The Caress of Perfume in the Summer Air

When it was three-fifteen and I drove to the corner near Oxford Street, she was waiting.

Dressed exactly the same as the day before, with her bowler at a jaunty angle on her head and leaning on her brolly.

Relaxed and calm, like she had all the time in the world.

She got into the back of the cab.

I could smell the waft of her perfume again. Absolutely delightful.

I was so happy, I couldn’t help it, so I turned to smile at her, and said ‘Hi.’

She just smiled at me formally, but refused to say anything.

Acting the lady of the manor, I suppose.

You know, a bit of a status gap.

‘Drive please,’ she said, avoiding the chance for any chit-chat or contact.

– The Lady Loves to Strip