Scarlett

Scarlett was on the hunt; lurking behind her rose illustrated book she scanned the café. The barista stirred behind the coffee machine, but his piercings and tattoos over qualified him. Two women giggled behind her as they blushed and made eyes at the two university boys across the room. ‘Juveniles’ Scarlett thought. Her eyes discovered a prime candidate, his presence whispered in the corner. The hand that held the conservative newspaper that his eyes caressed bore a wedding ring, this presented a challenge, and Scarlett accepted. His face seemed new enough, although it wore the worry of a few defining points. His brand name shirt settled it; he was just what she was looking for.

She focused all her energy on him, yearning for him to turn and make the initial glance that would provide her all the information that she needed. His phone rang. He sighed, then answered.
“Yes Darling?… I’m eating lunch…a sandwich…coffee…no it’s fine, it’s only a regular…oh, that’s tonight?... Can I stay home?... You take the kids…ok, fine…”
Upon this last submission he rolled his eyes and turned his head. Halfway through this movement he paused, confronted by the image Scarlett presented. Her eyes met his and they didn’t back away, she read what she could from his stare. His eyes were tired, and empty. But they held a glimmer behind the fatigue. He hung up when the formulated responses had ceased. Scarlett smirked, testing her boundaries and he returned with a polite smile. Paying more attention to his mouth she could see lines that suggested words repeated, a lifetime of predicted conversation.

Feeling comfortable in her position, Scarlett closed her book and approached the man. As she shifted through the café, the sweet scent she bore encapsulated the area around her. He followed her movements, afraid of her initiation. Yet still, she moved closer feeding off her awareness of his reluctance. She reached his table, ran her eyes down his figure and landed back on his own.
‘So you’re one of those men’
‘Those men?’
‘You read conservative newspapers, wear Ralph Lauren shirts and buy the same thing for lunch every day; you bicker with the wife that society and social class chose for you and hug the children who only further that brand’
He smirked, an insulted smirk, angry that she had peered into what his life had become. She didn’t smile back. Instead she shifted her hair away from her eyes making them painfully present. The honey tones were highlighted in the light that seeped through the window. She relished in the position she had placed him in, the offensive manner that told her she was right.
‘So you think you know the kind of person that I am’
‘Aren’t you that guy? The guy who submits to what is normal and removes all spontaneity?’
To this he had no response, instead he followed her once more as she glided the opposing chair out of its place and fit herself into its grooves. The conversation ensued. She did not highlight any features of herself and instead, focused on him. To her, he was just a man. He had no family, no wife, and no life outside of the world she would create for him. To him, she was a beautiful escape. One that awoke parts of himself that had been dormant for years. He watched her attentively as she giggled at his jokes in a suppressive manner, as if to stifle the uncovering of what really makes her laugh. He watched her tongue massage the words that would exit her full lips, describing just what he needed them to say. And tomorrow they would accidently meet again.

Scarlett waited in his chair at two minutes to one. The familiar air of coffee beans surrounded her position. She took a moment to look into the stained glass window and inhale, then she closed her eyes. She looked at the antique clock that occupied the wall, one minute to one. Then she turned to the door and saw his figure. She winked a hello and he responded to her demand of company. He nervously passed the counter of the shop, nodding to the man behind the coffee machine. This was how he placed his order, as by this stage in his routine no intricacies were needed. He placed his shaking hands in his pockets and sauntered over to her.
‘Hello’
The greeting left his mouth in a neglected manner, as if he had not placed any thought on how this occurrence would play out. Truthfully she had not left his mind. From the start of his lunch period the day before until he turned his back on his wife at night, she was there. Even in moments when he could not picture her face anymore as a result of over recount, her scent filled his lungs. She was there with him as he showered at night, drank his morning coffee and even on his commute. He begged whatever higher forces he thought he believed in for her to be there the next day. When he saw her, he was scared. He was scared of his own motives more than he was of hers. Only then becoming conscious of the length of the silence that he was partaking in, but not realising because he was scanning her body, replacing all the details that his mind had eluded, he noticed she had not responded. She had not even smirked, but she was looking at him in a piercing way. She removed herself from his seat and rested her hand on his belt as she pressed her tender lips onto his cheek. They felt just as he imagined they would. She lingered as if to let him savour the moment. Then, she sat back down and motioned to the seat she had occupied the day before. He sat just after she had indicated that it was his place.

The conversation they were having had nothing to do with the words leaving their mouths. It was all about the way she was moving her body and the encouragement he was giving her. When she leaned forward and grazed his arm, a main component of her initiation and assessment of character, he placed his hand on hers and watched the delicacies of it move on his body. The moment of subtle touches awoke all the nerve endings in his body and his anticipation grew more and more. This practice continued over a span of two weeks. Every day they met for lunch and every day she tempted him. Every night he went to his house and thought about the way she functioned, the way she drew him in by her words and even more, by the pauses that she took in between them.

One day she invited him to release the energy that was pent up. She waited for him and at one to one he walked in. The scent that followed him was a new one. One that had built up over the time they were spending together. He added a little more every day, and she was noticing. Scarlett lifted her keys from their table and met him before he could reach the counter. She took his hand and walked him to her car. He did not say anything and he did not object. Instead, he took her hand back and caressed it with a tense pressure. They sat in silence as she drove in familiar directions. He was excited to see the environment that she came from. The bed that held her at night and the mirror that reflected her curvaceous figure. But as the journey progressed he observed that she lies closer to him at night then he had thought. They were turning into his street, and they were pulling into his driveway. She turned off the engine and looked at him through the corners of her eyes. His heart was racing and his hands had resumed the shaking they had begun to stop doing throughout their meetings together. She had again thrown him off. She giggled, opened her door and closed it behind her, walking towards the entrance to his house. He reluctantly did the same. All the details of his worries and fears were not clear, but they were definitely there. He turned the key in the door, entered the alarm code and then just watched her.

She turned around and walked around completely comfortable in his surroundings. She touched things in his house that he wouldn’t, photo frames, vases and trinkets. She was more comfortable here than he was. Her back was turned to him as she peered into a photo that had him and his children in it and he approached her from behind. He ran his hand down her back while they trembled. He caressed the form of her body, paying attention to every inch that made up her silhouette, all the elements that ravished his thoughts. Her neck was exposed as her hair lay to one side and he inhaled the intoxicating scent that she had. It was at this moment that he led her to his bedroom.

The room was full of his and hers components. Bath robes, dressers, closets. It was a room that screamed partnership yet there were no photos. She disregarded the nature of the room and pushed him across the bed, not paying attention to which side was his. She lay on top of him moving to areas that she knew he needed her to be in contact with. She knew just what amount of pressure to apply and when to stop. As this was the final moment of encouragement that he needed to really indulge in the part of his mind that he silenced for too long, he took control. All the worries and fears he had of being in his family’s home with her had escaped him. He forgot that his wife’s perfume bottle lay a meter away and that she slept in the very bed he was dishonouring her in. Scarlett was his focus, and this was now their place. They indulged in the passions until they were entirely satisfied. They were lying in his wife’s bed, and Scarlett was rubbing his chest as she looked up at him. They were lying in his wife’s bed and Scarlett’s scent had been spread across the entire thing. They were lying in his wife’s bed and for the first time in years, both people were entirely satisfied.

After an hour, she moved. She put all her clothes back on, and her image was re-established. Although now she looked different. Contrary to regular practices, now that he had her, he wanted her only more. He wanted her on every part of his being like before, yet now he wanted her in every part of his life. This was something that he never felt for his wife, and had long since felt for another woman. She left him lying there with a tender kiss as she had done weeks before, their first touch of intimacy. He lay there for another hour alone, going over what had just happened in his mind. The feelings that she made him feel and the noises he had made her make as she bit her lip. The intensity was overwhelming for him at the time, and now it seeped into his blood stream and had become addictive. When his wife came home they exchanged pleasantries and began their daily routines. She asked how his day had been and he gave her his formulated response even though his mind was electric with the truths he was covering. When he looked at his wife he did not feel as though he had cheated. He did not feel as though he was obligated to her in any way. Now he had somebody who cared about his satisfaction and about the way he needed to feel. When he lay in bed that night, these were the thoughts that surrounded him as he inhaled the scent Scarlett had left on his side of the bed.

The happenings of that afternoon continued for another month. The days that they attended to their desires were chosen at random by her and he followed. The more he was around her, the more he needed to be and these afternoons were the perfect way to satisfy his requirements to press her body against his, being as close as they could possibly be. Infatuation was an understatement, she was all he was and he loved it. Over this next month and the week following he made a decision he thought that she was waiting for and decided that the next day would be ideal for letting her know what he was thinking.

They met in their café, at their table and sat in their seats. They began their discussions of deeper things and she still positioned herself in ways that would highlight just where he had touched her and would tempt him more. The lull in the conversation that was generally allowed for their bodies to tell of what they were thinking was today interrupted by the decision he made.
‘I’m leaving my wife, well I’ve already left her. I explained everything two nights ago and have since been organising my new life without her in it.’
‘You left your wife.’
She was not surprised by this statement, but she was entertained. She proceeded to provide him with all the reactions that she assumed he wanted to see though, relief, excitement and shock. He believed every part of her performance as being genuine. He went on to explain himself. A typical response that loosely resembled his having slept walked through his life before she showed up, and reminded him of the passions that he could feel. He wanted to be with her everyday just so he could continue to feel those passions that she was to be thanked for. Over the time that they had been spending together, their only contact was initiated through her. They met near his work, went to his house and he was always the recipient of the scarce phone calls that were made. That day, after he declared his new life and the main point of wanting her as the central component, they concluded their lunch. She kissed him tenderly on the cheek as she rested her hand on his belt and he went to work.

The next day it was one o’clock and he was sitting in his seat. She was not there. She was in a bar across town reading her rose illustrated book. Scarlett was on the hunt.