The croon of a lone sax filled the room, soon to be joined by a jazz band with no real talent, not that it mattered. All eyes fell to the ‘stage’ in the center of the bar - if you could call it that. The boys in the band had helped Jessica nail odd bits of wood together to resemble something in the classier joints up town. Still, it did its job.
It was then that she made her entrance, basking in that miserable red light, repeating the same act she had done since her early years. Gliding over to the stand alone mic' bedazzled with cheap fake jewels, the same ones that donned her slender throat and wrists.
As the music swelled, Jessica began to sing. The husky, cigarette dampened beauty of her voice hit her faithful audience like a wall of smoke. Dazzled, they listened in silence. Though tonight, the woman's attention was on the single man in the corner booth, the man who sat hunched over his moonshine, staring at his cigarette as if it would keep him warm at night.
That sweet, dangerous voice cut through to him.
He swore she was talking to him, swore it was just him she was staring at. He turned, feeling those big doe eyes on him, eyes that you could lose yourself in, eyes that would put you on your knees and swear to gods you never knew. His own baby blues were taken in, staring into those big, deep pits of hers.
The music faded to him, the slow tune lost as he stared back. Hot blood burned through cold veins left to chill for far too long. He swore his heart stopped then and there, silently cursing the drink, the now empty glass taking blame meant for her. That’s how she did it; that was her trick, he figured.
The spent cigarette was replaced with another staler one. With a flick, his face was illuminated as the match flared, slowly being cowled in darkness once again as he shook the flames to their death. The glass was refilled without his knowing, the last of his attention robbed away by the dame and those teasing legs that he knew she wanted seen.
He knew girls like her, poison. They were like a rose, luring you in with their looks and a sweet scent, next thing you know you've stabbed yourself with their thorns and the wound just festers until you’re left for dead. Swiftly, reality came back to him, and his glass was emptied with one grimacing pull.
The glass dangled from numb fingers as he drowned out poison with poison, but still he couldn’t keep his eyes away. “Never trust a snazzy dame...” he whispered, but he couldn’t help but ignore himself.
Never trust a snazzy dame. The same line his daddy used on him whenever he got bent out of shape over a pretty face. Unfortunately, the voice in the back of his head was drowned out by the sensual croon of Jessica's words.
"Jack of all trades, master of none, and isn't it a shame?"
"I'm so sure, that you'd be good for me.."
"If you'd only play my game."