HUNTER

2

"Angie" I squeak, suddenly petrified and wishing I'd gone home. His smile widens as he senses my discomfort. His perfect pearly whites shining at me through the rubble of Harold's rustic bar. He boldly takes the barstool beside me, and I quickly looked around to make sure it wasn't some sort of mistake. He was actually talking to me. The gaggle of hens had stopped clucking at poor Harold. They now stared obviously at the man beside me, mouths hanging open like an invitation. Biting his lip he slides his hand over to my glass of whiskey and downs it, his eyes focused on me. Letting out a slow breath, his eyes roam over me like a sweet caress making goosebumps rise over my skin. He clucks his tongue thoughtfully then nods towards the door, "want to get out of here, Angie?"
Surprised, I fumble for words.
"I have an eight year old bourbon back at my place," his voice whispers into my ear seductively. "No one around to watch. Just me and you." His breath against my skin made me go all tingly. So much so that an involuntary moan came out in a breath. This seemed to please him as he bit his lip, harder this time. His hand moving against the flesh of my thigh, over my jeans. Everything seemed to slip away. There was just me, these overpowering sensations, and his red tie glinting at me in the darkness like a lighthouse and I was lost at sea. His hand found mine and before I knew what was happening I was being led out of the bar and down the road to where a BMV red convertible waited expectantly.

His house, like him, was perfect. Everything was clean, sterilised, and white. As you walked into the victorian house that sat alone on Bakers Lane, the first thing that hits you is the sheer whiteness of the interior. Also, the modernity of the interior doesn't reflect the outside, so I was baffled to find lush black sofas, marble kitchen worktops, and a cinema sized television on the wall of the sitting room.
When I got out of the car to see an artistic masterpiece of a house I expected something more subtle. Turns out, Hunter, doesn't do subtle. Nothing about him was subtle. From his adonis good looks, to his choice of interior design. Hunter, it appeared to me, was flash. Someone who liked to show off what they had in unusual ways. One moment you think you're entering a sweet, old house that the owner loved and preserved, but then you step inside to the surprisingly obnoxious interior which slaps you in the face like a hammer. I suddenly felt uneasy as he left me in his living room to go get the liquor from the kitchen. Leaving me with the oversized leather sofa, and the weird looking statue in the corner. Carefully, I poke it in the cheek just to make sure it wouldn't come alive. No, it was solid stiff under my touch. Satisfied I backed off, and sunk myself into the sofa.

Hunter came back a few minutes later brandishing a bottle of expensive looking whiskey and two glasses. His demeanour was cat like as he slunk is way across the hardwood floors and sat beside me. Handing me a drink he tapped my glass with his, "you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Angelica." Blushing, I smile avoiding eye contact as my name rolled off his tongue like velvet, and take a sip to hide my embarrassment. It was rare when I was given a compliment about anything, but when I did I struggled to take it. As though I didn't deserve it. And I didn't. Not really. Then something occurred to me. My eyes shot to his, "how do you know my name?"
"Angie?" He said, frowning. "You told me." He set his drink down with a casual chuckle, sitting back to continue speaking, "at the bar, remember?"
"Not then, now." I said, feeling a swelling urge to move away. So I did. I stood making some distance between us. "Angelica, how did you know that's my name?"
"Angie, is everything alright?" He stood, raising his hands in a surrender sign. Trying to calm me.
"I never told you what my full name was," I began to panic as he moved closer. I backed away, around the sofa using it as a barrier. "How do you know, damn it?" I demanded, slowly moving backwards towards the hallway. Every step I took he matched it. Shortening to distance between us.
"Angie, calm down. What's going on?" He soothed. Shaking my head I tried not to vomit as full blown panic hit me. Then my stomach groaned, my head felt heavy as a fog overwhelmed me, forcing me to the ground. My breathing turned rabid and the last thing I saw was Hunter picking me up into his arms saying, "my Angelica."