I had always been strong willed, I was no fool, so how had this happened to me?
Lies. They start with lies.
My Friday night's have always been kinda special. I'm the first one to admit, I like a good girl's night out. I'm a bit of a party girl, expensive meals, cheap champagne, smokes, I'm not one to hold back when it comes to having fun. So I wasn't surprised when out of the corner of my eye I caught a tall handsome stranger watching me. I'm used to attention.
I've been described as 'striking' in the past. I know I'll never be considered the best looking girl in the room. I'm tall, dark haired and don't possess the 'cute' quality that most men seem to desire, but I have got one advantage over many of the girls around me...I know how to work a room. So I was kind of surprised he picked me. I would have pegged him as one of these men who like perky, small blondes... trophy girlfriends, but it seems I was the one who caught his eye.
Lucky me!
He was very charming, almost too perfect, but looking back now I know it was all a ruse, a game to gain my trust. He told me he was on army leave, due to return in a week, could he meet me again before he left? My friend never liked him from the start, perhaps she saw a glint in his eye, a hidden sign that I somehow missed.
It didn't take me long before I discovered there was a dark side to him. It was on the second date that he spilled out the truth.
He had left the army several years ago, and was due in court on a GBH charge, and would I wait a week, before making a decision on our future? With the benefit of hindsight, I should have done a runner, but somehow he had already managed to play on my sympathetic nature.
It wasn't long before I was invited to visit his flat. He had a large dog, who obeys his every order. He obviously trained it well.
I notice he never answers the phone either when I'm there, preferring to let it ring out.
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Night's out are always a formal affair. Penny collared shirts, houndstooth blazers, overcoats, and of course lots of gold.
As we step down the stairs, and enter the club I notice the crowds part, they stare and back off, leaving a clear path to the edge of the bar.
Our nights out are strange, anyone watching would assume our group were enjoying themselves. The young men look like a group of friends catching up, a little rowdy perhaps, but if you were unlucky enough to step inside their little circle, you would feel it. Never far away is a malevolent underbelly, churning away relentlessly. There is always the constant threat of violence, or a backlash. Everybody sleeps with one eye open.
Pretty girls with long black eyelashes push in between us, and flirt shamelessly with him. He must see it annoys me, not because I feel threatened, I just find them rude. He takes my hand.
