At the right time, in the right place
Mark was sitting in a cafe, as always at this time of day—lunch break, just half an hour between runs around the city. Mark worked as a courier for one of those little firms that had sprung up on every corner. The firm was involved in something unclear, but he suspected it had to do with surveillance and gathering compromising materials. A client comes in, places an order, and then people, who always remain unnoticed, dig up information not meant for outside ears or eyes. Of course, it was all dangerous and fraught with potential trouble, but he, as a courier, an uninterested party, believed it wouldn't touch him. His work was thankless and poorly paid.
On top of that, things with his girlfriend had gone sour again. Well, he couldn't give them more attention than quick sex (or rather, not so quick…) a couple of times a week. He didn't understand what else they wanted from him. Why did anyone even need relationships?! In a relationship, a person becomes dependent on another, who needs that?! A person should be self-sufficient, independent, they don't need any attachments, they only hinder progress toward the Great Goal! Like all men, he believed he should create something significant in his life, discover something, invent something, push progress forward, but so far, he saw no paths to realize his plans.Mark noticed a girl sitting at the next table. This cafe was clearly not for her, and this not-too-cozy spot only emphasized her extraordinariness. She was simply divine: light hair, huge eyes, delicate skin, and a figure to the most refined taste. Her long, slender legs in sheer tights, shimmering slightly in the cafe's dim light, simply drew the eye. She wore a light dress that reached her knees. The stranger sat staring out the window; it was noticeable she was nervous. Then a striking brunette entered the cafe, also with a figure, just as fragile—there was something similar about the girls. The brunette sat down at the table with the fair-haired one, and they began talking nervously about something.
The lunch break ended, and Mark rushed off on his errands. As always, he needed to deliver an envelope to a certain place. Traffic, as always, delayed him; he couldn't stand that. Arriving at the location, he didn't immediately find the right door: no signs, no identifying marks, how was that possible?!
After knocking, he entered the office. It was tastefully furnished: ebony furniture and everything else to match. Mark barely restrained a grimace of surprise—as strange as the coincidence was, sitting at the desk was the brunette he had seen so recently in the cafe. She gave him an unfriendly look and said:
— What are you staring at? Clearly, you have nothing better to do!
Such a dismissive attitude was strange, considering their brief acquaintance by chance, especially since Mark was quite handsome and always liked by girls. He handed her the envelope and, unable to resist, said:
— You could have been more polite!
To which he almost immediately heard in response:
— Go to hell, who are you to tell me off?!
Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had given her the wrong envelope. He checked—exactly, how could he mess up so badly?! He didn't want to go back. He decided to peek inside the envelope; there were photographs, showing this brunette with some man in a rather indecent situation. A typical case. Probably, she had cheated on someone, and that someone decided to get proof. But the firm hadn't been idle and offered the brunette to buy the compromising material at a higher price. What can you do—business… Most likely, that's how it was.
The next day, Mark was again having lunch in the same cafe. And those two girls came in again. This time, they were arguing so heatedly that they decided to continue sorting things out in the women's restroom to avoid attracting too much attention. Mark, after thinking, followed them, but into the men's room. He simply couldn't not find out what these two would discuss; thirst for knowledge above all! From the men's restroom, there was a perfect view into the women's (over the top of the partition). What a fortunate layout?! The restroom was empty; the girls stood by the sinks and animatedly continued.
— How could you, Lika? I know you slept with him, don't deny it!
— Maybe I did, maybe I didn't? Do you have proof?
— No, but there will be!
— Are you sure about that? Calm down, don't panic, you know—I don't need anyone but you! I do everything for you, how can you not understand?!
— And you sleep with men for me?!
— That's—part of the business, Pati! Stop it! It gives me no pleasure. They're incapable of anything! They don't feel us the way we feel each other!
Mark was in a state of complete shock; he never expected he would ever witness something like this. Swaying and breathing heavily, he left the restroom and the cafe… By the way, no one ever asked for those photos, so no one found out about his blunder…