Virgo.

Her hair wasn’t always purple-black. It used to be brown…

The solace he took from alcohol surrounded him like the humid stench from the streets. Each cold sip was like the caress of Sandy’s lips, a cruel replacement.

He sat at the end of the counter in the Equator Cafe at 02:40, guzzling bourbon.

The dream of his ex-wife had made sleep impossible, like the cloying heat outside. He abandoned Drakken Manse and collapsed into his car. The Toyota’s AI had driven. He’d sat with his tired eyes closed listening to Vivaldi over the radio feed, as the car rocketed through the Golgothan express tunnel. The tunnel ran under the river Arridon from the city centre into the more industrialised outland sectors. Initially he’d just wanted a quiet drive to relax and try to clear his head. He’d ended up sitting in the deserted cafe with only the night waitress for company.

Whiskey was bad company to keep in his state of mind, and becoming a habit. The Equator was one of a rising trend of twenty-four hour cafes opening in the city that served alcohol as well as short order meals, pastries and hot beverages.

The many coloured bottles standing behind the scuffed counter were filled with exotic intoxicants. The gleam of clean glasses in low light; the crack of fresh ice and the rattle of the silver bucket. The chink of frozen water in the bottom of his glass and the amber caressing the back of his throat eased his frazzled nerves. It was all good, as far as he was concerned. The atmosphere and nuances of the bar or diner had all grown to fascinate him, in the months since Sandy left him.

He’d sat in the empty cafe for over an hour, being quietly tended to by the girl behind the counter. He hadn’t really noticed her, lost in his own thoughts. The reality that another twelve-hour shift began at Metro South in five hours was lost on him. He’d had it blanked by the Jack Daniel’s. The Equator was aptly named. The heat in the place was near unbearable. The old fashioned twin ceiling fans did practically nothing to alleviate the sticky discomfort of being bathed in sweat. The place didn’t seem to have air conditioning vents or an up to date system.

Morensky’s longish curling hair irritated him. He hadn’t bothered to visit a barber in months His back and chest were glued to his shirt. The sweat leeched out of him, beaded on his stubble covered face and neck. Wiping another tide of sweat away from him with the palm of his hand, he finished his drink and called for another.

He’d only started to notice the girl as the bourbon began to play with his perception, encircling him in the warm embrace of its tendrils that snaked around his skull with the rise of his blood alcohol level. Despite the advent of artificially intelligent automobiles that could drive you home when drunk, he was still determined not to become completely inebriated. The girl with ironed straight chestnut hair came over.

‘You’ve had quite a bit tonight. You sure you’re okay?’ Her voice was even, unpatronising. It floated through the dense air. There was more though. She showed a genuine concern in the way she looked at him, with her penetrating eyes the colour of Atlantic storm.

‘I’m fine.’ He said, more abruptly than he’d planned. She poured another for him and was about to step away.

‘You have a kind face. I apologise, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ He said, taking another sip. His ice had all but melted in the bottom of the glass. She turned back to look at him.

‘You have a nice voice.’ She purred back. ‘And you weren’t rude. I got to learn to mind my own business is all.’ Specks of light passed through those eyes as they narrowed kindly. There was something else in her stare, elusive.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked, cocking her head oh so slightly to one side. Strands of errant hair floating in the slight draft from the ceiling fans.

‘Jack.’

The girl penetrated his fatigue and self-pity. He eyed her cautiously, letting his vision luxuriate on her form. Suddenly Jack focused. She walked back and stood opposite him behind the bar. Her bone structure was sublime. Straight shiny cascading hair framed an oval face, beautiful, striking to behold. Her eyes held warmth, intensity as they raked over his sweaty disheveled appearance. Her stare seemed to infuse him with a nameless quality. He felt as though she was reading his pain. After a long pause she leaned over the counter, drawing closer.

‘Who was she Jack?’ Her tone was like satin. He was immediately defensive.

‘What?’

‘Who was the bitch, fucked you up, made you come here in the middle of the night?’

How was she seeing into him so clearly? He found himself drowning in her eyes. He hadn’t done that since the last time he’d seen Gabriella DiSalle. The girl from the Equator Cafe reiterated.

‘Who would do that. Hurt you?’ There it was again, that genuine concern. He was trained to tell truth from deception. It was second nature to a cop, or a criminal, and he had the DNA of both. She was on the level this girl, but there was something more in her hushed velvet tone. Was it amazement? Yes, that was it. She was actually amazed that anyone would hurt him.

‘My ex-wife. . .’ He found himself replying. He couldn’t help himself. The words just escaped him. Why was he talking to her? He felt as though if she asked him he’d tell her everything. She was a witch, beguiling in every sense. His liquor sponge brain savoured every nuance of her shape as she stared at him intently. Her wide mouth, thin lips and slender shoulders. Her breasts and her slightly pouty bottom lip made him want to kiss her, badly.

‘She left you?’ There was the incline of the head again, the stormy probing eyes. It stirred his blood, at war with the invading fatigue from another day of staying alive in a cop’s uniform. She was saying something about her shift finishing in a few minutes. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. The scent of her sweat mingled with perfumed oil on her body in the heat. Her gaze was innocent, but with something irritatingly elusive. This girl had been damaged too. How else could she so readily see it in him?

‘I’d like to hear more about it. We don’t get many nice guys in here.’ She was saying. Another young girl entered the Equator. She spoke to her and he didn’t catch the words at all. He was at that point, lost in her sight.

‘How do you know I’m a nice guy?’ He said suspiciously, finishing his drink, and paying the tab.

‘I can just tell. It’s a gift.’ She said plainly, walking down the bar to put his cash in the register.

‘You smell good.’ He said. She cast that sly hint of a smile his way again. Sandy used to give him a similar look. The cafe girl looked for a split second at him as though he was throwing her a line. The expression said: ‘Yeah right!’ But instead she simply thanked him, sounding flattered.

Her stone-washed Levi’s clung to her slim legs. The girl leaned over the bar and whispered something to him that was imperceptible. The purple tie-dyed vest she wore was damp with sweat when she took her apron off. The rag of a garment barely covered her breasts. Her flat abdomen was teasingly exposed. The sight of her pierced almond shaped navel was tantalising, made him groan. The small tattoo of a strawberry alongside it was cute.

‘Listen, I’m serious about going somewhere, if you want to talk.’ She said. Her thong straps were visible, arching over her hips above the waistband of her jeans. Spot lit sweat shone on her neck and the tops of her breasts, running in rivulets into her cleavage.

‘My place?’ He said.

The other girl, who he wasn’t paying attention to, came into the cafe from the back. They’d changed shifts. The bourbon had finally taken hold. He wanted to go home.

Cafe Girl’s eyes gleamed enthusiastically at the suggestion. She picked up her bag and came round to the customer side of the counter, ready to leave. Her nipples visible through the wet clinging cloth of her vest as she drew close to him on his stool. It was then he detected the thin veil of cigarette smoke on her.

‘Let’s go.’ She purred, her eyes never leaving his as she took him tenderly by the hand. What kind of Shamaness was she, to put him under a spell so quickly?

 

The AI drove Morensky’s car.

He wasn’t drunk, but then again he wasn’t exactly sober either. He remembered the deft way Harumi (that was the name of his AI construct’s holographic interface) weaved in and out of the other early morning traffic. Cafe Girl seemed eager to be alone with him, as they headed back to the Haragei district of Sector 1. They passed the ride in stunned silence as Harumi played classical music from the radio feed to accompany the high speed trip to Jack’s Drakken Manse penthouse. It was obvious they wanted each other.

He’d offered her coffee, once they’d taken the express elevator to the ninety-eighth floor. She’d refused instead opting for an ice cold beer. Jack had coffee. He figured he needed it. They talked about his reason for being at the Equator, his reasons for hitting the bottle. She was remarkably insightful. He felt as though he’d known her forever. It was impossible not to trust her. He willingly fell under her spell as they sat cooling themselves in air conditioned comfort, high above the smog obscured streets.

Cafe Girl knew his pain as though she’d been there herself. She told him that her parents were long divorced, so she was familiar with the pain of displacement. They sat close together, on one of his leather sofas. There was lust in her eyes, making them smile mischievously. The apartment was low lit, just the way he liked it.

‘It’s so fucking hot.’ He remembered her saying, just as it began to rain in a violent deluge outside. A short while later it began to thunder as he suggested she make use of his bathroom to freshen up.

Blood raced through his veins like fire in a tunnel. The languid way she moved enthralled him. She knew he wanted her, he was sure of it. She wanted him too. He was certain of it. It had become etched in her beautiful stormy blue eyes that raked over him. Adrenaline could always be counted on to render him alert, faster than caffeine ever could. Why this young woman seemed to want him was truly beyond his scope of reckoning.

‘So what do you miss most about your wife?’ She asked, once she’d returned from the bathroom with wet hair, having accepted the invitation to freshen up. Morensky’s lust erupted within him and as she sat down beside him he lunged at her.

‘This,’ he said, as his mouth enveloped hers in a violent kiss.

Her mouth was as hungry as his own. Her tongue parted his lips and forced its way into his mouth, frantically massaging his tongue as she immediately wriggled out of her Levi’s. He ran his trembling hands over the smooth skin of her newly exposed thighs, as she shivered with her own desire. She got up suddenly, stood before him. As if by magic her purple-black thong was a thin cotton halo around her ankles. Her pussy was clean shaven. She didn’t stop, peeling off her vest and dropping it where she stood. He could do nothing but stare, rapt in the sight of her naked body.

She was bronzed by the summer sun, tawny as a double shot latte. Her perfect skin gleamed in low light, sweat sheen playing on her delicate muscle tone. Her narrow waist tapered like an hourglass, ankles slender, feet small and pointed. Her thighs were strong, promising raw sexual power. He could hardly believe her to be the same woman who had served him drinks an hour beforehand.

She flexed her arms and her small breasts inched higher. The sweat or water from the sink shone between. He didn’t care which. Dark brown nipples jutted out at him from coffee coloured areola. He ran his tongue, still throbbing from her kiss, over his bottom lip in anticipation of her. Erotic resonance cracked the air as she seemed to glide closer without moving.

‘What do you think?’ She asked in a slight whisper as he drank her in until his head felt like exploding. He was rendered speechless. She stroked his face slowly. He felt like crying, it was such a tender gesture. He grabbed her left arm, kissing the inside of her wrist, as she touched his rough stubble covered face. She gasped from his touch, sinking her other hand into his matted hair and pulling him roughly up off the sofa. Her body drew ever closer as she led him with her thighs. Catlike prowess tangled him further in her web of surreal eroticism.

The moment their bodies touched was like a ten-thousand-volt shock. Her power seemed overwhelming. He’d never felt gripped in the pull of woman in quite that way before. The part of him that had shriveled and died since Sandy left was magically brought back to life with Cafe Girl’s every touch. She stood held in his broad muscular arms and he felt alive again for the first time in a long time.

He pulled her to him violently. They both gasped now, savouring the friction as their bodies met. They relished the electricity coursing through their veins. The heat in their groins merged. Her pubis brushed him. The sheer strength of her body heat thawed his icy heart and burned through the soul destroying loneliness left in him by his wife.

Quickly he scooped her off her feet into his bulging arms and carried her through the apartment. Once in the bedroom he dropped her gently on the bed and opened the long Plexiglass sliding door out onto the balcony. Cool air was carried instantly inside on the night breeze, flooding the room like a caress as he returned to the bed. She pushed herself up and stared at him, raised on her elbows. The want in her was obvious as he threw off his damp clothes and leapt on the bed beside her.

Jack devoured her lips again in another deep reaching kiss that lasted moments. The force of his probing lips and tongue made her arch her back and moan in delight. His body was groaning with nervous energy. With only the lights from the Arridon Manse high rise opposite to illuminate their flesh, he slid slowly down the exquisite length of her body and between her thighs. He enveloped her sex with his mouth, plunging into her, savouring the taste of her. Hungrily he ate her pussy as she spread her legs instinctually wider to let him in deeper, grinding her hips and moaning through clenched teeth. She arched her back again sharply as his tongue grazed her clitoris and vulva. He drank deeply from her, as if from a well in the desert. Looking up at her the light in her eyes was like the glow of the flames in a roaring fire.

He slid back up her body, kissing her abdomen, licking her navel along the way, savouring every inch of bronzed skin as the rain came down and the lightning flashed outside their bedroom window. Her hands reached out and took hold of his, drawing them to her so that she could place them palms down on her breasts. They squashed like ripe fruit under his pressure. She cried out as he pressed down harder, sending waves of pleasure through her writhing body from her stiff nipples. The hardness of him grazed her thighs.

His body was suspended over hers now as she thrust up to meet him. Her thighs snaked around his hips as she thrashed him with wet hair. The delicate line of her neck was exposed by this and he ran his tongue along it. Her moaning intensified as she sucked hungrily on his left earlobe before crossing her ankles over his ass. She was exerting all her strength in an effort to force him to enter her. The enthralling way she held him in her stare made him want her all the more.

The wind was getting up, permeated with heavily rainfall and split with thunder crack following brilliant flashes of lightning. Jack teased her with his body, letting it rise and fall on her as he kissed her lips lightly. She was grimacing with acute sensation, pleasure rising within her like a wave.

‘Oh God, will you come inside me?’ She screamed at him, as another lightning flash lit her beautiful face. Her flame coloured hair was being whipped by the wind. It incensed him. Her mouth gaped, hungry for more of him, as their loins grazed again.

Jack’s mouth swallowed hers once more. He found himself growling like some kind of animal as he tasted her. His corded muscles relaxed for a second as he felt her reach down and take him in her hand. She began thrusting back and forth, gripping him tightly before pushing him into her. He felt a white hot blade of shooting intensity fill his lower abdomen as he sank deep into her soaking wet sex. He felt engulfed by her.

Cafe Girl felt the stringy filament of ecstasy in her vagina quickening to an explosion of beating wings spreading throughout her entire body. He was numbingly thick inside, filling her up as she massaged his length with her muscles. Skin to skin they moved in unison.

‘Ah.’ She gasped with lust heavy breath. Her crossed ankles gripped his ass tightly. Her thighs were spread as wide as she could get them.

‘You’re beautiful.’ He whispered breathlessly as he drove himself deeper inside her. They writhed together like one body in the storm. The power he was feeling from her was inspiring. Straub had become a distant memory in Cafe Girl’s arms.

A deliciously warm smile spread over her face as the thunder storm raged outside. They made love for over an hour in the rain soaked heat, eyes locked together with insatiable want. Neither one of them wanted to look away. Steadily her breathing became more rapid and shallow. The room was heavy with sex and mingled sweat. Her vaginal muscles tightened around him quickly. Her nostrils flared and she became slick, her husky breath shuddered under him. He was so hard inside her it hurt. With a deeper thrust inside her eyelids fluttered upwards, showing their whites.

‘Oh shit baby!’

She suddenly cried out in the darkness as her body was racked with wave upon wave of orgasms. She shuddered and shook in his embrace as he collapsed momentarily on her sweat slick body.

‘Come for me baby.’ She gasped, looking up at him, eyes searching.

Jack found himself shivering in the afterglow. The unadulterated pleasure of being soaked inside the raging heat of her sex gave him the strength to go on. He reared up on his powerful arms and thrust into her again. All breath went out of him as Cafe Girl came again quickly and he was gripped by the rushing liquid sensation of his own climax. She savoured the feeling as he came inside her. The hot splash of his semen felt good as she used her vaginal muscles to squeeze every last drop from him. They continued to stare at each other, smiling, desire sated, happy. Spent, they rolled over and over together in bed. He wrapped their dripping bodies in the comfort of a cool clean sheet.

 

They took a cold shower together, wrapped in each other’s arms under the refreshing spray. They were unable to resist the strong pull of one another and made love again, stimulated by the lack of dense humidity.

After a half hour or so they emerged from Morensky’s en-suite bathroom. He followed the girl out closely. She padded into the dark bedroom and threw her towel clad body on the bed once more. He was right behind her but walked instead out onto the balcony. The summer rain had lessened but still fell. The thunder and lightning had abated and as a result all seemed quiet. He picked up a bottle of Jim Beam Black from the table on the balcony and poured himself a glass, absent-mindedly forgetting to offer one to his guest. It wasn’t his usual poison but the all night store was out of Jack Daniel’s. The eight-year-old straight bourbon was a good substitute. His nostrils twitched at sensing the unfamiliar as he looked out over the rain swept Golgothan nightscape. He turned back into the bedroom.

The girl was languishing on the bed. Her body half wrapped in a clean white sheet that picked up flecks of diffused moonlight coming in through the open balcony door. The unfamiliar scent was coming from a thin black cigarette she smoked, held delicately in the long slim fingers of her right hand. The creeping blue-grey fragrant smoke curled from her bow lips as she smiled through another exhale at him. He could savour the outline of her body through the sheet as he padded back to bed, sat near her.

‘You don’t mind my smoking, do you?’ She asked. He shook his head, wet strands of black hair sticking to his pale face.

‘No.’

‘Would you like one?’ She leaned firmly against him, offering up her pack.

‘I don’t smoke.’ He said slowly, taking a long thin black and gold cigarette from the carton in her left hand. She smiled again, that sly alluring smile hinting of mystery he was dying to unravel. A long bare feminine arm slipped around his neck holding a pewter Zippo as she kneeled behind him on the mattress. He felt the delicate slip of cloth as her sheet fell away. Her firm breasts squashed against his bare back, the twin points of her erect nipples sending a thin filament of pleasure down his spinal column. With an expert flick of the wrist she opened the Zippo letting loose a narrow flame in which he burned the end of his cigarette. The strong flavour of the tobacco was delicious. He savoured it, along with the scent of her skin close to his, as he mulled the smoke around and let it go. Ghostly vapor rose to the ceiling. Her lips grazed the nape of his neck in a light kiss.

‘You like?’ She whispered. He found himself nodding slow, looking at the unusual cigarette he held in his hand.

‘Yeah. I like.’

‘And you don’t smoke?’ She repeated.

‘My first cigarette.’ He confirmed.

‘But not the last.’ It wasn’t a question.