A Midnight Flit

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It had been just under a month since Abigail had moved in, and the sex was still at the ‘wow!’ stage. And that wow had a capital double u. I lay in the dark utterly satisfied. God knows how long we’d been at it, but the luminous hands of my alarm clock told me it was 1.30am. I should be asleep; I had work in the morning.

“I love you,” I whispered, and rolled away from her.  She murmured something similar, showing me she was already dozing. I covered my eyes with the crook of my arm and felt myself drifting off to sleep.

But I never got there. I sensed movement first, then heard it. Just as crazy, semi-lucid dreams were replacing consciousness I realised Abigail was getting out of bed. I turned to see her beautiful bum exit the room. Toilet, I guessed, or maybe a glass of water; she’d be back soon. But then I heard something I wasn’t expecting; the sound of the front door closing. Abi had left the flat.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, maybe I’d imagined it. I listened for the sound of Abi’s footfalls, but all I heard was a car door slam and an engine spring to life.

She’d gone. I got up and went to the toilet before padding in to the kitchen to see if she’d left a note or any clues to the reasons for her midnight flit. But there was nothing. I scratched my balls, and rubbed my hair. Where the hell was she going?

I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Why had she walked out on me?

I thought back through the sex. Had I been a selfish lover again? If I had, then she was a brilliant actor.  Did I use the wrong name? Had I called her Cyndi? God she’d gone through the roof the other time I did that, and that wasn’t even during sex. I didn’t think I’d used any name, but who knows what pops out in the heat of the moment. I sat in bed staring at the shadows on the wall, listening for her car to bring my woman back. But the street was quiet.

I reached for my phone and dialled her number. It rang on the bedside table next to me.  She hadn’t taken her phone. But I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Did that mean she was coming back? Or did she not want me to find her.

I got up again and went in to the kitchen. I ran the tap and filled a glass of water and looked out of the window and at the empty parking space where her car had been.

Then a light swept into the street. A car, was it her car? No, it drove on by. I realised my heart was really rushing, my head aching. Another car pulled in to the street and I finally breathed out. It was her. I watched her pull up and reverse into the space expertly. Even in my confused state I was a little jealous at her driving ability. She skipped across the road and let herself into the building.

“Oh hi,” she said on seeing me in the living room. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Where’ve you been?” I asked, trying to sound as cool as possible.

“Twenty-four hour Tesco,” she said, taking her clothes off.

“Why?”

“I needed some tights for work tomorrow,” she said. “Can I have some of that?” She pointed to the water. I handed her the glass. “You should be asleep; you’ve got an important meeting tomorrow.” She said. She took my hand and led me back to bed.

“Love you,’ she said as she curled up next to me. Moments later she was snoring contentedly, leaving me wondering who the weird one was.

The Mac

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“I'm naked under this coat,” she whispered, and fixed me with those grey-green eyes. Pippa was wearing one of those old American detective style macs and a cheeky grin. I was desperate to look down, but I kept eye contact.
“Completely?” I asked, trying not to look over excited.
“Completely,” she confirmed. This time I did look her up and down. There was no way of telling if there were clothes under her coat or not. My brain whirred. Why was Pippa naked? Why was she telling me this?

They say if a penny falls from a great height, it can kill a person. Well, the penny that had just dropped in my head was certainly lethal. She was flirting with me. This didn't happen. What should I do?  I was hopeless at flirting.
The busy pub hummed around us; people talking about work, dissertations and affairs and completely unaware that the most beautiful girl in the world was in amongst them in a state of undress, and the nerdiest man in the world was in a state of panic.  She flicked her curly blonde hair out of her face.
“Why?” I asked. It was the best I could do, and I needed to keep the conversation going.
“I thought it might be fun,” she said.
“And is it?”
She licked her luscious lips. “Oh yes.”

“Does Zack know?” Zack was Pippa’s boyfriend. My nemesis.

“No, and he’s never going to find out.”

My brain was working overtime. I was beginning to believe that after months of dreaming, my dreams might come true.

 “I don't believe you.” I said.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, but you might just be joking. I'm not as gullible as I look you know?”
“It's true,” she said. “Not even little lace panties.”
I blushed. Why did I blush? She’d only said panties. 

“Prove it,” I said bravely.

“Here?” Her eyes fixed me again.

I looked over my shoulder.

“The smokers’ garden is empty.” I said, taking out a box of cigarettes, but I didn’t expect her to say yes.

“Come on then.”

We stood up and went to the back and out into the small enclosed area for those addicted to nicotine. My head was beating and my palms sweaty. She turned her back to the pub and lit the cigarette I offered her. I lit mine and looked at her expectantly.

She fumbled with her belt and let her coat fall open. I kept looking into those smiling eyes.

“Believe me now?”

I didn’t look, I wanted to look, I knew that inches away was a real life naked woman. I could smell her skin, but my eyes remained fixed on hers. I took a long drag of cigarette smoke. We exhaled together. She took a step back revealing the gentle curves of her delicious body to me. She sure was naked except for black high heeled shoes.  

“Wow!”

She laughed and stepped forwards so out bodies were almost touching.

“Can I touch?” I said.

“Later,” she promised. She dropped her cigarette and used a shiny black stiletto heel to put it out. “We’d better get back.”

I put out my smoke and we headed back inside. I could hardly contain my excitement. However long later was, it couldn’t come soon enough.  

In the Mirror

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2.37am.

The street was bathed in a bluish hue; that summer night light that never gets black-dark. Mia breathed out, a cloud of smoke circling above her. Her right hand moved from her cheek to her mouth. She took another long drag of her cigarette as she watched the street down below. The tobacco crackled, and she could feel the heat as the tip grew closer to the the filter. The city before her seemed frozen in time; suspended in night time animation.

She heard him come into the bright room, her body tensed as she took another drag. His steps sounded heavy on the parquet floor, but she knew he was tiptoeing across the room.  She closed her eyes and listened to his lustful breathing. She knew what he wanted, what he’d come to claim. His hands rested on her shoulders. His strong thumbs massaging the knotty muscles in her neck. He could rub all he wanted there was no way he’d untangle that weave of sinew that he’d help to create. His kissed the top of her head as he continued exploring her neck and shoulder with his hands.

Where was his wife? Blissfully asleep, unaware of this intrusion. Or only pretending to be unconscious; crying gently as her husband snuck out of bed to impose himself on the nanny. Did she think Mia was complicit in the arrangement? Or was the wife complicit herself? Did she know that Marcus took what he wanted with threats of violence or unemployment or both?

Mia lit another cigarette and inhaled. She heard the zip of her dress being undone. Marcus ran a finger down her spine. Why the pretence of seduction? Why this game of foreplay? Did it help him convince himself that this was consensual? He was groaning now, moaning gently as he breathed in her young body. She took another drag. The night below her was the only witness to the crime and it seemed to be wilfully looking away. A stray cat strutted across the road nonchalantly. The blue dress fell to the floor so that her near naked form was exposed to the light. She tried not to notice Marcus’s smell, his coarse stubble on her soft skin. His hands beginning to explore areas they had no right to.

She watched that cat, proud and straight.  Her lungs were full of smoke. She held her breath and turned around to face her master. He smiled and moved a strand of hair from her face; it was almost a loving gesture. He went to kiss her lips. She breathed out, blowing a thick plume of smoke into Marcus’s eyes. In the split second that he was blinded she stabbed her cigarette into his cheek.
Lights went on around the block, as Marcus’s scream woke people from their nightmares. But still she didn’t come. Still Marcus’s wife left them to their little game. His little game.

Marcus was no longer interested in her. It was over for tonight at least. She’d hit him where it would hurt him the most – in the mirror.