The night was lifting, the sky lightening slowly on the horizon, tinged by the grey light of dawn. Louise had driven through the night, fast, as though someone was following her. But she was alone on her stretch of highway now. She saw the neon lights of a gas station up ahead, and stifled a yawn as she pulled in. The attendants barely glanced at the black Aston Martin, so used to these cars on this road. Louise knew that she would need to change it soon though, as she headed into the city it would be too recognizable, would invite too many glances.
She knew that it was stupid to take that car, his car, but she needed to give him one last insult, the slap in the face that she could never physically give him. She ran hands over the smooth dashboard, reveling in the rich impracticality of such a car. Sighing, she pushed open the door and stepped out onto the smooth concrete. Her legs were unsteady after the hours of solid driving, her eyes heavy. The early air was cool, goose bumps rising on her thin arms. As she stepped across the forecourt towards the small store she felt the attendants eyes follow her hungrily, and heard a wolf whistle from nearer the road. It sounded like a Spaniard.
She was still wearing the clothes of the night before, a short red dress and very high heels. Her long legs were slim and her dark hair lay straight against the bare skin of her back. She had on a thick layer of make up and her eyes were black, still rimmed in heavy eyeliner.
She hated these clothes, but it was remarkable what they could achieve. She sighed again as her heels clicked across the tiles and into the dimly lit store. Her eyes sought the clock above the counter. It was almost 6 a.m. He would already be looking for her. With that a sharp inhale at that thought, she began snatching up supplies. She was running out of time.