Alleyway Affair
"A wrong turn on the estate leads to a right turn into the arms of a mysterious beauty"
Shortcuts on the estate were always a gamble. Save five minutes but risk everything else. This particular night, the gamble paid off in ways I hadn't expected.
The alleyway between Tower D and Tower E was darker than usual—one of the streetlights had been smashed, probably by kids, leaving just enough shadows to hide anything. I walked fast, head down, the way you learn to walk in places like this.
Then I heard her.
"Got a light?"
She stepped out of the shadows like she'd been waiting. Small thing, barely visible in the darkness, cigarette unlit between her fingers. I could make out piercings catching what little light there was, cropped hair, too many rings.
"Yeah." I pulled out my lighter, cupped my hand against the wind. Her face flickered into view.
Gorgeous. Sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, lips painted black. Goth edge to her that didn't quite fit the estate aesthetic but worked anyway.
"Cheers." She took a long drag, exhaled slowly. "You live here?"
"Tower C. You?"
"Visiting." She didn't elaborate. "Nice night for a walk."
"If you like dark alleys and broken streetlights."
She laughed—low, musical. "I do, actually. Less witnesses."
"Witnesses to what?"
"This."
She kissed me before I could react. Her mouth was cool from the night air, her tongue warm and insistent. She tasted of cigarettes and something sweet, and her hands were already under my jacket.
"Don't speak," she breathed. "Just go with it."
"I don't even know your name."
"Does it matter?"
It didn't. Not when she was pulling me deeper into the alley, not when her hands were on my belt, not when the danger of it was making everything more intense.
"Here," she said, pushing me against the brick wall. "Now."
She dropped to her knees right there in the alley, freed me from my jeans, took me in her mouth without preamble. The cold night air and her hot mouth created a contrast that made me gasp.
"Fuck—"
"Shh." She looked up, eyes glinting in the darkness. "Someone might hear."
She went back to work, and I had to bite my own hand to stay quiet. She was skilled—too skilled, like she'd done this before, many times, in many alleys.
"Your turn," she said eventually, standing. "Against the wall."
We switched positions. She hiked up her skirt—black, short—revealing no underwear, just pale skin and a small tattoo I couldn't make out.
"Eat me."
I dropped to my knees, pressed my face between her thighs. She was wet—properly wet—and the sound she made when my tongue found her clit echoed off the brick walls.
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. She tasted of want and something darker, and I ate her like my life depended on it.
"Gonna come—already—don't stop—"
She came with her thighs clenching around my head, shaking against the wall. Before she'd recovered, she was pulling me up.
"Inside me. Now."
"Condom?"
"I've got one." She produced it from somewhere—pocket, bra, didn't matter—and rolled it on herself. "There. Now fuck me."
I lifted her against the wall, her legs wrapping around me. She was light, easy to hold, and when I pushed in, she bit my shoulder to muffle her moan.
"Hard and fast," she gasped. "We don't have long."
I gave her what she wanted. The wall scraped my hands, the cold bit at any exposed skin, but she was hot inside, tight, and making sounds that were worth any discomfort.
"Yes—just like that—don't stop—"
Someone walked past the end of the alley. We froze, pressed together, barely breathing. Footsteps faded. We continued.
"Close—gonna come again—"
I shifted angle, hit something that made her gasp. She came with a shudder that I felt through my whole body, clenching around me.
"Inside—fill me up—"
I came hard, muffling my groan against her neck, feeling her pulse around me.
We stayed there for a moment, connected, breathing hard.
Then she was gone. Slipped down, straightened her skirt, stepped back into the shadows.
"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."
"Wait—your name—"
"Does it matter?"
She kissed me once more—quick, impersonal—and disappeared down the alley.
I stood there, adjusting my clothes, trying to process what had just happened.
I never saw her again. Not in the estate, not anywhere.
But sometimes, walking through that alley late at night, I slow down. Just in case.
Some mysteries are worth hoping for.