Smudges

Her mascara had run; washed away by raindrops and tears of anger.

She wiped it away with the back of her wet hand and smeared black all over the sleeve of her new pinstriped shirt.

The smudges looking like melted tar on a newly surfaced road.

She increased her pace wanting to put more and more distance between her and them.

Hitting a running pace, her feet slippery in stiletto's, she moved about on unsure feet. She had slammed the front door so hard when she stormed out of his castle that the windows of the whole top floor rattled as if an earthquake had just struck the penthouse. In a way she was glad for the rain, it washed away the paw prints on her skin.

The streets she ran through, were deserted; black tar glistening under a silver moon as she made her way further away from him and from them.

Them with their overpowering scent of entitlement.

Them with their loud boisterous laughter and their carbon copy suits.

Them with their gluttony and hunger unfettered under the roof of the king among them.

He pranced around like a peacock surveying his kingdom and his kings men.

"Damn heels!" she thought, just before she twisted her ankle.

"Eina!" she yelped, the pain tearing through her as she fell hitting her knee on gritty asphalt.

Her stockings torn, giant holes appeared in the sheer blackness that hugged her legs like a second skin. She had paid a pretty penny for it, and now it was ruined, along with everything else.

Peter walked into the offices of Jensen & Rosseau Realtors owning the place.

Jan knew he was her 3 o'clock because she had googled him as soon as her receiver hit the cradle following his inquiring about a business property for lease in the CBD that had caught his attention.

She drooled over his profile pic on Who's Who SA and he looked even better animated and commanding standing in front of her.

Jan held out her hand.

He held out his.

And the world went boom!

The flicker of desire in his eyes as he looked at her from across her desk, threw her: 10 seconds of want revealed as eyes locked.

She sat down, rocked back in her chair, her diary open, her pen shaking.

His phone buzzed...

"Oh thank god!" she thought, happy for the interruption, composing herself.

"This is business, he is a client!" she reprimanded herself, smoothing her hand self-consciously over the front of her shirt.

She heard him say his goodbyes, end the call and he sauntered back to her desk.

But kept standing.

"May I?" he asked, indicating he wanted to come around.

"Of course," she said gesturing at him to come round, thinking he wanted to view the property on screen.

He came closer and leaned against the side of her desk, his back towards the screen, his arms folded, his leg brushing against hers.

"We'll meet at the property tomorrow at 2, yeah? You'll show me around, and I'll send my lawyer to complete the formalities after."

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you through the specs and financials," she asked.

"I'm sure," he said and pointed to his phone, "something has come up that requires my attention immediately."

"See you at 2 at reception, I'll organise a parking spot for you in front of the building," Jan said, getting up to shake hands goodbye.

He held onto her hand, deep in thought, she could see the wheels turning, "you'll come, later Friday night and we'll celebrate! I'll send my driver for you at 9."

He made his intentions clear, he was unambiguous and unapologetic. It was about sex. She could say "no" and he would walk away.

"Away from the deal?" she asked, not sure how far she was willing to go.

He laughed a throaty laugh, "No, I never walk away from a good deal," he said, I keep my business and my pleasure apart.

Her eyes betrayed her.

His lines were cliched and her responses were embarrassingly obvious.

Her hand became warm in his.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said.

He walked away; but came back looking her squarely in the face:

"Love a woman in stockings," he said.

"In black," he insisted.

She listened, wanting to please him.

She had a lot too lose: her commission, her reputation, herself, if this liaison went pear shaped.

Her choice wasn't easy, but it was made: black stockings chosen for a man with a black heart and dark intentions.

His driver escorted her as far as the elevator, pressed P and she ascended, her heart beating faster the higher it climbed. She shuddered in anticipation, their meeting went well, the formality of business like foreplay.

The doors opened onto the entrance hall filled with noise and smoke.

"A party," she felt a wave of relief and disappointment wash over her at the same time. The front door stood ajar and she pushed it open gently hoping that he'd be the first person she'd see.

He was.

She saw him wedged between two tall, beautiful blondes:

Peter's hands on her ass.

Peter's face nuzzling his neck.

3 People moving in unison; a collection of arms and legs.

She looked around at the figures moving around her in waves, felt unfamiliar hands on her back, her arms, her thighs.

He saw her standing there frozen, she saw his eyes cast thick with desire.

He walked towards her.Reaching her he reached out; she took a step back, knocking into someone standing too close behind her.

He grabbed at her hand: "I knew I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, knew I wanted to share this with you!"

He waved his hands over his world.

"Come here, honey," he said to the tall blonde woman, "this is the woman I promised you."

The blonde beauty groped at Jan, drawing Peter with her.

Jan took another step back.

A frown crossed his handsome face, anger crossed hers, turning her ugly.

Their desire for her an insult.

"This...this is not what I..."

She left them standing there, slamming the door on their world, she wanted no part of it.

The rain continued to pour down in huge drops, thudding against shop fronts. She saw the sign of the restaurant flashing bright red, Sinfull.

She laughed at the irony.

The patrons inside looked cozy in the intimate space. They saw her go down through misty windows and rushed out to help her.

She started giggling at the absurdity of her situation, couldn't help herself.

People looked at her questioningly, politely trying not to laugh; her tumble had been absurd and epic.

Then they saw the red, and murmurs of concern echoed through the small crowd at the gashes in her knees and elbows.

The pavement had drawn blood.

A waiter bent down using a dish cloth to dab at her scrapes.

"Are you okay, miss?"he asked.

"Yes," she said, examining her nails, her red nail polish had chipped when she reached out to stem her fall.

He held out his hand and helped her up, holding her steady, "Come inside and we'll fix you up quick quick," he said with kind eyes.

She leaned against him as he steered her to safety wondering how she would get home.

"Don't worry, miss" said her knight, "we'll see that you make it home safely."

Around her the small crowd gathered, their smiles warm and genuine putting entitlement and greed in it's rightful place.