Perfect

Perfect
--
It was his third time around the block. He was procrastinating. It was his way. The redhead on the corner was the spitting image of his dead fiancé.  
He slowed down.
He always did in the end.
--
Her dress was too long and her hair too curly but her eyes weren't dead like so many of the other girls. That was why so many of the cars had stopped for her.  
"Hi," she said as the sleek black sedan slid up to her and the automatic window rolled down. She smiled but didn't puff out her chest. There wasn't much of it anyway. She knew her allure had little to do with the physical.
"Hello sweetheart," the man said. As if he was some big catch. She looked into the car. He wasn't bad looking and the night was stiflingly hot. It was clear what he wanted; her. It was his third time around. He had time to pick. She reached for the door.
"Sweet car," she commented. The seats were leather and the interior dark wood. The car moved silently and the AC worked, leaving the car at a perfect 70 degrees. She had a car similar to this one herself back home. Only the AC didn't work.
"Thanks," he said then added. "Put on your seat belt." She did before turning her gaze back to him. He wasn't nervous like some guys were, instead just drove with ease not looking at her. This wasn't his first time. Even though he was sitting down she could tell he was tall. He had no wedding ring. His eyes were nice, but sad. She stretched her neck, raked her fingers through her hair. Sucked in her bottom lip.
He was perfect.
--
Her movement set him on edge made him want to watch her instead of the road. He didn't though. He knew the consequences it could have.  He thought about asking her name but she probably wouldn't tell him. Just give him one of those ridiculous names they used. Sugar, Cherry, or Amber.
"What do I call you?" she asked as if she had been thinking the same as him. She wore no perfume but he could smell her skin as she leaned closer. Not sweat, but the smell of skin. It seemed a little strange but he was sure that was what it was.
"My name is Kyle," he told her and turned off the main road. Down to the water, where they would have more privacy.
"I'm Aideen. It's Irish," she told him. Like he had expected; a fake name. At least she had put some thought into it. Red hair, green eyes. Irish.
He parked the car. She looked into the back seat. She climbed over the seat. He got out of the car and opened the back door.
--
"How much?" He pulled out his wallet before getting back into the car. He liked to get the money talk out of the way so he could fully enjoy himself. Actually he liked to ask the price before even letting the girls into his car. But this one was special. She had made him completely forget.
"Don't worry about it," she smiled. Her teeth were disturbingly white. He raised an eyebrow as warnings begun to flash through his mind. A hooker that didn't want his money?
"Seriously," he took a step back. "What's your rate?"
"How much do they usually charge?" she tilted her head and stepped out of the car. It reminded him of a kitten he once had. It had looked at him, like she was right then, all adorable and innocent.
The next day it had dragged in a mouse and toyed with it until it was dead.
Kyle had the strange feeling he was quickly becoming the mouse.
--
His sudden fear made her senses explode. As if the world had gone from plain old TV to high definition with surround sound. She could taste his soul in the air, as it warped with fear. Feel the heat of his skin even though he was five feet away.
"Your…eyes," he stuttered as he backed away. "What's wrong with your eyes?"
"Don't worry," she said. "It won't hurt. Much."

Fin