The air was hot and muggy as desperate bodies danced against each other beneath the fluorescent lights. Amongst the sweat and pop music they all thought they were special. Her brow furrowed at the naivety around her and it took all she had to not roll her eyes. Her gaze hung on many delectable men but she wasn’t hungry. She came for one reason and that reason sat hunched over a scotch in the corner booth. She swam over to him and sat in the chair adjacent to him with a soft thud.
Without looking up from his scotch he let out a sigh as if he was preparing to turn her down but she interrupted his brood.
“Ten” she said “no, no wait eleven” she jokingly corrected.
“…Excuse me?” he said through gritted teeth.
She leaned in as if what she had to say was extremely important.
“I have killed, eleven men” she sighed romantically.
For half a second he looked stunned but quickly adjusted.
“I don’t get the joke” he said with forced casualty.
“Oh I know you don’t, I mean why would you? But you know what’s funny? I think we have the same taste in men” she smiled her eyes gleaming.
She continued with a sigh “But that’s where we find ourselves in a little predicament. You see I don’t have to like you and this…” she paused to choose her words “unique bar is not going to get any more customers if we share it”
He was angry now, and his hand tightened around his scotch. “I don’t have the energy for your games, pleasure meeting you” he grumbled insincerely as he pushed up from his chair and left the bar. She smugly smiled, knocked back his scotch and followed in pursuit.
She saw his head disappear in the smoke of the alleyway next to the bar and, giddy, she followed.
“Mr. Scotch man” she sang to the echoing alley. “Where are you?...” she tip toed further. “Where are Y-“she was cut off as a large serpent like hand coiled itself around her neck and slammed her against a wall.
“Who are you!?” he yelled.
She attempted a laugh but he cut off her breathing.
“What do you want from me?!” he continued furiously. He ever so slightly loosened his grip so that she could respond.
After she choked for air she whispered “it appears I’m your best friend.”
His face contorted with anger and he had a killing look in his eye. His hesitation said that he had never killed a woman before. She knew he was stronger than her and that he was very capable of ending her life but the cold metal between her thumb and forefinger disagree. With one swift movement she horizontally cut his wrist causing him to stumble backwards in pain.
“You’ll be fine” she giggled, like a skilled craftsmen she knew all the different kinds of cuts, and this one was shallow.
She jogged a couple feet away from him, turned and said “I look forward to our future engagements” then danced away.
“Succubus!” he shouted after her.