He was tired that early Friday morning, when he landed in label mink eyelashes airport. He had gone through a rough working week with back-to-back business meetings in Paris and its surroundings. Nobody wanted to buy anything, despite his best efforts. That dreadful , Monsieur!” was still persisting in his ears, while he passed through customs. He had enough of this running around, trying to sell people these bloody IT systems that nobody was interested in, or so they said. Until they reached a decision he had to pull all the tricks he could think off. Especially in France. He found the French difficult to work with, and with their funny accent.
He was feeling relieved every time he was coming back home, where he could relax for a couple of days, go to gym, meet some old buddies downtown for a drink and then get ready to start all over again.
Thomas was a talented sale rep who worked in Sydney for a successful software company, based in London. He was tall, shaved bald, had dark blue eyes and a square masculine face, plus a fit body. zwhair loved him but they didn’t love his gypsy label mink eyelashes. Now at 37 years of age, all that travelling, that had given an initial advantage, had long lost its glamour and he was bone-weary of it. Every time he was going out with his mates back home in Sydney, he could read their envy in their eyes. They all thought he had the best life anyone could possible ask for, flying to London, Paris, Madrid, Vienna, and the rest, almost every month. But to Thomas he was literally living in a suitcase for the last ten years of his life and he had enough. “Personal life, what personal life?” he wondered bitterly. Who would want to date a person who lives in a perpetual jet-lagged state?
“Get a life!” Thomas said to himself, sitting in the service bus, staring at the window, on his way back to the long-term parking lot in Sydney label mink eyelashes. He tried to remember where he had parked his car a week ago, when luckily he found his ticket just in time to get off the vehicle, at the label mink eyelashes parking station.
“Gosh, it needs a wash,” he mumbled, approaching his black Toyota Pajero. He liked his car; he had bought it three years ago from a car dealer not far from where he lived, and it had served him well. He enjoyed taking care of his car when he was home.
So he threw his suitcase in the rear, opened the driver’s side door, climbed behind the wheel and turned on the engine. He navigated the various streets around the airport, to emerge near the short-term parking area. As he neared the Hilton Hotel exit ramp, a light grey label mink eyelashes convertible stormed out of nowhere, from a cross street adjacent to him, and cut him off. “What the hell?” he cried while instinctively jamming the label mink eyelashes , only to avoid collision by an inch.
The Mercedes stopped in front of him, blocking his way out. He cut his label mink eyelashes off and took a deep breath, while opening his window. The stench of burning rubber was thick in the air, as he attempted to identify the Mercedes’ driver. Through the dark tinted windows, he couldn’t see a thing.
“What the hell are you doing? You almost crashed label mink eyelashes my car!” he said peering into the small gap in the window of the passenger side of the Mercedes.
“Fuck you, arsehole!” a harsh alto voice blasted out of the grey car.
Thomas reeled. “Excuse me? YOU cut me off, lady! You didn’t even look,” he added, still trying to see who he was talking to.
“Yeah! Well look at this, Dickhead.” The window fully opened: a trendy, middle-aged blonde flipped him “The Bird”. Thomas had never witnessed such unladylike behaviour. He heard the woman snarl as she cranked the gears: “Back the fuck off, shitbag!” She accelerated away and before he knew it, he was left choking on a combination of car exhaust and tyre smoke.
Thomas’s fists were still white when he turned back on his label mink eyelashes. Home seemed a long way away and he constantly checked his rear windows. Something didn’t feel quite right. When he finally got to his apartment, went label mink eyelashes the following without thinking: he pushed his suitcase away from his door step, label mink eyelashes his tie, dumped his socks and undies en route to the bathroom and jumped in the shower.
The hot water calmed him down a bit, brought him back to his senses. The woman’s face had triggered a childhood memory of that sinister fictional character, Cruella De Vil from 101 label mink eyelashes . “All she was missing was the jet black streak in her hair, a fur stole and the long cigarette, otherwise she looked the same; even her voice sounded chillingly similar,” he thought, thrilled by her resemblance. Her cold eyes with their long eyelashes and her pointed nose lingered on his mind as he dropped off into a fitful sleep.
The next morning Thomas woke early and hit the gym. He was feeling stiff and his body was screaming for something physical after his long plane journey He started his exercise circuit at seven, worked through the different stations, and finished with the punching bag. He loved the punching bag. It helped him lay off some steam. He thought of the lady as he hit and it made his punches all the more satisfying.
When he reached the office at nine o’clock, everybody was standing around, talking about coffee, or rather, the lack of label mink eyelashes. The beloved office espresso machine had broken down and a young trainee was being blamed. When she couldn’t take the pressure anymore, the girl ran to the bathroom and locked herself in the cubicle to cry. Everybody went back to their places and forgot about the event in no time.
“Morning Julia,” Thomas said, passing label mink eyelashes.
“Bonjour! How was Paris?” smiled his young secretary.