with the gentle rhythm of her motion. The woman instinctively selected items from the shelves never deviating from her stride. She passed Stephanie again. Stephanie continued her fictional shopping tour shadowing the woman around the shop. A new elation and energy entered her step, as she followed her to the checkout tills.
This was it, the evening done. Not once had they spoken. Stephanie guiltily left the shop. She couldn't explain why she did it. From where she got the thrill. This woman was special. She had a confidence, a presence that demanded attention. It was not enough reason to follow her around. There was something more, making her exciting. It was irrational and stupid. The woman countered everything Stephanie believed in. There was nothing of suppressed sexuality about the woman's dress. To the contrary, she was quite the reverse, to the point of being obvious. Yet she had a calm, superiority in her face, which said approach me if you dare. Stephanie didn't dare. Perhaps the mystique lay in the veneer, making her attractive, exclusive beyond reach.
Cars cruised looking for a parking space, as Stephanie searched for a last trace of the Caribbean woman. She had gone. Sadly loading her shopping into the car Stephanie returned the shopping trolley to its space. Opening her car door she found herself blocked by a silver sports car halting inches diagonally from her. A beaded head appeared from the tinted darkened cabin,
'You looking for me girl?'
'No' came Stephanie's nervous reply, feeling vulnerable trapped between the two cars.
'Why have you been following me around for the past weeks, like a lost puppy looking for its owner?' The Caribbean woman eased open her car door imprisoning Stephanie in a triangle of metal.
The woman swung her long mahogany legs round in the seat slipping her booted feet onto the ground. The warm smell of leather drifted towards Stephanie. Even the car interior was leather. As the heady aroma bit, Stephanie detected a second note, fragrant like exotic flowers. She felt lightheaded. Too much exercise. The shopping trip had been a mistake. Paul had warned her she wasn't eating properly. She ignored him. She always did. The Caribbean woman was studying her. Her eyes were soft brown, in a sparkling white setting. The flickering movement traced around Stephanie's figure, constantly returning to her face.
'You want something from me girl?'
Stephanie was embarrassed by the questioning. She didn't know what she wanted. She was guilty at being caught. She remained sullen defensive looking for a quick way out.
'I haven't been following you. It's just coincidence.' Stephanie studied her car; she had no way to get in without the other woman moving.
'Look I'm sorry. It's late. I am tired. It has been a long day. I'd like to go home now. If you'd just move your car.'
The fine leather of the woman's driving glove, stroked along Stephanie's hipbone.
'I can see you are tired. You are weary but you followed me. What is it you want from me?' The Caribbean woman looking directly into Stephanie's eyes fixed her with a commanding stare.
Stephanie stood hypnotised by the woman. The gloved hand continued to stroke her hip. Stephanie felt awkward. The feeling was not unpleasant. As the hand travelled down her dress to massage her thigh, it became soothing relaxing. Stephanie felt she should ask her to stop. She felt a tremble in her legs. Stephanie rolled her lower lip over her teeth. What she felt was wrong, but she didn't want it to stop either. She felt herself being pulled closer to the woman. The aroma of flowers became more heady and stronger. Stephanie's hands hung limp by her side. Why did she not pull away from the hold? Why could she not just arrest the fingers stroking her thigh the flattened palm now massaging her lower abdomen?
'Come on girl. Don't be shy, why you been following me all these weeks?' The Caribbean woman asked. Her thumbs shadowed Stephanie's vulva, as the fingers still gripped her thigh. Stephanie's voice was breaking as she began to speak.
