The Perfect Stranger

Humble Beginnings

Bonabelle Peterson sat on the bar stool drinking her depression away. She sat there mourning the loss of her job at the High Tower Corporation, a financial aid company that loans banks money to loan money to their customers. Why did they have to lay her off first? She didn’t know. She did everything they had ever asked of her. She got them coffee when they wanted it even though her desk was full of papers to examine that would take about a day to get through. She let them yell at her for something her co-workers did. She did everything without question or complaint. She had waited on them hand-and-foot for six years, starting when she was an intern at 18. Why her? All that she knew was they were decreasing the number of employees due to the unstable economy. They couldn’t make payroll, so not only did they cut staff but they also forced early retirement for those approaching retirement age who “Didn’t Do Good Enough Job.” She was tormented about where she would get another job. The only options she could see were fast food restaurants or other degrading opportunities--she didn’t spend 50 grand on her education to flip burgers.

            Thinking about today’s misadventures was giving her a headache. She started to lay her head down on the bar table but ended up hitting it hard. She pouted, “Can life get any worse?”

            “Well, the world could end this very moment and detritivores could become the dominant species,” responded a man with a seductive voice.

            Bonabelle looked up to find a handsome man sitting on the stool next to her. He looked to be about 30 and was very easy on the eyes: He had dark brown hair, 5 o’clock shadow on his chiseled chin, a powerful jaw, straight nose. He had square, broad shoulders, ones to lay your head, and had a dancer’s posture. He obviously works out at least 5 times a week, she thought, curiously. His eyebrows were not salon sculptured and above all his eyes were big, green, and hypnotic. They were hypnotic to the level that she just wanted to do whatever this man asked without question and unabashedly. Those eyes caught her attention right away. She could not take her eyes off him. His eyes sparkled and glistened in the dim lights of the bar. What a perfect stranger. She then felt aware of her gawking and stopped staring at him. He shifted in his seat.

            “I think that would actually make everything better.” Although he was handsome, she didn’t feel like being brazen; she just laid her head back on the bar table facing him.

            “That bad of a day, huh?” He laid his head on the bar table parallel to hers and grinned the most gorgeous, seductive smile that made her face burn rosy pink and made her legs clamp together. Who was this perfect stranger, she thought.

            “You have no idea.” She smiled back. She was having the most difficult time sitting still on her stool.

            “Well, the best way to relieve stress is to talk about what’s the cause of the stress. So, tell me, what happened today?” As he asked, he gave her a reassuring smile. It gave her goose bumps.

            “Are you my shrink, now?” she asked trying so hard not to smile. She can just imagine him in a room with a red couch listening to others talk about their problems, his green eyes vibrant in understanding.

            “I could, be I have a degree in psychiatric medicine and am currently pursuing in my doctorate,” he answered matter-of-factly.

            “Well is this session free then?” she teased.

            “Oh heaven’s no!” he beamed. “You can pay me by letting me buy you a drink.” His green eyes glistened in the dim lights of the pub as they sat there staring at one another.

            “Deal, but first tell me your name.” She sat up due to the stiffness of her neck and offered her hand. He sat up, looked at her hand, and then looked into her eyes. His eyes darkened and gave her an unsettling grin that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

            “The name’s Chester. Gerard Chester.” He took her hand shook it. His grip was powerful, firm, and almost controlling. Then he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it delicately. Bonabelle should have felt uncomfortable; she hated being in vulnerable situations, but she found she liked it. What really should have alerted her was him caressing the palm of her hand and his eyes.