Helen stood at the edge of the road, the harsh neon lights of the city casting an ethereal glow over her delicate features. Her auburn hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, catching the light and shimmering like liquid gold. Her skin was porcelain smooth, with a hint of rose at her cheeks, and her eyes, a deep, captivating blue, seemed to glow out of her eyeballs.
She wore a simple, yet elegant dress that hugged her lithe, ballerina frame, emphasizing her grace and poise. Even in stillness, there was a fluidity to her, a testament to years of disciplined training and unyielding passion for the art that had shaped her body and spirit even though she was only in her mind twenties. Her posture was confident, shoulders back, head held high as if she were about to step onto a stage rather than wait for a car on the dimly lit street.
Helen glanced at her watch, the slim silver band glinting under the streetlight. The air was cool, carrying a faint hint of the ocean from the nearby coast, and she could hear the distant hum of the city that never quite slept. Despite the late hour, her mind was alert, her thoughts sharp. She was acutely aware of her surroundings, a habit formed from the necessity of the times.
She might live in a time when women's rights had been reduced to a shadow of their former selves but that didn't titter with her confidence which stood out like a beacon of resistance. She was a ballerina, yes, but there was nothing flexible about her character, a woman who would not let the world dictate her spirit.
"Why is he wasting my time?" Helen wondered, her patience wearing thin. She was waiting for Peter Jost, the man she had been secretly seeing for the past month. Peter was no ordinary man; he was a state senator, and his wife held even more power as the Speaker of the National Senate.
Their paths had crossed unexpectedly one late afternoon as Helen was closing her ballet studio. Peter had driven past, his car slowing as he noticed her graceful figure locking the doors. Something about her had caught his attention, compelling him to turn around and introduce himself. The memory of that first encounter was still vivid in Helen's mind.
"Good evening," he had said, stepping out of his sleek, black sedan. "I'm Peter Jost."
Helen had looked up, surprised by the unexpected visitor. "Good evening," she had replied, her voice calm despite the curiosity that flickered in her eyes. "I know exactly who you are. You are a senator."
Peter smiled as those words flowed out of her lips, his position as a renowned politician made it easier for him with women. All he had to do was say Hi, and every girl smiled sheepishly for him.
"Oh, that's lovely. So what's your name, pretty lady." The senator asked her as he put his hands up for a handshake.
Helen was a smart girl and she knew immediately what was going on, coupling the rumors she heard about the senator's casanova nature plus the news on how his wife the speaker of the senate was out of the country visiting a war-torn Taiwan.
"My name is Helen. Nice to meet you." She replied as her hand met his for a handshake.
The senator ran his thumb over the back of her palms and felt her soft hands before kissing her hand and releasing the hold.
"Nice to meet you too," Peter said with a boyish grin on his face. "You are one beautiful young lady and now I just have to get your number. So if you don't mind."
The Senator handed her his phone which she accepted and put in her number with no hesitation. "I need to leave now, I'm already late for an emergency session, I will call you later." He said and hopped back into his car and she watched him ride into the traffic.
Helen recalled how persistent Peter had been over the past month. Despite his demanding schedule, he had made time to see her, showering her with attention and charm. He would send her flowers, invite her to dinners at secluded restaurants, and even attend some of her performances. Yet, Helen had played hard to get, aware of the power dynamics at play.
Peter's interest was flattering, but Helen knew better than to dive headfirst into an affair with a married man, especially one as politically prominent as Peter Jost. She saw a fantastic opportunity not just for a romantic fling but for a significant shift in her own life. If Peter could be convinced to divorce his wife and marry her, Helen imagined herself in the spotlight, the media frenzy painting her as the woman who captured the heart of the state senator and dethroned the Speaker of the National Senate. This was her best shot at fame in a world that treated women like fame, if the senator wasn't married then he might have fucked her by now whether she wanted him or not. This was a world where a man as powerful as he was could rape her and easily get away with it but since he was married to arguably the most powerful woman in the country he was restrained just because of who he was married to.
Helen had set her terms clearly from the beginning. "If you want this to go any further, you need to divorce your wife and marry me," she had told him one evening, her voice steady and unwavering.
Peter had looked taken aback at first but soon realized she was serious. Over the next few weeks, he had doubled his efforts, trying to convince her of his genuine affection. Helen, while enjoying the attention, remained firm. She was acutely aware of the power she held and was determined to use it to her advantage.
In her flashback, Helen could still see the determination in Peter's eyes as he promised to make the necessary arrangements. The allure of power and the promise of a new, influential life kept her steadfast in her demands.
Helen's flashback was interrupted as Peter's car pulled up and the window wound down. "Get in," Peter said, his voice gentle yet urgent.
Helen crossed her arms, a frown creasing her forehead. "You're late," she snapped, her anger evident.
Peter gave her a contrite look. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, his tone soothing. "Traffic was a nightmare, and there were some last-minute calls I had to take."
