Anticipation

         5:28 PM. 

         Sally sat staring at her computer screen, the fingers of her right hand, absent minded in their actions, began tapping on the mouse.  Her feet twitched below the desk.  There'd be no point starting anything new, the day almost over.  She had to at least pretend to be working, anything else would be rude. 

         She'd only started the job three days ago, and although quite shy, fitting in hadn't been a problem.  An older woman named Deb had made sure of that, forcing her inclusion to conversations and introducing her to anyone who set foot in the office, whether they were keen or not.

         The thought brought a smile to her face, remembering how a young work-experience lad turned a bright shade of red, being coerced to shake hands and swap pleasantries with the new office girl.  Deb had informed Sally he aged nineteen, but he looked no more than fifteen, complete with a spot riddled face and speech that consisted of no more than a mumble. 

         “Time to go home,” A voice came from outside the office, “See you all at eight AM sharp!”

         Sally pushed the heel of her left foot back into her shoe and closed down Windows Vista with a few clicks of the buttons on her mouse.  She shot across the room and had both her arms in the sleeves of a charcoal grey coat, before her monitor had turned black.

         “Bye Sally.”  Deb said, grinning.

         “Bye Deb.  See you tomorrow.”  Sally returned.

         Oh, God, I can't wait!  Her mind raced, the gleam in her eyes and smile painted across her face making it obvious for anyone to see, excitement raged within.

         She verged on running, as she made her way to the car park, half expecting a stern managerial voice to admonish her for running in the corridors, an event she became accustomed to while at school.  The voice didn't arrive. 

         Her fingers searched inside the vastness of her bag, as she spotted her car -- a bright red Vauxhaul Corsa that no longer sparkled bright, thanks to the few years wear and tear she'd put it through -- she pushed a just-retrieved key toward the lock.  The door opened and she threw her bag onto the passenger seat and jumped inside.  A broad smile radiated.

         The engine started on first attempt.  Thank god.   Almost avoiding looking in the mirrors completely, she navigated out of the car park, just missing a stray bin that teetered over the pavement beside the entrance.  The digital readout in the dashboard read 5:35.  She'd be there by six PM.  The smile broadened further still, her heartbeat becoming evident against her chest.

         OK.  Calm down, come on, Jesus.   She took a deep breath.  It had little to no effect.

         The main road lay cluttered and busy; the bane of home time, but she knew it would only be a few minutes before she could break off from most other traffic and with a bit of luck, she'd have a clear run home.

         The vibration from her bag on the passenger seat released her from her thoughts.  Please, no. She turned a corner and the road ahead lay pretty much empty, only a lone motorcycle and its rider in view.  She pressed her foot to the pedal and soon she drove alone on the road.  Please, no.  With her left hand, she reached across to her bag, fished inside and pulled out a small mobile phone with a pink shell. 

         “New Message, Read Now?”  Flashed back at her.  Please, no!

         She clicked a button, and realized the message emanated from the network, offering free texts.

         “Jesus!  Don't do that to me!”  She exclaimed, taking another deep breath to steady herself.  He's still coming.  Oh my God! She quivered, as butterflies leapt in her tummy.

         She eased the car up, onto the curb outside her house, looking around her the whole time and not seeing what she sought so much it ached.  He just isn't here yet, don't freak out.

After throwing her mobile phone back into the bag, she grabbed it, switched off the engine of the car and pulled out the key, then with another deep breath, opened the car door.

         He's probably very near.   Another deep breath, the butterflies hadn't stopped and neither had the smile.

         She looked all around her again, while opening the front door to her house.  Still not here. Walking into the living room she took note of the time on the clock above the fireplace:  5:58 PM.  She wouldn't have time to change or shower; running a brush through her hair had to be better than nothing.  The brush managed a few seconds in contact with her hair, before the engine of a car slowed outside.  Oh, God. Deep breath.

         She brushed through her long, Chestnut brown locks quickly, then placing the brush back on the mantle piece she headed for the blinds on the living room window.  A quick peek through the side and she could see an old black Ford Escort sitting at the corner of the street.  The man inside appeared to be in his late 30s with long blonde hair.  Could it be him?

         She removed her coat, her heartbeat threatening to come through her chest, her palms sweaty and her nipples taut and sensitive below her bra and blouse.  Deep breath.  “This is it!”

         She looked through the blinds again, but this time the car lay empty.  He hasn't knocked yet, it must be someone else.  Oh, God, I hope he didn't change his mind.

         The bell rang.  A small squeal escaped her throat, followed by three deep breaths in succession.  It's him.

         She opened the door, with shaking hands, taking longer than usual, then greeted the stranger with: “Hi.”

         “Sally Bruce?”  He enquired.

         “Yes,” She started, her throat dry and forcing her to swallow before continuing, “Brian?”
He nodded, with a warm smile.

         She looked awkward.  She found herself unable to talk; her hand still clung to the lock of the door, her knuckles white as her fist clutched in apprehension.

         “Come in.”  She managed, hoping he could make out what she said, through the dry crackle of her throat.

         He lifted his foot to the doorstep and stopped, his eyes raising to meet hers; questioning.

         “Oh, sorry, God, I'm so sorry, I'm so nervous.”  She apologized, forcing herself to step back and allow him to enter the house.  “Go into the living room.” 

         He made his way in and stood next to the sofa, his hands fidgeting in his pockets, eyes feasting on their new surroundings.

         “Sit down, you want something to drink?”  She closed the front door, having to pry her fingers from the lock, and joined him in the living room.

         “No, I'm fine, thanks.”

         She stood fixed to the spot, her mind blank, but her smile warm and accentuated by a raised heartbeat and a sparkle in her eyes.

         “So, how shall we get things started?”  He grinned, not quite succeeding in hiding the nervous look in his eyes.

         “I don't know, I've never done this before.”  She offered.

         “I like your hair, the picture didn't do it any justice.”  He tried to put her at ease.

         “Thanks, I'll blame the drink for that picture, not one of my best moments.”  She managed a chuckle, which faded quick.

         “You have beautiful eyes and a smile to match.”  He charmed.

         She giggled through her nervous disposition, and sat at the other end of the sofa.

         “Are you sure you want to do this?”  He asked, reaching his hand across the length of the sofa and taking hold of hers, gently.

         “Yes,”  She began, “I've thought about it for a long time, and I'm ready.”

         He gripped her hand a little tighter, forcing her to make full eye-contact with his features.  He smiled and removed a small leather toiletries bag from his coat pocket, with the free hand.

         “Where do you want to do it?”  He moved his thumb across the zip on the bag, waiting for her response.

         “The bedroom.”  She pulled her hand away and rose to her feet.

         He followed suit, and again when she made her way out into the hall and up the stairs. 

         “Are you still OK with doing it the way we talked about last night?”  His voice cracked a little.

         “Yeah.”  She squeaked, and cleared her throat. 

         “Are you sure?”  The hint of a nervous tone. 

         “I'm sure.”  Her voice retorted fast, giving away the fact she'd thought of nothing else.

         She kicked her shoes off, into the bathroom, then padded across the hall to the bedroom.  The door lay open, and inside there sat a small table by the large double bed, covered in tea light candles; some cinnamon scented and the rest plain. 

         “You've really made the effort!”  He grinned.

         “I wanted to make it special.”  She unbuttoned her blouse, smiling nervously, fingers still shaking and making the job a lot more difficult than it should be. 

         “You're eager.”  He mocked with warmth in his eyes, his own voice starting to crack now, as little beads of sweat formed on his brow. 

         “I've waited a long time for this,” She explained, “I don't want to wait a minute longer!”

         He smiled, then removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt.

         She took a long, focused look at him.  His bulk rippled,  muscular; his chest shaven bare, with stiff nipples, giving away his excitement.

         Her senses burned at full heat.  The cool evening air lapped at her exposed skin, as she walked across to the chest-of-drawers in the corner. 

         From it, she removed a small rolled up bundle of ten Pound notes. 

         “One hundred and sixty?”  She checked.

         He opened his small leather bag and popped the roll inside, without counting.  “I trust you.”

         She lowered the zip on her skirt, stepped out of it and with a lighter placed on the table, and began lighting the candles. 

         “Shall I lie down?”  Her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

         “Yeah, shall I close the curtains?”  He wanted to know.

         She nodded, then sat on the edge of the bed, sliding her bottom backwards and swinging her legs around to lay in the middle.

         The thick curtains closed, he used the candle light to empty out a few items, from his bag, onto the bottom of the bed, then kicked off his shoes and removed his trousers, pulling off his socks at the same time.  His underpants were next, then he placed each item of clothing in a pile on the floor.

         On the bed, Sally reached around and unhooked her bra, her heart racing as she rolled each strap down her arm and, with sloth-like movements, removed it completely.  Her hands shook so much she could barely place the fingers inside the waistband of her panties, but after a struggle that seemed to last forever, she pulled them down over her slim legs and off her feet.  She tossed them across the room and laid back, taking a deep breath, while squeezing her legs tight together. 

         Brian placed his knees against the bottom of the bed, then stepping up, he shuffled forward, kneeling beside her.  He had one of the items from the bag in his right hand.  Sally's eye drew to it and her breathing reduced to shallow gasps in an instant; her mouth twitched as her tongue attempted to moisten the lips. 

         “Oh, God, I'm so excited!  Please, I don't want to wait any longer!”  She begged.

         Brian grinned, taking a moment to brush the fingers of his left hand over her belly, then with agonizing slowness, upward, using the tip of his index finger to trace a line from her belly button to the sparse gap between her heavy, ample breasts. 

         Sally sighed, deeply, her eyes fixated to his right hand, watching almost in slow-motion, as he rose it in the air, the item in his grip twinkling in the candlelight, almost hypnotizing.

         His hand plunged down through the air at lightning speed, taking the wind from her lungs as it made contact just above her right breast.  The blade delivering a crushing and destructive blow.

         Her eyes bulged in shock.  She fought to inhale with every drop of remaining energy, but couldn't.  She hadn't expected that feeling, in all of her fantasies.  Her pupils relaxed as realisation hit her with a slight smile.

         “Thank... Y...ou.”  She managed. 

         The smile clung to her features as her eyes glazed over and her toes twitched one last time.

         Brian's smile vanished, his face serious and focused, now.  He looked at his watch and smiled. 

         Lifting the other items from the bottom of the bed, he began cutting into her lifeless chest, licking his lips as he worked.  His belly grumbled.

         On the top of the chest-of-drawers lay a single sheet of A4 paper, with a simple message.

         “I love you, Mum.”




THE END.