The Woman With the Gold Stilettos

Click to View Show Anyway

She was naked except for a sleek pair of gold stilettos, diamond earrings, and ruby red lipstick. It made for a stunning contrast against her jet-black hair and steel blue eyes.

I was planted on the couch and hadn't blinked since she entered the room.

"Oh, Pierre. What chiselled cheeks you have, I could cut my hands slapping that face."

She stood in front of me, ineluctable, shameless... at ease.

"Can you put something on. Anything? A napkin, perhaps?"

"Does the sight of me naked make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Not at all, but there's a time and place for everything, and if I was in that mood, I'd open a laptop."

I took off my overcoat and flung it. With one fell swoop, she thrust her arms into the long sleeves, sat in that tall armchair and elegantly crossed her slender legs.

"Shall I open the safe and get this over with, my love?"

"Pierre, I see no safe in this room, do you?"

I walked to the painting on the far wall, above the fireplace, and pushed it to the left — the hinges held fast, and that frame swung to the side.

"And the combination is?"

She smiled coyly. "I've given it to you... many times."

I paused and thought, "Of course."

I punched six numbers into the digital keypad.

"Your measurements flatter you."

"Oh, you're good, aren't you?"

The lock clicked, and the door to that vault opened to reveal an empty space. I turned to face her and the stern look she now held.

"Someone has beaten you to the prize?"

"Hardly, I believe you moved the contents. We can play this fucking game all night. Shall I guess where, or will you only pretend to lead me towards what is mine?"

"Disguise is always a self-portrait, isn't it? I'm not helping you find anything."

"No, I don't imagine that you would."

Two men in suits entered the room carrying the tools of their trade — pointed at my body.

She stood up and leered. "I should have handcuffed you to the fucking bed and had you begging."

I laughed. "You knew where I kept them."

"Till we meet again. In court, perhaps? I'll mail you your coat."

With a smile and a twirl, she strutted out of the room. The door closed behind her.

The doorbell suddenly rang.

It was my brother Luc.

"I brought the pizza. Watcha doin', little brother?"

"Writing a screenplay."

"Really? About what?"

"About my EX and the last time we spoke."

"OH. How's THAT going?"

"Not sure how I'm going to end it."

"Well, she got everything. You know how it ended."

"Not in MY version."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't decided if those guns were loaded, or if they were bluffing. Mine was on the couch under a pillow."

"I'm not even going to fucking ask. You want a beer?"

Luc walked to the kitchen with the pizza.

"Hey, what's with these cuffs on the table? And do you want a beer... or not?"

I was thinking.

• Are you the type to replay things in your head, or do you move on ?

Click to View Show Anyway

... Compulsory click bait...