In the wilderness of the Sahara where not a single flower was able to bloom, a woman, majestic in her every aspect of existence, sat. Sand beneath her bum and the cold breeze of night on her face, she sat smiling. A nice smile. A smile resembling angels, her entire being resembled angels. As she sat and smiled and the breeze flowed through her, little pieces of her hair began to fly up towards the night sky. Purple strands of hair, the moonlight making them look like firefly's from a fairy tale. Purple flies, floating in the air, only fading when a cloud made its way past the moon. Her hair easily reached the bum she sat so comfortably with, making it easier for the flies to make love to the moonlight. Like a scene from a movie she thought, still smiling, still looking like an angel.

She knew the desert, she'd been here before. Same story, same moonlight, same dress. Same dress she thought. The dress made for a wedding, red with a rose the shade of her hair in the breast. Lace down the back, if tied any tighter her ribs would've been piercing her heart. She looked perfect. No she was perfect. She loved how the dress reached the middle of her perfect thighs, not perfect in her eyes of course, they never are. She knew of her perfection but the thighs of her own never met her standards.

She still sat smiling, breeze still flowing through every ounce of her being. She loved it. Sand couldn't have felt better in her toes and the lack of noise was deafening in itself. Not the bad sort of deafening, the sort you need when you’re at a restaurant or some sort of situation you really don't want to be in. Swaying now, her body, her brilliant body. More curves than a circle and a complexion that made people question their very ability to see. She swayed. No noise, sand, her dress and herself. She was in a bubble of time she didn't want to be popped. A glass of wine now. In her left hand, the glass shining discretely with the assistance of the purple fireflies. The pool inside the glass was the shade of blood; probably as thick as blood too she chuckled. She took a sip, divine. The lake bid farewell to Chery lips yet again and she lowered her arm.

This is heaven. Now I just need to...

Before she could finish her thought a hand shook her shoulder. Not the shoulder that looked so perfect in that dress but a shoulder that was sitting comfortably in between a mattress and a duvet.

C’mon” a familiar voice echoed in her mind.

Opening her eyes in disgust of the woman who'd forced them open, she groaned.

Any need?” she couldn’t believe the words formed in her mouth, the objects in the room weren’t even identifiable to her through the sleep in her eyes so how she could make words was a mystery.

The same need as always” the voice was harsh, not a “you’re a bitch harsh” but the kind of harsh you expected from a 30 a day smoker. After the words had rung in the ears of the woman not so long awakened, she left, leaving a poor soul to fight the temptation of going back to bed. As she fought the same battle she did ever morning, the woman whose name was Lilly gave in. She gave in to the same force she did every morning, the force known as responsibility. She dragged herself up from beneath the satin sheets and headed for the shower.

She turned the nozzle, silver and oblique. As it made a churning sound the water rose from the pipes and out of the carousel of tiny holes above. She stepped in, holding the railing on the side of the white tiled wall, careful not to fall. Her hair bouncing on her buttocks even when she hadn't washed it. Raising her hands to her scalp, she tied the hair into a knot before sighing and reaching for the shampoo...

As the dreary task of washing an obscene amount of hair was over, she emerged from the shower victorious. Purple hair in a towel the same shade, a blue towel wrapped around her body, the breasts owned by the women of perfection peeking out from above. She sang gleefully, hopping, jumping and just about everything she could do to express happiness, she whipped the towel from her head and dried her hair. She wasn't happy and she knew that but the illusion of happiness worked just as well. After drying her hair and slipping into her usual black bra, white see through top and a black pair of skinnies, she left the apartment and headed for work.


Cracked cobblestone, a nippy breeze and the ego the size of a queens chandelier, she knew how to strut her stuff down the icy streets of York. As big as her ego was, she felt no need to shove it in the face of others. Her ass sat in her pants like a cougher in her leather and her hair, as soft as fox fur and the length of her ego, bounced like a pedophile on a bouncy castle. She had no reason to shove her beauty in people’s faces, it just happened and she loved it. Her cheeks wiggling and her face showing true beauty and superiority without even trying, she made her way to work.

"Hey Paul" She'd just got into work and thought best, as she always did, to say hi to her boss.

"You alright Lilly, looking mighty fine today if I may say so myself"

"You’d say it anyway" she smirked and winked at him, closing the door behind herself and returning to the cubicle she worked from.

She despised him, Paul. 5ft, chubby and more grease on his skin than a deep fat fryer. He was mild today, some days he'd comment "on how lush her tits were" or "when she's going to open her legs for him". Vulgar man.

She hated him, loathed him. But she knew he had the potential to be a nice guy. She'd listened in on his phone calls when his dad had passed away, he'd console his sister like a mother would her child and although he was taking personal calls at work he never took a day off to mourn him. She still loathed him though, his very being, but this wasn't enough. Not enough for her to act on it.

The telephone rang and the screen lit up telling her which company she was to be, "hello, timber and co. How may we help you?"

She was a secretary for multiple companies, the screen would light up with the name the business or firm, she'd answer as them and appointments or inquires would be fed back to the client who'd hired her service. Easy. She loved her job. Her boss was infatuated with her so only gave her 3 clients whilst the others working in the building had a minimum of 5. Just one of the many perks she gained by saying hi every morning and looking drop dead gorgeous without any effort on her part. Most of her day would be playing solitaire or twiddling with her hair, rearranging pencils on her desk or in the most serious of cases, cleaning it.

She was bored, not bored enough to clean but bored enough to contemplate it. Clock ticking and people muttering she twiddled her thumbs, counting the minutes till she could go and ask her boss if he wanted any lunch and then go get some for herself. The clock struck 12.45, calmly she arose from her comfy chair with wheels, (the rest of the workers didn't have comfy chairs) and left behind the desk which has neatly decorated in different coloured pencils, all ranging from pink to blue to brown. Knocking on her bosses’ door he shook his head and strutted off to her lunch, wasn't much of a break even in her eyes.


Cheese, pickles, tuna and mustard. The same she ate every day. Not quite understanding how it worked, she bit into the baguette and flicked through the girly magazine that lay in direct attack of crumbs falling through the air. She bushed them away and turned the page whilst thinking to herself, I do that more than necessary what's going to happen if I don't flick them?

As the pickles and tuna crawled into her stomach and more crumbs flew through the air, she noticed a man.

6ft 2, black hair brown eyes and the eeriness of a 1970's horror.

She always noticed him. Eating alone, the same time she did. She never thought of the possibility that he might be stalking her, instead she felt sorry for him. Whilst she was always alone she felt like she still gave a happy vibe. A vibe of confidence and superiority, not aided by her conscience but just by "being", his eerie vibe reeked of loneliness and self-pity. She took some comfort in that. You’re so full of yourself bitch, and you love it. She was full of herself, and boy did she know it. Comparing herself to someone she felt sorry for and still taking some pride in herself that she was better than him, this was the mind of Lilly and she loved the mind of Lilly. Slightly smirking and arguing with her own thoughts, she finished off the weird baguette she loved so much and continued to flick through her magazine. Wasting time was the key here after all...

Shoes, shoes, perfume, shoes, topless man, shoes, topless man in shoes... A few pages later and shed finished her magazine, one final sigh and she left the cute little café and headed back to "work".

Popping her head into her boss’s office for the penultimate time that day she said her greeting, got violated by his eyes and headed for her cubicle. Pencils still sitting happily she dawdled and dawdled until it was 17.30 and she could go home. A final meeting with her pervy boss and she strutted out the building.

It was raining now, like a film. The ambiance of the city and the raindrops intertwined as perfect as Adam and Eve and she smiled. Not the usual smile that showed she owned herself but a genuine smile indicating she was fond of this "pitter patter" that flew into her eardrums. As she strutted her stuff, as she always did, and headed down the dimly lit street. A man followed her, not an unfamiliar man but a man she felt sorry for. Although she was smart and beautiful, the thought of having a stalker had never crossed her mind. Unlucky for her, the thought she failed to have might've aided her, for the man following her had no pure intentions. Not intending to rape or physically hurt her, he intended to send her on an endless loop of misery and bad decisions. She'd never guess his reason for begrudging her but he hated her. The pity she felt for him didn't even equal to a fraction of how far he was willing to go to make her life hell. Of course, he planned on doing it from the shadows; if it was possible he always lived in the shadows. Heels clacking on the cobblestone she arrived home and removed the fob from her bag, lipstick and other invaluable belongings clattered as she did so and she let out another one of her sighs as the fob failed to open the gate leading to her apartment.

Finally it buzzed and the gate opened, failing to close it behind her she swiped her fob again at the door and entered the building where the bottle of red wine awaited. The bottle of red wine she drunk every night, on that beach in that dress, with no noise. Climbing the stairs and reach room 2 pushed the key into the door opening it up before slamming it behind her. She chucked her bag down, took her clothes off and sunk into the satin sheets, where she'd lay until forced to repeat the boring day tomorrow...

The End

2 comments about this story Feed