The secret is in the position

Here's a short piece I did for my writing group. We did an exercise in observation on State street,  and this is what became of it.

The secret is position. A well placed observatory. I can see The Mexicana, Portifino, and The Popcorn shop. Across the street is coffee claiming the art of the bistro served in liquid genius.

I always bring two crisp Grant’s folded two by two inside the brass money clip. That I use to paint a portrait, not to buy my meal.

Me, silver and sophisticated, beyond the metro sexual, I am everything that a woman desires.

 I watch them, it’s entertainment you can’t buy. Beautiful families walk by. A young mother fulfilling her dreams with her handsome man by her side, two darling dark haired girls in hand.

 Broadway Billy walks past, sliding his feet in oversize gym shoes. Bleary eyed and as I, on the prowl. Billy lives here, always here jimjanging his thoughts. He says he can’t stand a cart. “All those other people on the street got to have a cart.” Billy says, “A tee shirt and a toothbrush is all anybody needs.”

Truth is, he would swap them both for a bottle. I know, I get some wine for him if the mark is right, if she is really good.

You need to watch. To know her story just by the lessons she trails on the sidewalk all around her.

And there she is. She has a lypo suction ass and expensive tits.

She stands outside, hesitates, wishes she had someone to desire her, to decide for her. I see it in her eyes and her little frown. The shyness of a woman taught that a woman alone is hot to trot. And she knows it’s true, for her.

She walks back and forth, window shops the people inside. How desperately she wishes she knew someone, someone from her second life, and she scans all the faces to be sure no one from her first life, when she was married to him, is there. Her stance ready to bound, her hand by her face to cover it.

 Now self-conscious she gathers herself and tells herself she won’t die in the big house, she will come back outside, and have a life.

The Mexicana. Her choice made, she seats herself at the outdoor table. Smiling falsely for her much more than the patrons. The Mark is made.

I stand up and fairly spring to her table.  “Heidi! I sorry, so late.”

She stares at me coldly, frightened. She reaches for her purse but I put my hand on hers. I give her a dreamy look. “Oh. You are not Heidi.” I apologize in Spanish. “Forgive me, I have an American friend and I don’t know the restaurant we meet.”

I wait until she forms a word with her lips.

“I will have to light a candle when I return to Barcelona.” I say.

She hesitates, her eyes following my eyes and I look down, encouraging her to walk her peepers down my neck, along my chest and over my leather pants. Tight leather pants. “To ask forgiveness of my thoughts just now.”

The waiter comes over and I begin to paint.

 I pull out the money clip and peel a bill. “How much is this?” I ask.

She takes my hand and brings it to my chest. I cup it sensually and exhale, making the muscles ripple under the black silk.

She smiles and laughs. “Let me help you.” Her gaze hungry and fresh with the commencement of new found pleasure.

Broadway Billy takes a seat in the gutter across the street. The scraps of the kill nearby.

“I am Enrique, from Barcelona. I am scared I don’t know where I sit.”

“You mean afraid. Afraid you don’t know where you are.” She leans toward me and arches her back, the new assets earning their way. I stare right at them, huddled in the low cut Prada. Trophies held inside a trophy case; to show her how pleased I am with her investment.

Hours pass before I sit down in the gutter next to Billy, hang my head in my hands. He doesn’t ask, he never does. Instead I shake my head, “I had her, and I had her good.” 

“What happened then?” Billy asked.

“She excused herself, and looked hungrily over her shoulder at me. I kissed my hand and blew it to her. I knew right there I had a free meal and some good bedroom games.”

“And?”

“She went inside, came out the far door, and gave me the finger.”

Billy whooped a laugh, quickly changing over to a liquid cough. “Pay up, a bet is a bet.”

I handed over the last Grant. Busted twice at once. Shelia is going to be pissed.