I am the woman that mothers warn
their good boys about. I am the woman that bad boys drool and fumble over. I am
the woman that could make an angel fall and a demon crawl. Long dark ringlets
frame my sun kissed skin, my golden orbs swallow your soul, and my rose petal
lips are mine to use to savor the taste of your sweat and blood.
Tonight I walk out on the town. The
only bar awake at this hour, one that plays live music till the wee hours of
the morning, is the only place to have fun this night. And this night, fun will
be had. My six inch stilettos walk on the ghosts of those who have fallen in my
wake as I make my way there, the music thundering ahead of me as a procession
to my coming.
As I enter the dim lit building, red
and white lights flashing and swaying in ways that make it obnoxious to even
have your eyes open, Sunglasses at Night goes
through my head and I wonder if I should have brought my sunglasses with me.
But then I make eye contact with the bartender, tilt my head as if I am looking
down on him, and he licks his lips and smiles in a sheepish way and waves me
over.
“Can I buy you-I mean, get you-I
mean,” He fumbles. It’s perfect.
“Scotch.” I smirk and trace my
finger along his. He gulps and laughs in a way that makes me think of Dopey.
My drink get to me before anyone
else gets theirs, and I walk away. I don’t hear him holler for the cash, I do
hear someone demand they get their damned drink. Drinking the scotch at the
edge of the crowd, watching the band, I wonder if there is a point to toying
and taunting. And then I make eye contact with the bass player, and he misses a
note. I smile into my glass. There is a point.
Before the bar closes, before the
band leaves, I get my entertainment. The bass player fumbles his moves and is
in shock at how bad he is doing at his best act. I take control, make him mine,
I make him pur and keen and ask for my contact information afterwards. I give
him the e-mail of the dominatrix agency I work for, the number is for the phone
sex business I work under, and I give him the address to a porn shop I frequently
go to.
He was fun, but I want a real man.
No comments:
Post a Comment