You Walked In

I sat there
The blinds drawn
The smoke curling into the soft guitar as they slowly chased each other round the room
Busy, but slow
There was peace in the air
But not the good kind, not like a Sunday afternoon
This was Saturday night
And I was edgy
I could hear voices outside
Whistling, shouting
I’d had a little drink and it made me sleepy
But how could I sleep now?
Just as my eyelids were losing their last glimmer of resistance
She walked in
And I don’t think I’ve closed them since
She was stunning
She looked like all the women I’d ever dreamt about
At least that’s what I assumed
She wore a blue fur coat that fell about her feet
Exposing her poor bare legs to the cold autumn night
She walked like she was on a tightrope with no fear of falling off in nine inch stilettos
She had her hair cut just above the shoulders so it curled in
Invitingly
She smelt like warm evenings in front of the fire
Just a hint of orange and vanilla
She looked around the room quizzically
Then she sighed, threw her cigarette butt to the floor, ground it down
(two strokes, swish swish)
Hung up her coat
And made her way over to me
Taking a seat she quickly smoothed the most beautiful blue silk dress I’ve ever seen
Maybe because it was gathered round her like fresh water rolling down a pebble dam
Anyway she looked at me with her rich green eyes
And she leaned across my desk
And she whispered
Stop
Staring
At
Me
And, to be honest, I was rather taken aback
Stop it
I duly did, admiring instead the lovely brown stain that generously spread itself across the faded green carpet
Not faded here, under my desk
Here it was a thick, rich, redolent green
She was still staring at me with a gaze that made my knees weak and my stomach turn so I returned my eyes to the floor
She coughed, lightly but with intent
I looked back up at her
How did you enjoy the view?
She spoke in a way that I was sure was intended to make me nervous
But her voice was so soft and tender that it made me write forgiveness across my mind
Would you like a drink?
I rose to the cabinet I kept for occasions such as this
Whiskey, with ice please
A man’s drink, but she was no man so she could get away with it
I poured myself the same and rejoined her at the table
She cupped the glass in both her hands as if it were a beacon in a dark dank cave
She had both her elbows on the table and she looked relaxed but ready, eager to discuss whatever she was here for
She sipped the whiskey
Outside the kids were still screaming and I could hear a siren in the background
The city’s second sun had dawned and flooded the streets with a dull orange glow that filtered through every curtain and blind available
Luckily my night-time  beacon had fell prey to the cowboy electrician so the light in the room was ambient but not intrusive
Inch wide beams of beauty filled my eyes
And that’s all I remember