Tash stumbled around the corner from Brunswick Street into Terrace, her ankle turning just enough to toss her just off balance. She grabbed the street sign, steadying herself. Whoa, gotta watch that pavement. Can’t be the Bundys and Coke – last one was ages ago. More likely these silly fuck me shoes. Eased against the upright of the sign, she grinned to herself – the shoes had already paid their way.
She breathed in, reliving the smell of him lingering in her nostrils. Cheap aftershave maybe, but it was a change to be with someone who made some effort. She could feel his mouth on hers and taste the mingling of beer and rum. She frowned, trying to recall his face, but she couldn’t summon it through the haze. She searched for his name, but it stayed out of reach. Darren was it, or Justin? A shrug. Who cares?
Her body memory still held him though. She could feel the weight of him across her pelvis, and the rhythm of his thrusting. Over too soon, but you learn not to expect too much. Tash strained further into memory to reclaim the warmth of skin on skin, his breath in the hollow of her shoulder.
Steadying herself, she looked down the street, with the dark beginning to lift and the houses rosy in the dawn light. Everything quiet, for now at least. She wanted to get home before the street stirred – the old woman would be out soon, shuffling to her bin and scratching her broom down the path. The yuppie would be setting off on his run. Strange mix this street – faded timber houses next to glass and steel villas next to orange brick with white columns. The old, the poor, the rich, and her – the nothing.
The girl and the dogs were upon her before Tash was aware and it was too late to avoid them. She looked to Tash to be about her own age – 25 maybe, 30 tops – but from some other world. A world of nice teeth, gyms, overseas holidays and dinners at restaurants with wine served in deep fine glasses. Tash stepped closer to the road edge of the narrow pavement to create space the girl to pass.
It was the dog that stopped her. It dropped in front of her, running its wet warm tongue over her bare instep and up her shin. Tash stood still, transfixed by the eyes looking up into hers.
“Sorry” the girl said, giving the lead an ineffectual tug, “but she’s determined to make friends with you. Maisie’s a bit shyer”. The second dog was slight and scrawny, and held back, watchful. “This is Lucy, she’s really taken a shine to you.”
Maisie’s more my style, Tash wanted to say, but her eyes went to the dog still licking her ankle. Its eyes, half obscured by fluff, locked hers. It wagged its tail, all expectation and trust.
“You can pat her”, the girl invited.
Tash willed herself to walk away but couldn’t. She was thinking “piss off with your bloody dogs” but her hand reached down to the dog. It stretched toward her, leaning gently on her shin. Tash crouched and, taking a hand either side of its face, muzzled it to her cheek.
