She sits at a corner table all by herself. Pretending to be waiting for someone. She has a drink in front of her and a tiny, glittery purse, set on the table. Checking the phone now and then….maybe a boyfriend who keeps her waiting?
I have been watching her for a few minutes now, through the maze of moving bodies. She stands out in the busy pub, in a black dress that flatters her svelte frame, giving off just a hint of her cleavage. Her hair falls over her shoulders in gentle waves and her lips glossed-pink, parts seductively now and then as she samples the tiny pieces of little some things from a plate of hors d’oeuvre.
She intrigues me, and I want to talk to her. Yeah, before the boyfriend arrives.
Feeling a little bold after downing two pegs of whiskey on the rocks, I set off to strike up a conversation.
“May I”, I ask pointing at the empty chair.
She smiles coyly and says, “You may, until my friend arrives”.
“Someone special?” I ask as I settle down in the chair, signalling a waiter.
“Maybe,” she says playfully as she licks sauce from her fingers.
“So what brings you here, drinking alone on a Friday night?”
“Plans with work friends gone askew, family emergency”, I explain.
“Banker?” she asks raising her arched brows.
“Lawyer”.
“Wow” she retorts, “the type who can write off a murder?”
I laugh and order, another glass of whiskey and a Screwdriver for her.
“So what are you upto”, I ask as I gauge her with my eyes.
“Researcher, Medieval romance.”
Wow I say genuinely surprised, “my wife used to be a professor of Literature specializing in the Medieval era.”
“That’s great…where does she teach now?”
Err…I stammer “she passed away a few months back”.
“Oh that’s sad”, she says stretching her hand to squeeze mine.
“Freak accident I say…” as I shift in my seat looking for a diversion.
She understands and changes the subject.
I understand that there is no one coming.
I imagine her sun-kissed body without the dress, entwined into mine. I doubt if she is an academic, she appears to be a far cry from the nerdy type.
We spend one good hour at the table, engaging in playful banter, teasing, flirting.
I drink in limitation with the prospect of driving an hour to reach home playing a spoiler. She gets more brazen with every drink.
“Can we go somewhere?” she asks sheepishly.
“My home?” I blurt out awkwardly.
Are you sure? I ask as we walk towards the parking.
“Absolutely”! she says planting a wet kiss on my lips, her fragrant body brushing against mine.
I can’t wait to reach home and get my hands on her; it’s been three long months since I have been with a woman. Playing the hapless widower, garnering all the sympathy I deserve. I had moved well through the ranks since, becoming a partner from the humble associate- at the ripe age of 35. This woman is gonna be a gamble, but who cares…I have maintained a squeaky clean image so far.
The playlist picks up She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert .
She starts humming to herself and ask me “ what is your take on gay love”?
Now, now where does that come from? I say as I shift in my seat.
“Medieval romance,” she says with a wicked laugh.
I heave a sigh of relief.
“Did your wife believe in it?”
“What ?”
“Same sex love?”
“Why do you ask?” I retort feeling irritated.
Oh, that’s because I had been your wife’s lover once.
“What the fuck? If this is a joke I am certainly not enjoying it,” I say trying hard to keep my cool.
She loved her students….some a little more than others.
“Would you like me to drop you somewhere….”I ask her as I drive through the middle of nowhere. I have lost my appetite in her, my stomach churn with an unknown fear. Who is she and how much does she know? Media, blackmailer, a spy planted by one of the partners?
She would smuggle me now and then to your pretty little house, while you were not there…. busy as you were with your blonde little secy? And then one night when you stormed in unannounced…getting whiff of our affair, trying to catch us in the act.
I can’t breathe anymore…neither can I keep my eyes on the road.
She hid me in that tiny little terrace; where you keep your potted plants…from where I watched you pull her by the hair and drag her out of the room, because you had seen my coat lying on the sofa. I didn’t see what happened next…I didn’t hear the thud, see the fall, how she looked sprawled in her own pool of blood. I had escaped by then.
I press the break hard, as the curve looms into view. It is too late…the car swerves and turns turtle….shards of glass pierce through me. As I feel excruciating pain rip me, in a state of daze I look through half-closed eyes at the empty passenger seat.
