Black Phoenix

Part 1

The day begun as all the others. Nothing special, nothing that stood out. The same ritual in the morning, pressing snooze four times before finally getting up. The same postman throwing the newspaper on her doorstep. The same damn dog barking at random branches and the same loud laughter coming from the neighbor's house. It almost felt like she was outside of her body watching her life unfold.

Too tired to fully open her eyes she rushed in the kitchen to brew some coffee and maybe eat a snack before work. By 'rush' I mean literally dragging her feet making a squeaky sound that would annoy any breathing creature. Good thing she lives alone. Why do you ask? Who would put up with her tantrums and random breakdowns. Her parents? Well they are long gone. Not dead though, at least not literally dead, just for her.

After forty minutes of winning she was out the door, holding an old purse that had pretty much everything you would think such an object would contain. Lipstick, old chips , an half full water bottle, some gum, old receipts, you name it, this object meant to beautify women had it.

She got in her 1969 Chevrolet Camaro, and to her surprise, it started from the first key. A beautiful car, but old, and in need of reparations. She didn't care though, she was happy it got her where she wanted.

There are a few things she really cares about and by things, i really mean things. It sounds sad and lonely but this is what she wants, this is what makes her happy. She doesn't care much to have friends. It gives her total control upon her life and her decisions. She could pack up everything and move on the other side of the world. She liked that thought, to live like there's no tomorrow.

Sadly, there is a tomorrow and a today. She needed to get to work as soon as possible. I would like to say that she was raised better than to swear in traffic, but she wasn't.

-Move you stupid fuck! What are you waiting for? Move fucker!!

It was late but that's not the reason she was in a hurry. She doesn't care about that. She made a habit out of being late. In fact she's not in a hurry at all. So why did she get so violent? Maybe she just doesn't like old men in red cars, or maybe she doesn't like men in general.

She came in getting her coat off without any stutter and hanging it without looking. The cabinet was full this morning but it wasn't such a bad thing. This was after all the only human contact she has. She's not a doctor if that's what you're thinking. She's just a secretary for a very well known neurologist. From her desk she could peak in the ' action room' as she likes to call it. There's not much action other than old ladies coming with illnesses and irrational fears. She could see the doctor, a tall man in his 40's, once brunet, but now with more gray streaks. He had a big back with muscles that you could see moving even when he breathes. She sees that every morning , and he doesn't mind, as he winks at her every time they make eye contact through the cracked door. She also knows that the door it's left like that on purpose by him.

She is not a common girl either, with full lips that look like she just bit from the hottest pepper, dark eyes, not black , neither brown, but somewhere in between. Her nose is slim and aquiline. Arched eyebrows contour her face perfectly giving her a mysterious allure. She rarely smiles but when she does, you want to think at the funniest story you know just to see hers again. The most striking feature is by far her eyes. I always thought that the eyes are the most important weapon a woman can have. She is the kind of woman that could get anything with a smile and the right stare. Her dark wavy locks that touch her mid-back dangle effortlessly and with a tiny waist, long legs and the right pair of high heels she could probably rule the world.

She is truly beautiful and men all around her noticed that. She doesn't seem to mind it. She knows she is being looked at like the most wanted prize. She takes advantage of that. She takes advantage of weak men. And why wouldn't she.

If your eyes slip lower to her chest, besides her generous breasts you see a name tag : Blanka Tesar, slovak name. She didn't know much about this country, just that her grandfather was from there and he insisted that she would carry the legacy. And what a legacy. Living in Boston with such a name it's not an easy task.

At the end of the day she barely felt tired. She just felt bored. She took her phone out and started to play a little game that kept her un until 2 AM once. She looked once again through the cracked door and saw that James, the doctor was staring at her with a smile for a while. She looked into his eyes. She knew what was going to happen. For the two months she has been working there, James has been hitting on her. That didn't scare her, she didn't feel abused. She knew what effect her gaze had on men, so she looked at him with only one desire in mind. He had that look too.