The sun was beating down on the back of my neck, and beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate under my collar. I was wearing a smart black suit, white shirt and blue tie as I strolled through the business centre of London, England. I had a strong feeling of trepidation about what lay ahead of me that day. But to start my story, I need to return to the beginning.
My luck had plummeted over the last few months with losing my previous job, my girlfriend and my bank balance. I reflected back on those recent events as my head dropped. I felt so pathetic.
My girlfriend, Beth, who worked with me at our top consultancy company, had completely played me. She was 5 foot 8, had a fit athletic body and shoulder-length jet-black hair. Her eyes were a captivating blue, wide and alluring, and they stood out over her cute, pert nose and luscious, thick red lips. After dropping me a couple of inviting smiles whilst passing my office pod, I plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. At that point, I thought I had no chance, but she said she would think about it and gave it just the right amount of time to increase my desperation before she agreed. I couldn't, and perhaps shouldn't, have believed my luck.
On our initial dates, mostly in excellent restaurants and movie theatres, as I had a healthy bank balance back then, we had a great time together, laughing and joking. She wasn't getting that close or intimate but seemed to love my company. Every now and then, she would throw a curve ball into the conversation or weave some heavy-handed feminism into a perfectly innocent argument, but other than that, everything seemed ideal in her.
Beth had an amazing presence, and all men stopped whilst jaws dropped when she entered a room at work or on our social outings. She seemed to know so many beautiful women as well, but not once did she offer an introduction. If I pried and enquired who someone was, she would often wave her hand in my face and say, "Oh, just someone from a way back," then move the conversation on.
On one of our earlier dates in a local bar, she was being propositioned by a guy who was clearly pissing her off. I was in a major queue to buy some drinks. As I looked back, my eyes nearly popped in amazement when I saw her flip into a rage, jump up, and kick the guy straight in the chest, toppling him over the railings onto the dance floor. I immediately rushed back to see what was up and if I could help when she responded.
"Oh, nothing, just some idiot pissing me off. Let's get out of here" as calm and composed as you like.
As time passed and our relationship entered the 3-6 month period, she struck me as particularly unpredictable. She seemed to lurch from being a warm, respectful woman to a cold-hearted bitch, who appeared to get off disrespecting me in front of others publicly. Initially, this was quite subtle but increased over our time together. I thought our beautiful albeit brief relationship was ending, and the uncertainty created eroded my self-confidence. I found my demeanour and emotional strength whittling away. She seemed to be able to read my inner feelings in a way that just when I was about to break, she would turn on the kind, warm Beth. Conversely, when I started to feel the relationship was going somewhere, she would bring me crashing down to rock bottom again.
I could give you countless more examples of this switching behaviour, aggressiveness and undermining, but my story starts with one particular event near the end of our courtship and our final date as a couple. This night kept rolling around in my mind like the images were burnt permanently into my short-term memory. My mind didn't want to commit them to the long term until it resolved why she acted in such a way.
Looking back, I feel dumb that I didn't pick up on the signals earlier that she had an alternate agenda all along.
The images spinning through my mind projected when we were in a friendly, relaxed Italian restaurant just 20 minutes from my house. We had strolled there holding hands and exchanging comments about how pleasant the weather had been that day. It was hot and sunny, and even the shade offered temporary relief from the heat. We were having a great positive patch together with minimal mind fucking, so I was in a buoyant mood as we briefly stopped back at the house to drop off several shopping bags. Realising we were running late, she decided we would head straight out for food instead of getting washed and changed.
She was wearing a tight light blue t-shirt accentuating her pretty, firm breasts. I am not good at sizes, but I guess it was around a C cup. The rest of her outfit included high-cut denim shorts, thin white ankle socks and a pair of old beat-up canvas trainers that were perfect for long walks around town, though they looked like they belonged more in a bin than on someone's feet. A little shiver ran through my pelvis as I recalled the glistening sweat film that covered her legs from our exertions that day. I would have given up my prized Rolex watch to jump in bed with her for a couple of hours, but our relationship hadn't reached that level of intimacy.
When we arrived at the restaurant, a beautiful Maître d' quickly approached us, then proceeded to pretty much ignore me and addressed Beth directly.
"Can I offer you a table, Madame?" she enquired.
I felt a little put-down, but then Beth was always the centre of attention, and I thought, just go with the flow. She then ushered us into the main dining area and sat us at a large table in the centre of the room covered with a perfect long white tablecloth and an array of condiments and utensils.
Within the next few minutes, a waitress approached. Once again, she seemed to offer almost all her attention to Beth and barely addressed me. That said, in the few glances I did get, I thought she could easily be a relative of Beth. She had the same jet black hair but this time cut into a graduated 60s Vidal Sassoon style bob. Beautiful chiselled cheeks, a little pert nose, and those same large, captivating blue eyes. She must have been around 5 foot 6, a little shorter than Beth, and wore a high-cut classic black dress, tan pantyhose and somewhat inexplicable filthy beat-up old white trainers. I assumed she must wear them for comfort as the management wouldn't approve of such footwear in such a nice restaurant.
"I am Lucy, your waitress for the evening", she said to Beth, flicking her what looked like an odd, knowing smile, but I thought no more of it. "Can I get you drinks?"
Beth asked me what I wanted and ordered 2 orange juices to help us cool down from our previous excursions. Lucy, the waitress, then disappeared rapidly to get the drinks.
Beth and I then exchanged more small talk about the day's passing, focusing her attention on the 3 or 4 expensive gifts I had purchased for her that day. 3 items of Welsh gold jewellery, including a bracelet, matching necklace and earrings) together with a bloody expensive designer handbag. She seemed distracted, and her mood flitted from her previous warm demeanour to something colder, distant, and frankly rude.
As we sat there talking in the restaurant and looking over the menu, deciding what to choose, the waitress had stopped by unobtrusively and propped a bread basket and butter on the edge of the table, looking at me briefly to see if we knew what we wanted or needed more time. I motioned that we needed another 10 to 15 minutes, and she disappeared into the restaurant to assess the needs of other tables.
When I looked back at Beth to pick up on our prior conversation about food choice, her demeanour had changed. Her eyes narrowed with a spiteful resentment, and her mouth went from a warm smile to an aggressive, nasty sneer. My mind went into chaos mode. What had I done wrong? Not this again and in such an open public place. Did she think I was coming onto the waitress or something?
"Butter me some bread, NOW!" she snorted.
"A thanks would be nice. What's wrong, Beth?" I retorted somewhat uncomfortably, trying to pacify the atmosphere that was building.
