Kiss ‘n’ Ride

Antique furniture reminded her of childhood. An inhalation of leather, vanish, and aftershave

Sydney’s Parliament House felt lush and homely after the confinement of ‘home.’

A tall, dark, nearly-stranger made eyes across the room. Power-lady work attire was clearly a
turn on. He bee lined toward her, silver cufflinks matching the glint in his eye. He’d never
noticed her before, but now she could afford quality clothes…due to no rent.

‘We are going down here?’ Oily stained concrete stairs from Abercrombie Lane to a black pit.

She foresaw a slip, hit, and her head bringing red to the darkness. Did she trust him? Well-
chiselled face, closely shaved, and pinstriped suit: so safe. Suits lie, she sternly reminded

herself. First step: hard concrete. Shrill fear. Next steps: easier until blinded by light.

The radiance revealed Palma and Co. Described by Google Maps as, ‘A Classy 1920s-themed
cocktail bar in a vaulted brick basement with dapper staff and live music.’ An imposing painted
print of Napoleon astride his dapper Arabian gelding elevated the occasion, ‘Marengo.’ They
were little Napoleons following their divine stars.

Holding a fresh pineapple-shell filled with Pina Colada in one hand, he took her other hand and
found a corner by themselves. She might have known what was coming, but her innocent mind
thought he was pointing out another painting. He leant in for the kiss. Her brain raced to catch
up. How had his hand felt in hers? How did she feel about this man? His lips were on hers, cold
and greasy. That’s right: he’d eaten salmon. She kissed back out of politeness, like accepting a
bread roll at the dinner table. Before long, he pulled away with satisfaction licking his lips, ‘So

relaxing.’ Something crawled under her skin. She still pranked him from the ink-stained napkin
with his number.

He offered to drop her home. She accepted. It was gentlemanly of him to offer. Silence, in his
sleek BMW to her ‘home.’ She really did have nothing to say to this man.

He pulled up by a scratched campervan.

‘Thank-you for a delightful evening,’ practiced charm covered exiting his vehicle for hers.
What will he make of mine? A thrill of excitement rippled through her, the strongest of the
evening.

Are you ok? I just saw you get into a van, he texted.

I’m safe, she texted back.

She never heard from him again.

Safer in the gutter, she muffled.

A short vantasy story.

Driven into a full-length theatrical cabaret.
Accelerating into a web-series.
gigipinwill.com/vanlife