The theme: Twisted Love. The word count: 1500 max. A more suburban form of 'twisted,' perhaps, but hopefully it does the job... oh, and I should probably put in a heads-up - since it IS on the subject of 'twisted love'... not exactly one for your churchgoing mums to read...
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She was at the perfume shelf the first time I saw her; a
quiet little thing in a coat that was too big for her, hiding her face under a
waterfall of long, red hair.
That was all it took to make me want her.
I watched her eyes scan the row of bottles until she
stopped at the pink one with the fancy crystal stopper; a French perfume called
‘Seduction’ that was our best seller. It had rose and vanilla in it, and since
I started working here I’d seen lots of women buy it. It made me angry when
they were fat or ugly women; a perfume of that quality was wasted on them. But this
girl was worthy of it; she deserved to smell as beautiful as she looked. She picked
it up with a smile, and I imagined her spraying it onto her wrists, her neck…
and other secret, sexy places…
And then she saw me watching her. Her body tensed, and
her face froze with uncertainty. Perhaps she was afraid of what I’d do. I smiled
right back into her beautiful eyes, sending her a message in my mind that she
shouldn’t be afraid of me. That she could trust me.
“Danny, have you finished putting out those
suppositories yet?”
Mr Blane, my boss, was heading towards me looking pissed
off - as usual. I’ve always had a problem with daydreaming on the job, and that
made me a slacker in his eyes. He pointed to the crate at my feet, still
half-full. “You’re not even halfway through” he snapped “what the hell have you
been doing?” Before I could answer he picked up the crate and thrust it into my
hands. “Get a move on, or I’m going to start docking your pay.”
He was still muttering as he stomped back up to the
counter. I turned back to the perfume shelves, but my angel was gone. Did she get
that fragrance after all? Maybe she’d come back again.
I hoped she would.
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I saw her regularly after that. She came in almost every
day, in her secondhand coat, giving me occasional shy glances as she browsed
the shelves. I think she knew I was looking out for her, because she didn’t try
to hide anything from me anymore. She’d let me watch her trying out cosmetic
samples in front of the mirror; painting hot pinks and reds onto her lips and
pressing them together… like she knew I wanted to kiss them. Or she went to the underwear section and picked
up lacy bras and thongs, holding them against herself to imagine how she’d look
in them. And she knew I was imagining that too. She’d glance sideways at me and
smile, knowing I was picturing her wearing them in her bedroom at home. I don’t
know if she knew how much further my fantasies went though. Did she know that
in my head I peeled all that underwear off and screwed her right there on her
bed? And that, back in the real world, those were the times I ached so hard for
her I had to sneak into the bathroom for a while before I could concentrate on
work again?
I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know how much I
needed her. But it was too risky. If Mr Blane knew I was watching her he’d get
suspicious – and I was in enough trouble with him already.
I’d have to pick my moment carefully.
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And then I got that damn virus and had to call in sick.
It was only for a couple of days – but they were the worst two days of my life.
Was she missing me? I was certainly missing watching
her. What if Mr Blane had started watching her too, while I wasn’t there? Oh
god, no…
By the third day I still felt terrible, but I went back
to work anyway. I couldn’t stay away any longer. Of course Mr Blane didn’t
appreciate my efforts.
“You look like death” he grunted as I stood in front of
him with throbbing sinuses. “You can’t go out on the shop floor like that. Stay
in the stockroom for today; you can tidy it up and check the inventory. At
least that way no-one’ll see you.”
And I wouldn’t see her either. I wanted to argue, but
the look on his face told me that was a bad idea.
I waited until the
stockroom door slammed behind me before I kicked the wall in frustration. Now I
was stuck in this poky little room on my own for the rest of the day. A room
filled with shelves of crap, and Blane’s stupid desk with a crappy old tv on
it…
Hang on…
That tv was connected to the security cameras out on the
shop floor! I could still see her, even in here. And even better, I could lock
the door. Total privacy. No need to worry if she got me all steamed up again…
I had to wait a couple of hours before she finally came
in. She looked around a few times - like she was looking for me – and then
headed for the pharmacy shelves. By this time I’d figured out how to stop the
view cycling through the different security cameras, so it would stay on just
one for as long as I wanted. I found the one that showed her facing the camera,
and zoomed in a little to get a better view. She was standing by what Mr Blane
called the Intimate Products, and as she reached out towards the shelves I
could feel myself getting harder. What was she going to choose? My hand was
already hovering over the zipper of my flies as she picked something up – a
small box, with gold writing on it. I had to zoom in a little further to see
what it was.
It was a box of condoms.
Wait a second, that didn’t make any sense…
We hadn’t even talked
about having sex – hell, we hadn’t talked at
all. Besides, she didn’t know I was here, so she couldn’t have been getting
them for me… she didn’t need them. There was no reason for her to get them…
I took some deep breaths as I watched her read the back
of the box. She just picked them up, that’s all. I’d watched her in this store
a million times, and she never took everything
she picked up; she wasn’t stupid like that. She only took the things she
needed. And there was no way she
needed condoms. It was fine. She’d put them back in a second…
I watched her do that look from underneath her long red
hair; the shy, sideways look in each direction. The hand clutching the box of
condoms slipped downwards, towards an inside pocket on her oversized coat,
before disappearing inside. When she pulled her hand out again it was empty;
her little magic trick. Another quick look in each direction, and she turned
and crept out of the shop. No-one noticed her leave.
No-one except me.
How could she do that to me? I’d protected her all this
time. I let her do what she did and never told anyone, because I loved her and she
knew that. That was the understanding; our special, secret thing, just between us.
Her and me.
Screwing someone else behind my back was never part of the deal.
As I turned away from the tv I suddenly noticed a shelf
above it, stacked with videotapes that had dates on them for the last six
months. I guessed it was archive footage from the CCTV cameras. It was all the
evidence I needed.
I opened the door and went out to find Mr Blane. I knew
what I had to do.
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Next time she came in Mr Blane and I were ready for her.
I watched her steal a pair of earrings and a necklace;
she even flashed a smile at me, as if everything was still fine between us. She
wasn’t expecting Mr Blane to be waiting for her at the door when she tried to leave
– or for him to demand that she turn out her pockets. I called the police, and made
sure I looked her right in the eye as I was doing it. She had the nerve to look
confused – hurt even. Like I was
betraying her.
She kept staring at me even as they put her in the
police car and drove her away, but I just looked right through her. She was
dead to me now; a cold-hearted cheat who got what she deserved.
“Well done Danny” said Mr Blane as we went back inside.
“Good catch. Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”
“Thank you sir.”
I should’ve felt good about it, but I didn’t. A broken
heart still hurts. And it’d take me a while to get over this one.
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