how those hidden dark alleyways of our imagination

...may transport us to real-life enactments!

****

He was wearing a pin-strip suit; I was in devilishly form-fitting pants, pin-stripe corset, tight button down white shirt. We both were in fidoras and ties.

Walking down a quiet alley-way towards a bar on Polk street, his cell-phone rings. He checks the number and glancing apologetically at me and my raised eyebrow, he turns away to take the call. While he is on the phone I examine our surroundings.

There are cars parked on one side of the street, still covered in glimmering drops of water from the rain which had only ceased for the time being. One man slowly pushes a shopping cart down the our street, perhaps lost in his own world and ignoring our presence. I can hear the quick clicking of stilettos, laughter and loud voices chattering in Spanish, as some ts street workers crossed the end of our alley. However, other than the disappearing man with the shopping cart, my friend and I are alone.

I return my gaze to my companion, and smile to myself as I notice that his back is to me, and he is using the wall of the building to write something down. Temporarily consumed by his business, he has accidentally made himself vulnerable to unseen predatorial surroundings.

Folding up his piece of paper, and returning his pen to his pocket, his conversation draws to a close. As he snaps his cell-phone shut, he suddenly finds himself shoved up against the wall, arms pinned behind him, and cell phone wrenched from his fingers.

"There will be no more interruptions while we are together," I whisper into his ear, pushing his legs open with my knee. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he breathes as I slip his cell phone back into his pants pocket, noticing how the material tightens as I do so.

...to be continued...