~Nika~
Planetoid
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2012
It was a hot and muggy night, but the slender figure who flitted quickly under dim stuttering streetlights was bundled into a long coat, it's hood drawn up and pulled down to cast a delicate face into shadow. Despite this censorious precaution, it was no stretch of the imagination to see past the bulky coat and to the slight body it hung from.
See a hooded pair of eyes did, from the corner of the street. A tight smile wormed it's way onto a stubbled jaw as he turned from his conversation partners to follow the figure's hurried path. That girl, that late-night waitress always walked this way home, in her coat, with it's hood up, even in the hottest summer nights. Hoarse chuckling coughed from a group of deepening smirks. The man flicked his cigarette down as she passed their small party, eying the way pretty ankles flirted with him, peaking out just beneath those clinging black tights and just above work-appropriate black tennis shoes. A heavy boot crushed it into the gravel, grinding the butt into oblivion.
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Alix hated walking home on friday nights. The bars and strip clubs were seeding until early morning, but the restaurant in which she worked only remained open until 12 closing. That meant she had to take the closing walk of shame, each night, past the fringes of the red light district, in order to get to the street from which she could make her way to her small apartment. She could deal with the usual night of cat-calls, and propositions of a few harried-to-leave customers. Except, friday nights were the worst. Friday nights the streets were dangerous.
It was no mystery as to why Alix had adopted the habit of wearing baggy pants to work, and a baggy sack of a coat with a broad hood home after the first few times she had been mistaken for a street-walker. However, this week she had opted for lighter and cooler, if more revealing, yoga pants under the long coat. Alix picked up her a brisk pace, eyes set ahead, brows furrowed, and phone clutched in her palm. Despite the measures she took, she could still feel the stares creeping up the back of her neck. There was nothing she could do to hide her small stature or height.
She'd taken this job six months ago, and despite her hatred for the district of town it was in, she needed the money. As she passed a group of men who looked to be drinking, leaning against the side of a building along the street corner, she cursed quietly under her breath.
See a hooded pair of eyes did, from the corner of the street. A tight smile wormed it's way onto a stubbled jaw as he turned from his conversation partners to follow the figure's hurried path. That girl, that late-night waitress always walked this way home, in her coat, with it's hood up, even in the hottest summer nights. Hoarse chuckling coughed from a group of deepening smirks. The man flicked his cigarette down as she passed their small party, eying the way pretty ankles flirted with him, peaking out just beneath those clinging black tights and just above work-appropriate black tennis shoes. A heavy boot crushed it into the gravel, grinding the butt into oblivion.
-----
Alix hated walking home on friday nights. The bars and strip clubs were seeding until early morning, but the restaurant in which she worked only remained open until 12 closing. That meant she had to take the closing walk of shame, each night, past the fringes of the red light district, in order to get to the street from which she could make her way to her small apartment. She could deal with the usual night of cat-calls, and propositions of a few harried-to-leave customers. Except, friday nights were the worst. Friday nights the streets were dangerous.
It was no mystery as to why Alix had adopted the habit of wearing baggy pants to work, and a baggy sack of a coat with a broad hood home after the first few times she had been mistaken for a street-walker. However, this week she had opted for lighter and cooler, if more revealing, yoga pants under the long coat. Alix picked up her a brisk pace, eyes set ahead, brows furrowed, and phone clutched in her palm. Despite the measures she took, she could still feel the stares creeping up the back of her neck. There was nothing she could do to hide her small stature or height.
She'd taken this job six months ago, and despite her hatred for the district of town it was in, she needed the money. As she passed a group of men who looked to be drinking, leaning against the side of a building along the street corner, she cursed quietly under her breath.