Somehow everything always managed to stop on the right side of good. She sighed; putting more of her weight on the rusting railing she was leaning on, facing out to sea. Would it be so much to ask to stay firmly in the middle of good? Or be on the wrong side of bad. It was late, maybe eleven o clock, but the sky was still a mid blue, the top darker than the top as though it was a watercolour that hadn't been finished. The stars were already out though, as if like children on Christmas morning, they just couldn't wait any longer. If she strained her eyes, she could pretend to still see a sliver or dusky pink on the horizon, but it wasn't true. Night was falling, and that gorgeous part of the day where everything is bathed in an orange glow and strands of pink illuminate the sky had long gone. The smoke from her cigarette drifted upwards, curling and spiralling, mesmerising her for a few minutes, as she tried to see the other worlds that must surely exist inside the misty swirls. She shivered, as a cold breeze danced across her shoulders. She wasn't dressed for the night. A white vest top, a black pleated miniskirt, and knee high clumpy boots, with a small bag that surely only had enough room for a packet of cigarettes and bus fare slung on one shoulder. As she gazed out to the distance, she took a drag on her smokes. Men never cheated on her but left her, politely extricating themselves from the relationship. Bosses never fired her, but disciplined her. Police never caught her, but chased her. She sighed, emitting smoke like a dragon.
"Its dangerous out here darlin'." It was a male voice, a blonder svelte man who had come and leant next to her. He looked at her. "And it's mighty late to be out on your own."
She smiled, her pale lips curling up. "I like the night. And I can handle myself." She tapped the cigarette lightly, ash tumbling to drop into the icy depths of the sea.
"So you're a…?" The man didn't finish the sentence. Its funny how some sentences you don't need to finish, but can leave hanging. He didn't seem to have any emotion in his voice, just blank neutrality.
She grinned, still looking out to sea. "Maybe. But you'd have to ask fees to find out."
A brief smile graced his face. "And your fees are?"
"Non existent. But you can pay if you want." She sighed, stretching, her top lifting a few centimetres revealing her pale stomach.
"Dinner sound good?" he began lazily. "There's an amazing Thai place up-" He was cut off by a slim finger on his lips. She shook her head, her dark hair tumbling about her shoulders.
"I don't want a gentleman," she murmured, her breath warm on his face, and he blinked. "I don't want to be wined and dined. I don't want to be walked home, and talk about the weather. I want to be bad." The last word was drawn out, running over his face like gold dust.
He raised a curious eyebrow. "How bad-" Once again he was cut off, but this time she kissed him hungrily. He staggered back, surprised, but unresisting. When she pulled away she grinned, like a vampire before they strike. "Very."