The pleasure of this story will be enhanced for you by listening to the following tracks in order while reading (all of which are easily available via YouTube) - Taylor Swift 'Style'; Richard J. Aarden 'Not This Time' Christian Launier Bootleg mix; Moonbeam feat Avis Vox 'The Lilt' original mix; EcueD & Roald Velden 'Moments.'
*****
"Whatever you do, just don't send that gear here, any of it."
The mayor of the seaside town in Mykonos was referring to the half a million dollars worth of Behringer sound equipment for rave parties lying in a London pre-shipment warehouse in their hard-shell transport boxes.
Before the Euro crisis, Mykonos was one of the places where masses of summer tourists would gather, do E's and alcohol, and murder their eardrums.
Sandra was taking the phone call on her worn and definitely last-season mobile as she did her usual walk-through of the expensive boutiques, especially that one in particular - her favourite - which had its window display of faux eastern or oriental but nevertheless premium and de luxe clothes.
She never saw the other woman watching her.
The situation in Greece now was that the German kids in particular didn't come in the same numbers anymore, nor with the same lack of financial or any other kinds of restraint, and the locals certainly didn't have the money to go to raves -, and if the town council itself claimed the equipment they would then be forced to take responsibility for running something - even if they could actually market it. And then the money would be taken off them anyway. The original consigner was on the run for being part of the hyper-loan scams going on in Greece.
So the long and short of it was no one wanted to claim ownership of the equipment now.
For her part all that Sandra had ever done was to 'webmaster' sites that located short-term warehouse space in and around London for overseas or distant clients.
Now she possessed a bunch of expensive equipment.
It was never totally hard though, for 'a webmaster' to solicit for and to attract a bit of interest in 'moving something...'
Eventually the ubiquitous London 'kid from Dubai' came in his black Lamborghini with a brief case full of cash - after all: 'it was fun to drive around the east-side of London in a Lamborghini...' 'To remind yourself that there is always something more valuable than money: and that is knowledge...' Or so Tai Lopez might have opined in one of his YouTube videos about the matter of money and wealth; and in this regard London certainly was every bit as good as L.A. of course.
That evening, Sandra had a half a million dollars in cash in her hands, and all the equipment in the warehouse had been moved out by the Dubai kid who had contracted his own removalists and truckers.
So she sat there down on her haunches on the pavement, outside the front door of the empty small warehouse space, a little in shock and thinking back to just a day or so ago, when she was struggling to even make rent...
*
She could see the car slowly coming up the side of the road towards her had its headlights turned off. And she could see that it was a black car, a Rolls Royce. When it stopped, the driver's side suicide door opened and two bare feet were swung out down to the ground first before their owner - a diaphanous fabric pants-d driver - got out. The strange juxtaposition of ethnic clothing and its rare colour tone struck Sandra immediately and she had to take a long hard look and not just because it was a stunning new Rolls Royce Wraith she was looking in the direction of.
It was clearly the figure of a woman, trim but nonetheless shapely, wearing the ethnic salwar kameez - traditional pants and jacket pairing typical of Northern India. And she was wearing that golden chain-string thing from the middle of her head over her hair and down to dangle its jewelled end-piece right over her 'third eye.' But where usually these kinds of ensembles were of contrasting colours with the jacket being some brighter or more prominent colour, this woman was dressed all in an ice-white affair, with the pants made of some kind of fairly see-through cotton jute perhaps, and the jewel tikka, a completely clear crystal stone. The jacket was extremely well-fitted.
There was something awfully familiar about this woman, Sandra thought.
But then again as she walked right up to her Sandra was sure she didn't know her; and she wasn't some celebrity or prominent person either. She looked superficially a bit like your Eva Green assassin type with those high cheekbones and dark eyelashes but then she was more filled out too though; way more muscular, maybe like a svelte female track-and-field athlete type and not so much of the Ronda Rousy type. Her eyes - were piercing blue-gray, almost like jewels themselves.
Sandra was pretty sure that she herself was no lesbian, never had a serious girl-on-girl thought in her whole life. Anything even vaguely close had always ended up with her being saved by some imagined vigorous male character, whose strategy for rescuing her from such ways was a primitive and violently orgasmic heterosexual hyper-fuck.
Yet all the same she still couldn't help but have her eyes drawn to this woman's crotch, for some strangely delicious sexual reason, certainly of course because of the obvious and generous triangle of golden brown pubic hair visible through the diaphanous linen pants. But not just because of one woman's critical eye for another sexy woman; oh no, this was definitely something more than that.
But why; why was she thinking like this at all?
How old was this woman? Not old. Twenties maybe, only; not more...
And then in a moment the girl-woman was right there in front of Sandra, looking down at her and then extending a hand, not to help Sandra up but as if in an expectation of shaking hands.
Sandra got herself up, feeling a little bit under-dressed in her jeans as she was, standing before someone dressed as if for a State function in some foreign embassy. Without thinking she also put her hand out to the other and felt the soft firm grip of someone in total control take her extended hand.
"Hi."
The voice that reached her ears was even and steady, with an out-breath driving the 'h.'
"Hi." Sandra exchanged.
"I watch you from my office up there." The girl-woman indicated with a glance and a half-extended hand upwards toward the skyscraper across the street. "...Most every day; and today I see you've had a brief experience of the famous, or infamous, if you will, young Daoud." She smiled wryly when she said the name 'Daoud.' "So now... I gather you must be rich. Like me. Because I am also rich."
Suddenly the thought of actually being rich struck Sandra fully - which in terms of all of her past life up till now -she was indeed, now certainly rich by comparison with.
Sandra said the next words quietly, almost just to herself: "Yes, I guess I am rich... now."
"That's good." The other woman said. "Because I've wanted for a while to come down and talk to you; like, you know, meet you. Get to know you, maybe... And maybe become friends. I've noticed you for weeks from up there. I worried that perhaps you wouldn't be happy that we could be on an equal footing if you knew that I was really extremely wealthy. I know people say these things shouldn't matter, but they do, you know, practically speaking, they kinda do when it all boils down to it."
"What have you noticed about me," Sandra inquired, squinting one eye at the girl. "Or is that a leading question?" Why'd she even asked this girl that? Sandra caught herself starting to blush.
But the answer that came was innocent. "Well one day I saw you pick up a hatchling dove when it was raining and replace it on the window sill there with a towel wrapped around it."
"Oh." Sandra remembered that. "Yeah I did do that."
"That struck me as a really nice thing to do. I thought you must be a really nice person and I've wanted to meet you ever since."
They stood for a moment just looking at each other in silence before the girl spoke again: "Why don't you come up with me and have a look at my simply amazing offices. Come up and take a look at the lifestyles of the wealthy - now that you're one of us," she jibed. "We can even get dinner up there. If you want..."
Of course Sandra said 'yes.' It was such a seduction, had been such a seduction; Sandra didn't really even care to underline to herself that it was indeed or might have been a seduction. It felt so good to just go along in the moment, to just be talking with this unusual girl-woman, with the piercing gray eyes, who owned the Rolls Royce, and the skyscraper offices. Well certainly compared to the way previously she would have had to have averted her eyes if she stared too long at the obvious wealth of some of the people who walked around London; just out of sheer good manners and not wanting to be seen to be staring.
*
"So what's on the schedule for you now," the other woman said, when they were both seated in the Rolls Royce. "You know what I mean -now that you are rich... Sex - maybe...? That's all that we rich people have left to challenge us, you know." She averred, laughing.
The woman started the car and this time turned the headlights fully on. "You're going to find it presents its own problems to find a man now, I hope you realise - now that every time you meet someone, in the back of your mind you are going to have questions about what they actually see in you once they know you have a lot of cash."
Maybe just fucking? Sandra posited in her head.
"Is that how it is for you?" Sandra questioned. "I must confess though I have never been in this position myself before... But maybe I'm not that wealthy anyway."
"See? You see what I mean? You're already starting to talk and think like a rich person. Ask yourself, last week, would you have thought about the amount of money you have now - is it a small amount, or a very large amount?"
"Oh god yes..."
The Rolls Royce was driven by the woman smoothly just around and around the block, apparently for no absolutely necessary purpose, as far as Sandra could see, since the entrance to the skyscraper's car park was out the front where they had already been to begin with.
