Queen of My Pitiful Soul - James Patrick March | EN-US

III. whispers from the unknown

As Melinda approached the high-stakes table, a sudden hush fell over the room and all eyes turned to her. Clad in an elegant emerald dress that accentuated her beautiful silhouette, and her hair in a high, impeccable bun that left her delicate neck exposed, she seemed to be on another level. With a graceful signal, she ordered a martini and sat down at the table.

The men playing were instantly stunned by her presence. Accustomed to playing with rough and tough opponents, they were unprepared for someone as mysterious and charming as Melinda. An air of anticipation filled the room, as if everyone was curious to find out what she was capable of.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said in a low voice as she placed her chips on the table. "I hope you don't have any problem with a little friendly competition."

A young player, who seemed a little presumptuous, replied, "Not at all, dear. It's not every day that we have the privilege of playing with someone as charming as you."

"Ah, but of course," replied Melinda with an ironic smile.

But not everyone was willing to play with her. One of the men at the table, with greasy bangs and an air of suspicion, seemed clearly uncomfortable with Melinda's presence.

"What's a little girl like you doing here?" he asked with a cruel smile.

But Melinda was undaunted, only giving him a look of disgust that elicited low laughter from others at the table.

The game began, and Melinda soon showed her worth. With a cold calm and quick thinking, she played with supernatural skill and elegance, leaving the men guessing at every move. The wealthy businessman to her left tried to flirt with her, but Melinda remained focused, her eyes never leaving her cards. She played with a mysterious grace, almost as if she had a trick up her sleeve that the men around her couldn't even imagine.

As the night wore on, Melinda's pile of chips grew larger and larger, leaving the other players increasingly tense. However, she remained impassive, focused on the game and her objectives. Meanwhile, the atmosphere around the table seemed to change, as if the very room was watching in silence.

A waitress appeared, offering drinks to the players. Melinda accepted with a nod, never taking her eyes off the cards. The waitress felt strangely drawn to her, almost hypnotized by her mysterious presence. When she asked if there was anything else she could bring, Melinda gave her a small enigmatic smile. "I think I'll indulge in a martini, dear. Shaken, not stirred, with a twist of lemon, if you please."

The woman left, leaving the room in an eerie silence. Another player, a suave man in a tailored suit and a sly smile, tried to flirt with Melinda. "You know, a woman like you could easily distract a man, especially during a game like this."

Melinda's eyes remained inscrutable as she stared at the player. "I believe my abilities speak louder than my outward appearance, sir." she replied firmly, leaving him flustered.

Throughout the night, the other players found themselves enchanted by Melinda's charm, unable to resist the magnetism that she exuded at the poker table.

Hours went by, and the pile of chips in front of Melinda only grew. The other players seemed desperate in their attempts to recoup their losses, but their skills were no match for Melinda's.

Finally, the night came to an end, and Melinda stood up from the table with a restrained smile. The other players watched her leave with a mixture of envy and admiration.

As she walked down the hallway towards her hotel room, the memory of the sound of poker chips clinking echoed in her mind, like an echo of the thrill she had felt during the game. Melinda knew that her talent and mastery at the table were unmatched.