Down below her, to the west, Union Station was glimmering and glittering with all its coloured lights, neon and tall, brightly lit, floor to ceiling shop windows, behind which yuppies and seniors were sipping their various favourite beverages of choice, everything shimmering in the radiating heat of the warm summer night, as the moon lit up the dark night's sky.
Even the elevated SkyTrain, far below her, snailing its way across the horizon like a glowing worm, seemed almost like stuck to the ground, as if it was trying to wiggle its way free of it.
She liked to leave the curtains undrawn, so she could enjoy the view of the city below her. "No harm done", she figured. "My condo ain't but a speck in the universe. Like one single star amongst millions, billions, on the dark night's sky". She loosened her long, black hair and gave it a shake to make it flow freely, looked toward the ceiling and shook her head a few times, running her hands, spread fingers like a comb, through it until she was happy with it.
She opened her white dress and slid out of it. Folded it neatly and and hung it over the back of the Rococo chair by the window. Freshly reupholstered in rich, deep purple, it was a surefire attention grabber in her condo. But then again, her entire place was oozing of style, good taste, excellent design and the money to pay for it all. She unhooked her bra and hung it over the arm rest, then wiggled out of her white satin panties and put them on the other. Then she stood there for a moment, as God had created her, and enjoyed the view. After her train of thought had come and gone, she opened the balcony door and stepped outside, enjoying the late night breeze on her skin. Holding on to the railing, she still felt a slight dizzyness when looking down, so the stepped back inside and walked into the bathroom, with a grace that carried her across the room, as if she was weightless, like a down drifting in the wind.
She looked at her immaculate body with pride and fear, in the mirror, wondering what it would look like, thirty years from now. Would she still be attractive? Would she still be fuckable? She stepped into the shower and let the warm water engulf her naked body. It fell like rain on the Savanna, bringing with it regeneration, a bounty of colour and gragrances, restoring life to the lush landscape of her curves.
She lathered her soft shower cloth and ran her soapy hands all over her body, make sure every milimetre was covered, soaped in. Every nook and cranny. Her breasts felt warm and tender as she cupped them in her soapy hands. They surely appreciated the extra love and attention they got. Or maybe it was just that she liked to have them fondled?
Dripping wet, she stepped out of the shower and wiped down the steamed up bathroom mirror the best she could, with the palm of her hand, leaving little trails the looked like slopes on a ski hill. Once again she admired as she was standing there, au naturel, in front of the mirror, looking for the woman she'd be, thirty years from now, long after child birth, wrinkles under her eyes, sagging boobs, a belly full of stretch marks and nipples all chewed up by budding baby teeth. She was abruptly brought back to Eart, snapped out of it, as her phone rang. Looking for it, she found it on the table by the window.
"Ni hao?" - Nothing but dead air. Absolute vaccuum of sound from the cell tower where the ping came in. She tried again, after a few seconds: "Hello! Anyone there?" She threw a quick glance out her window, to the blackened sky with the pale, white moon. Another two seconds of silence, then a bit of statics and a pale, dusty, kind of freaky voice came through, and after an exageratedly deep breath she couldn't really determine if was a moan or somebody having breathing problems, the voice climbed through her ear, into her brains: "Looking real nice today, Mrs Wang. I like the way you carefully folded your dress and your panites". The voice was painfully slow and methodic.
It sent a shock-wave through her naked body. For a moment, she stood there, paralyzed, with the phone to her ear. When the initial shock-wave dissipated and she was able to think and move again, she slammed the phone shut, ran to the corner of the living room and sat down on the floor. When she looked at her hand, she realized that not only her hand, but indeed her entire body were shaking. She sat there in the corner, as if this was a good place to hide. Then she suddenly remember her front door. She jumped up and literally ran to the front door, still shaking, slammed her hand on the lock to make sure it was absolutely locked, the she did the same to all three extra bolt locks she'd had installed. She looked around her for a moment, all out of it, then she ran into the kitchen, found an empty glass bottle, put it upside-down, five centimetres from the door, so that it would fall over on the tiled floor and alert her, in case somebody was able to open the door.
She didn't get any sleep that night. 6 hours of mental agony, tossing and turning without a single minute of peace of mind. At work next morning, she decided to call her ex, asking him if he could drop by after work, just to calm her down, make her feel a little more safe. After hearing her story, what had happened to her last night, he agreed to come over and stay with her, just untill she was able to fall asleep. It wasn't til after midnight that she was able to finally fall asleep, and the ex very quietly left her, making absolutely sure everything was locked and secured behind him, as he walked the empty street where the rain was falling gently, in the yellow glare of the street lamps. At 02:18, her phone rang beside her pillow. It took 6 rings before she was alert enough to pick it up, assuming it was the ex checking up on her:
"That was really nice, Mrs Wang", with a long drawn out emphasis on the word 'really', the very slow, heavy breathing, dusty voice called out to her. "You seemed to like it a lot when he had you on the dining table. Was it as good for you as it was for me? You know, I think we should meet one day, Mrs Wang".
On two hours of sleep and frozen in fear, her entire body shaking like a jack-hammer, tormented and mentally tortured for the rest of the night, she decided not to go to work that day. When she finally had found the courage to go outside to run a quick errand, it was afternoon and she had a pepper spray and her sharpest paring knife in her purse. She was frantically inable to decide if she was safer in a crowd or walking alone. Walking alone, she could see if anyone approached her and quickly dig into her purse. But there would be noone to come to her rescue. In a crowd, there would be potential rescue, but it would also be extremely easy for him to sneak up on her or stalk her. She was utterly tormented by this decision. One or the other?
That night, her ex came over again and stayed with her all night, sleeping on the couch, all four locks bolted to the max, bottle upside-down on the tiled floor, more for her sake than for his. That night, she actually got a few hours of sleep. Not the deep sleep she so desperately needed, but at least it was sleep by definition. She called in sick at work again, next morning, telling her favourite colleage about her duress. She spent the day planning, more like imagening, what she would do, "just in case". Her ex was going away for the weekend with his new GF, so he wouldn't be able to come over, she knew. For a brief moment, she wondered how he was making love to her - if the new GF was as good as she was, herself? She couldn't help but feel a little jealous on her. Maybe a piece of her heart was still with her ex? But very quickly the one and only thought on her mind was back to how she would defend herself, if ever approached by him. This...voice. This...man she had never seen. She needed a plan, and the rest of that Friday, she spent making what she believed was a good one. Just in case. She was not the strong type, neither physically nor mentally or emotionally. She needed to rely on her friends or, especially, their connections. Saturday afternoon, she believed she was ready. She believed that she had the courage, the plan and that she could pull it off.
She made sure the light in her condo was on, that night. Every single light. Curtains pulled apart. When the phone rang, just after midnight, she picked it up and went over to the window. It was the usual sequence: The silence, the heavy breathing, the dusty, freaky voice. But before he could say anything, she cut him off: "Is this what you want to see?" she inquired. She slowly let her white dress, the same white dress, fall to the floor and stood naked by the window with the lights on, looking toward the other towers in front of her, scouting for any idea where the freak could hiding. "Oh, yes", the voice moaned. "I love that. I see you have shaved. It really turns me on".
"Well, I'll give you one chance. Your one and only chance, if you really want to meet me, she told him, while desperately trying to stay calm. Or at least faking her calm. "Tomorrow night, at midnight, in the centre of Stalewassem Bridge, on the sidewalk. Be there, or loose your chance, forever. Bring condoms". "Oh, I will be there, Mrs Wang. I wouldn't miss it for the life of me". She hung up without any further ado, drew her curtains shut and sat down by the dining table, her entire body shaking insanely.
23:30 she was on the sidewalk, dead centre of the bridge. Nobody there but her and a few cars ocasionally flying by. At the far end of the bridge, a hobo, it appeard, maybe a homeless, was very slowly trying to maneuver his stolen shopping cart, overflowing with junk and crap, uphill towards her, every now and then sitting down, taking a breather for a few minutes. At 23:45, she noticed a short, fat figure coming towards her, from the other end of the bridge, at a brisk pace, walking with a limp. She swolled and was convinced that anyone within a kilometre could hear both that and her heart pounding in her chest. She was trembling and her skin was moist with cold sweat. When the short, fat figure caught up with her, she didn't want to look at him. "This way", she told him briefly. "At the end of the bridge".
"My pleasure", the short fat one replied, and they starte walking to the opposite end he just came from. Just as they passed the hobo with his shopping cart, things happened very quickly. The slow moving hobo seemed to explode in an inferno and before anyone could tell what the hell was going on, there was blood all over the shopping cart, she short, fat one was on his way up onto the railing of the bridge and a second later he was on his way down, very fast, on the other side, into the river. She let out a loud, terrifying scream that seemed to last forever, like a second that is dragged out to misleadingly seem to go on and on. With closed eyes and her face in her hands, and when she finally turned around, the hobo was at the far end of the bridge, riding his cart like a wild horse, before he completely disappeared out of sight. She stood there in shock, maybe for 20 seconds and when finally she'd come to her senses again, she drew a sigh of relief at the acknowledgement that there was not a car on the bridge and she hadn't noticed any for the last minute or two.
Monday moring, the second of two $ 5.000.00 payments was withdrawn from her account. Monday came and went. Nothing on the news about any bridges or "main arteries" as they call it. Tuesday, was the same and she started breathing a little easier. Wednesday went quite well and she decided to go back to work where she made plans with "the girls" to meet for a BBQ in the park, the following Saturday. It was a lovely, sunny afternoon that saturday...when her phone rang. She picked it up and put it to her ear. Nothing but dead air...then a heavy breath and a dusty voice: "Where were you, Mrs. Wang"?
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