A Higher Form of Love

Steam rose gently from the damp streets, soaking the air with white mist. As the St. James Theatre emptied, the crowd of waiting cabs thinned out. Few people wanted to walk home that night - the air was frightfully hot and muggy, with purple clouds hovering darkly over London.

I fanned myself lazily with a limp hand. The gentleman I had been waiting for had never arrived. He had chickened out at the last second or been waylaid by a questioning wife, I assumed. A shame, it was, because I rarely picked up so much on the streets as I did from a pre-arranged appointment. The extra was for not tipping off the police, beforehand - not that I would. As if I'd get myself locked away for the remainder of my youth, just to see one of them be carted away! But the London gentry did get so worked up about such things.

Still, one missed encounter was no great loss to me; there was always someone to entertain, in a crowd like this - new players, hopeful types haunting the stage door, intent on wooing the gullible, young theatre boys. Well, nine times of ten, they'd be dissapointed there. Most of the theatre boys weren't so, and those that were didn't need to risk dalliances with the better classes. Never mind, gents, I'll keep you company...

I spotted a likely individual warming three feet of pavement, pacing back and forth. Everytime someone passed him, he would make the pretence of checking his watch. Casual-like, making out he was waiting for somebody. He was, of course, but not somebody who was likely to meet him on the brightly lit steps of the St. James. The nervous flicker of his eyes towards the alley, leading around to the back of the Theatre, persuaded me that he was indeed the type I took him for. Don't worry, your Lordship. You'll not wait long...

I sauntered out from my choice shadow and crossed the road into the light of the street lamps. The gentleman's eyes fixed on me as I approached him. A pretty thing, I was, in those days. My neatly combed blonde hair and bright brown eyes twinkled in the lamplight. "Spare a light, sir?" I asked with a winning smile, pulling a cigarette from my pocket. He did his best to look disapproving, as though he wasn't usually one to waste matches on street urchins. Oh, don't be like that, sir. Don't you like me? Well, whatever his public misgivings, he struck me a light and I carefully drew my fingertips across the back of his hand as I guided the match. "Thank you, sir. I am very much obliged." I released a sultry stream of smoke and gave a him a light wink - easy enough to explain if need be. "Something in my eye, govenor. So sorry to cause any offense." - before turning away and crossing back to my alley on the other side of street. I shot him a glance over my shoulder just as I disappeared into the darkness. Shouldn't be too long now. One, two, I counted under my breath, three, footsteps on the shining wet flags, four, a hestitant pause on the curb, five...

A/N:You like?Worth continuing? Do let me know.