The Mistake - Sex Stories

The Mistake

The Mistake. November was such a dark month. The street lights flickered into life illuminating the rapidly darkening city center. The early evening traffic was queuing bumper to bumper now; the ironically named "Rush Hour" had started; frustrated drivers jostling with equally frustrated pedestrians as they tried to get away from the crush of the town center. Angela's taxi edged slowly through the traffic but time was getting short, Angela could not afford to miss the appointment. She leaned forward and tapped on the dividing window, "I'll get out here and walk the rest of the way" she said as she reached into her purse for her last £10.00 note. The taxi dropped her off at the top of the high street just outside one of the swanky hair salons. As she started walking she peered in at the window of one of the salons. She saw the ladies relaxing in black leather chairs lapping up the attention and mock adoration as they were pampered by the young male stylists. In a brief day dreaming moment she imagined what it must be like to have money; for her to sit in one of those black chairs. "Yes the Florida trip was great thanks, we had a lovely time" "Oh Venice, yes I finally got my romantic trip on a Gondola, my husband was there on business and we stayed over for a couple of days." "We simply cannot decide whether to ski again this Christmas" Reality shattered her imagination: "You stupid fucking cow" she muttered under her breath to herself. "The stylists are all gay, you don't ...

... have any money or a husband and if this job does not work out who knows where you will be next week" She quickened her pace. The crumpled scrap of paper she grasped tightly in her hand was unnecessary; the address and phone number scrawled in a shaky hand was burned into her memory, she had thought of nothing else for days now. Angela crossed the road and headed for the pedestrian zone walking between the avenue of brightly lit shops and boutiques. Walking quickly she pulled the collar of her coat up, not because of the cold but rather in an effort to hide her face. Eyes lowered and looking down at the pavement she tried to melt into the crowd, to become anonymous and hope that no one noticed or recognized her. She was surprised to find that Albion St was such a popular area. She eased through the jostling crowds of shoppers, past the brightly lit boutiques and shops and on to the lower end of the street, the area with restaurants and food outlets. Looking carefully for the street numbers on offices and doorways she slowed her pace as she approached her destination; 104 Albion Street. A sudden fear that she was in the wrong place surfaced in her mind. Glancing at her watch she saw it was 28 minutes past 4 , "Shit" she muttered under her breath as she quickened her pace. Her rising panic eased slightly when she saw the single red door with "104" painted in crude black lettering. At least this was not the seedy run down alleyway she had expected. The urge to carry on walking was ...