The Green Eyed Predator

The lock clicked behind her as Sarah closed the door to her tiny apartment, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she slipped off her heels. The weight of the day seemed to lift ever so slightly as she padded barefoot across the worn hardwood floor, her toes brushing the cold surface with every step. She tossed her bag onto the small table by the door, the thud echoing in the quiet space.

The place wasn’t much; a studio with a cramped kitchen and a single window that looked out onto an alley where stray cats often lingered. But it was enough for now, a temporary arrangement. She didn't plan on staying long.

She pulled a takeout container from the fridge. Opening the cover, she separated the meat from the remnants of her half-eaten chicken salad, setting the greens aside and putting the rest in the microwave. Sarah leaned against the counter, arms crossed beneath her breasts, her mind already drifting.

That day had been more fun than any other day in a while. She was getting close.

She smirked, the curve of her lips sharp as a knife. Poor Mr. Granger. Hank. Married. Solid. Dependable. The kind of man who probably spent his weekends mowing the lawn and tinkering with power tools in the garage. A pillar of stability.

And yet, almost predictably, he had been so easy to unravel.

Sarah stirred the salad absentmindedly with her fork, the heat from the microwave doing little to improve its flavor. She didn’t care. Eating was a necessity, not a pleasure, unlike the games she played with men like Hank.

The thought made her pulse quicken. She loved the chase, the thrill of watching a man squirm under her gaze, the way his breath hitched when she leaned in just a little too close. Power was a ****, and she was hopelessly addicted.

Her boss wasn't her first time playing this game. She was, after all, a young beautiful woman. If she wasn't going to do it now, she'd never get another chance. Twice before she'd been able to use her wiles to get what she wanted. The first, in her first year of university, Sarah had discovered that her Economics TA had a thing for girls with green eyes and short skirts. There was flirting, there was dating, and in the end, there was evidence. The course had been difficult, but the near-perfect grade Sarah had walked away with had been well earned.

The second had been her Uncle Steve. Her mother's brother was close to the family, but wasn't a blood relation. Adopted at birth, Uncle Steve had never known any other family, which would have made his indiscretion even worse if it would have gotten out. He never stood a chance.

"Uncle Steve!" she would throw her body at him, ensuring that her breasts would press up against his arm, "I'm so glad you're here! Let's go swimming!"

"Uncle Steve!" she would grab his hand and hold it close to her body as she would lean her head on his shoulder, "You're a lot cooler than my mom and dad. Can you chaperone the school trip?"

"Uncle Steve!" she said, straddling his naked body in the hotel, with half a bottle of whiskey consumed between the two of them, "You're so big! You’ll split me in two!"

The Tesla she had parked outside the apartment block had been a gift from her favourite uncle that year, something she made sure he knew was appreciated by keeping their little secret between the two of them.

Hank, though, had been particularly satisfying. He wasn't a short-term thing, a quick payout. He was an investment in her future. Hank Granger was a man with a reputation; faithful husband, devoted father. It didn't hurt that, for a middle-aged guy, he was good-looking. She was pretty sure he was at the gym every day and played sports on the weekend. He had a commanding presence. When Hank spoke in meetings, people sat up and listened.

But beneath that polished exterior, he was just a man. The cracks were there. They were always there. The quick looks, the flickers of desire. She’d felt his eyes on her, the way they lingered, betraying thoughts he likely hadn’t allowed himself to fully explore.

Yet.

She let the word roll through her mind like a promise. He wasn’t hers. Yet. But he would be. Sarah was patient when it suited her. She knew how to plant seeds, how to water them with whispers and glances until they grew into something undeniable. Today had been a victory. She'd gotten closer than ever before, more teasing, more blatant. If he didn't know what her intentions were now, then he was stupid. And Hank Granger wasn't stupid.

Why Hank? Why not? In a way she lucked out. Sarah would have enacted the same plan with whoever ended up hiring her. Work her way into their office, into their heart, into their pants. She could have gotten hired with a fat, ugly, sweaty old pervert. Hank wasn't any of those things. Strong jawline, broad shoulders, classically handsome. Even though he was serving a different purpose for her, Sarah would have fun while she let it play out.

And when she was done? When her appetite was sated? It would be a shame if HR heard all about how uncomfortable he had made her. His inappropriate behavior. The way he had looked at her, touched her, made her feel unsafe. Maybe she could take herself off the pill and give him a pregnancy scare.

Her smirk widened. A promotion would be nice. A corner office, maybe. A chance to leave this dingy apartment behind.

She pictured Hank again, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes had darkened when she had bent just a little too far forward. She’d felt the heat radiating from him, the hunger barely contained beneath his neatly pressed shirt. It had taken everything in her not to laugh.

Men.

They were so predictable.

It wouldn’t be long before Sarah would be able to close the deal. Maybe it would be in the office. Maybe she could convince him to go for drinks after work. The details didn’t matter. What mattered was that things were playing out exactly as she had anticipated.

She thought of Donna, the wife. A professional woman with a sharp mind and a reputation to match. Sarah wondered what Donna would think if she knew. Would she rage? Cry? Or would she fight, claws bared, for the man she’d built her life with?

The idea of it sent a thrill through Sarah. She loved the idea of being the storm that tore through someone else’s carefully constructed world.

She finished her unsatisfying meal, tossing the container into the trash with a flick of her wrist. The long night stretched ahead of her. Sarah hated the night. At night she was alone. At night she had nobody to play with. She didn’t have the resources to go out to clubs, to get drunk and meet people. At night Sarah stayed home.

Outside, a cat yowled in the alley, chasing shadows.

Soon enough Sarah would be back at work. She unlocked her phone and began to scroll; it would pass the time. Tomorrow would be another fun day playing with Hank. Tomorrow she might even finally push him over the line. She smiled. Sarah loved her job. Not because of the job duties, the benefits, or even the pay. No, Sarah loved her job because it was an investment in her future. So what if she enjoyed it too? Who could blame her?