Brooke was sitting on the step besides the cafe door, her head lowered and eyes to her knees. Her short dark blonde hair fell against her cheeks in gentle, but untamed curls that lifted slightly with each soft breeze.
Her face was hidden in shadows, but as Nigel got closer, he could see the familiar freckles across her nose, the cute dimples in her pink cheeks and those lips. Her mouth was small and her bottom lip, a little fuller than the top. Nigel liked the way they dipped so prominently in the centre, almost like a heart. He could stare at those lips all day.
He remembered the first time he saw Brooke. It had been in her interview, around a year or so ago. He had wanted to touch her lips even then, run a finger across them, push them against his skin to feel their warmth. They looked so soft, so inviting…and when he did finally touch them, press his own lips against hers, it was better than he had ever imagined. It was like kissing satin, like having silk brush across his mouth, it was glorious.
Nigel smiled at her, as Brooke stood up from the step, but her own lips remained straight. She never smiled much, but he could tell she was happy to see him. He could see it in her eyes.
She shifted her weight slightly from one hip to the other, as her fingers fiddled under the sleeves of her long grey cardigan.
Nigel reached a hand towards her and caught her fingers. He pulled at them, rescuing them from the depths of the cotton. It wasn’t just her lips that were soft, her hands were too and so small. He weaved his fingers through hers. They were twice the size, but their hands slotted together like two parts of a jigsaw. He leaned forwards and pressed an affection kiss to the corner of her lips.
He kept his mouth close to face as he spoke and rubbed his other hand over her knuckles gently. “You’re cold.”
She wriggled in his grip and pulled her hand away and back under her cardigan.
He leant into her neck and breathed her in. She smelt of faintly of powder and soap. He parted his lips and bit her neck slightly.
She gasped and pulled back.
Nigel grinned. She liked it when he did that.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he smiled, his hand searching his pocket for the keys.
She nodded, her eyes still lowered. She was wearing a long black skirt today and a vest top that had fallen so low, the top of her nude coloured bra was showing.
She stepped towards the door, as it opened, but Nigel stopped her. “Careful darling.” He traced a finger across the brim of bra.
She kept her eyes pinned to the ground, as he pulled up at her vest.
She was his. It was his flesh to admire. No one else’s. After all, she was an expired Donee and she owed society her life. All those taxes they paid, all that money she now had. And if she didn’t want her secret getting out, she owed him. And he would gladly take her. Entirely. Solely. His.