Bill Peters hurriedly crossed the street. He glanced over his shoulder as he mounted the kerb.

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. It pooled in one of the deeper acne scars which marred his skin, and then ran the length of his cheek to his jaw line. Moisture dripped onto his starched white collar.

Catching sight of his reflection in the window of, Andy's Antique Emporium, Bill stopped walking and studied his image in the pretence of admiring the display of Royal Dolton dishware.

The china was set out in such a haphazard way that if you hadn't read the sign, which ran along the top of the glass, you'd think you were looking into the window of a charity store, and the antique porcelain was someone's unwanted mismatched bits and pieces.

His tie was a little off centre. Bill straightened it, and then wiped his beaded brow with his perfectly ironed handkerchief as he admired his face. He looked into his deep-set dark brown eyes saying, "You're a looker all right." Touching his sharp nose affectionately he added, "Too long for some but perfect for you."

He knew his nose set him apart from others. Scrutinizing his profile he thought, Regal. How many other men could say they had a regal nose?

It certainly never hindered his ability to find a woman when he needed one. Even his acne scars didn't turn them away. If anything, they enhanced his charisma. They gave him that rugged appeal which women liked so much.

Bill smoothed his hair down and checked his tie again. Yes... he was almost perfect. Not too tall or too short and the width of his shoulders allowed him to stylishly carry off the Italian suits he liked.

"Hey, you got a dollar, mister?"

Grimacing, Bill pulled himself away from his image. He hated coming into neighbourhoods like this one. They made his skin crawl. He knew he'd have to get straight into the shower when he got home.

He reached into his pocket and found a two-dollar coin. "Here, and don't ask me for any cigarettes because I don't smoke." Bill dropped the coin into the vagrant's held out hand, and then turned back to his reflection. Neighbourhoods like this held only one interest for him.

Women who liked to play rough.

However, that wasn't the reason he was here today.

Brushing down his suit with the back of his fingertips he thought about the nice three piece, two button, brown pinstripe, made of extra fine Italian wool that he had been admiring at Italsuit in the city. It might be in reach after today. The brown would go very well with his eyes.

He took a deep breath and sighed. Yes, he was almost perfect. Bill contemplated the, almost. His only failing, as far as he could see, was that he wasn't as courageous as he'd like to be.

Finishing off a woman perfectly, as he imagined doing so, when he played rough, hadn't yet eventuated. Bill wasn't sure why this was. It was there. The want to find that perfect ending was definitely there but he felt he lacked the valour to decide what the perfect ending would be so, thought of this as cowardly.

His one imperfection.

Sometimes he convinced himself this imperfection was because he was perfect. By just imagining what he'd like to do to finish his, rough play, meant not having to explain or live up to expectations. Bill didn't like to put pressure on his abilities and thought every man had to have a desire to move him forward in life, and who knew what was around the corner.

Bill thought there was a huge possibility he would carry the desire through to completion one day. When he did, he wanted it to be with a woman as perfect as himself. Not one of the drug addicted scraggly bitches who let him inflict pain on their bodies so they could get their next fix.

Sally Parks' tightly clad backside flashed through Bill's mind as he recalled the muffled screams of the last slut, he'd used to satisfy his lust for power through sex. He rubbed his groin. This wasn't the time to be thinking about such delights.

He looked at his watch and headed along the footpath in the direction of Hadley's Bar. Next time he'd tell Patrick to send the envelope by registered post so he wouldn't have to risk being mugged or worse, stepping into something he'd prefer not to think about.

*

"You're late."

"Got held up. Some dead-beat wanting money. It took me forever to get rid of him." Bill wiped down the vinyl padded stool with a paper serviette, and then looked up at his companion. "Why the hell do we have to meet in a place like this anyway?"

"What? Not to your liking, Peters." Sergeant Patrick Murphy sneered. "I thought you hung out here."

"I don't hang out here. I come, get what I'm looking for, and then I go. I don't hang."

"Well... sorry..." Patrick held up his finger to the barmaid. "Let me buy you a drink to make up for the mistake."

"I don't have time to drink. Just give me the money."

"You sure it'll all come out clean."

Bill huffed and looked down his splendid nose at the man leaning casually on the counter. "Have I ever let you down?"

"No." Patrick grinned. "But there's always a first time," he said as he handed Bill a long white envelope.

"How many this time?" Bill opened the packet and flicked through the notes inside.

"Two. Five hundred a piece. You'll find it all there."

"What day will they be coming in?"

"Tomorrow. Early."

Bill nodded and shoved the envelope inside his jacket. "How about you post the money next time. Registered mail."

"No can do. I don't want to leave a trail of any sort. When they hit us with it suddenly there's no time to be fucking around with the post anyway. Better to give you the call and meet. Then you're as ready as we are."

"Whatever. How about we go up market in the future?"

Patrick laughed. "Yeah... alright. I have some time to kill today. I'm afraid you don't find the useable trash up market that you find here. I was trying to run two errands at once if you get my drift."

Bill stood and patted Patrick on the back. "You and I might have more in common than we realise."

*

As he made his way back to the lab Bill thought about Sally Parks. Yes, she was perfect, with just one flaw. Flirtation. He considered this and recalled her teasing Rohan Wayland. The imbecile had no idea how to handle it.

Bill chuckled. Of course, this was the reason Sally played her silly little game. It was the power of rendering the man valueless. Of being able to inflict pain on another human being and take gratification from knowing you and only you had the supremacy to do this.

He felt himself grow hard. Yes... Sally Parks was perfect.

Alamy Photo