She had always chased younger men. She liked their tight bodies and loose minds. She had taken a Motel room close by, cruised the streets and waited. She was into the third day and was getting twitchy. Then she spied him.
Not ten meteres away he appeared in a newsagent’s doorway. She froze and considered him. A tall strong frame, just on six feet tall. He filled out his CK jeans well, with long, long legs and a pert arse to match. His movements were languid yet purposeful. He turned away from her and headed down the street. There was enough people around now for her to melt into the background. He turned into a cafe and took a window seat. His back was to her and side on. From where she stood she could study him and not be seen herself.
His facial features were surprisingly delicate. Long blond lashes complimented a tousled mop of sandy coloured hair. His fingers were slender and strong looking and a left hand deftly held the coffee cup. She noticed how he sat with his right hand in his pocket a lot.
“Mmm unusual, " she thought, "quirky indeed ". He was the one. She felt the vial of Rohypnyl in her clutch purse. She rolled it between thumb and forefinger through the chintz material.
" Oooh yes, " she cooed under her breath, " he will definitely do ".
She strode into the cafe casting her eyes nonchalantly. She caught him looking twice.
“Mind if I sit here ? ", she asked.
“Sure ", he said, " free country isnt it ? ".
the hunter becomes the hunted. Dont assume nothing nowadays.