I sit on the stool behind the curtain, listening to the buzz of the people on the other side. My career was starting to slow down, and I needed money on the side to support myself. This was a trashy bar, but they're paying good money for the simple show I put together. The curtain opens and the lights hit me, and the is crowd hushed. They are quiet for a moment to hear the opening lyrics before returning to their beer and sports. The women who sat around their men were dressed in miniskirts and crop tops, with their hair done up and makeup smeared on their face; it reminded me of when I was younger, trying to play it cool just to get some attention.
My focus turned to the microphone in my hand and I hear the band play the chorus. We decided to start with Born to Die, a couple songs from Ultraviolence, then finish up with some from Honeymoon.
After I made it through a majority of the list, I could see the faces around me change. Men in suits, just getting off work, who came in for a drink before they returned home to their lovely wives. I saw the old men in the corner, playing cards. After the younger men had filtered out, leaving with their ladies, not many people were arriving. Except one.
I recognized his face, but I couldn't put a name to it. He sauntered over to the bar and ordered a drink. I stared as I sang the last song of the night. His leather jacket fit him perfectly, the rugged jeans completing the look. He was hot, but the way he moved made him even more attractive. He was graceful, unlike all the drunks stumbling around the bar.
"Let me put on a show for you daddy..."
As I sang those words he looked up at me, into my eyes, and smirked. My knees got weak and I turned my gaze to the bottles of alcohol behind the bar. I would kill for a drink right now... I thought to myself. I could feel his eyes on me, but forced myself to finish the song and leave the stage only with a small bow, not waiting for the applause. I hurried off the stage in my red pumps and I was suddenly aware of how short the dress I had on was. My head was cloudy and I felt my insides start to twist as I thought of the way he looked me over.
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It was approaching midnight but I didn't want to leave. Once I had all my things together, I went out for the drink I had been craving all night. I climbed onto the stool and ordered a margarita, then did a quick search for the graceful guy who had caught my attention earlier. When I couldn't find him, I turned back to the bar and took a sip of my drink. I licked the salt off the rim as my thoughts wandered. I wish I had come out sooner. He was so familiar, but I can't remember his name.
I heard a gruff voice coming from behind me."Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to compliment you on your performance. You have a lovely voice." I set my drink down on the counter and turn around. Standing in front of me, tall and handsome, empty cup in hand, clearing his throat when I don't respond, is Mr. What's-his-name. "Oh! Thank you. It was a fun show, but I miss the big crowds." I mutter and let out a weak laugh. He looks down, runs his hand through his hair. Short, brown, but silky and curly at the ends. His eyes are an ocean, bright and alert, with contrasting deep greens. "Well, I thought you did great... Uh..." he said as he reached for the stool beside me at the bar. I realize he is asking for my name. "Oh. Lana," I say blandly. He smiles and continues, "especially for a dump like this. Beautiful name, by the way. Original." This time I am the one to run my fingers through my hair. "I suppose. But hey, I need the money." He looks at me with his eyebrows up but a confused look on his face, and then shaking it off and ordering another beer. I smooth my dress, pretending to be busy. I don't want to seem entirely desperate. Classy. Picking up his drink, I check my phone for the time. Sighing and standing up, I feel ten times heavier and twenty times sleepier. "I think it's time for me to get going. It's been a long night," I say as I throw my bag's strap over my shoulder. I finish up my drink while he stands up and stretches out. "Well let me drive you home, you sound exhausted." He says in his deep voice. I couldn't help but to think what he would sound like when he wakes up... "Oh. I don't know. I'm pretty close anyways," I try to reject because I don't want to get in the car with a stranger, no matter how deliciously hot he is. "No, it's not a problem. It's dangerous to walk alone anyways." He states, looking at all the things I had brought with me. I give in and follow him to his car, and he helps me put my guitar in the back. As I climb in the front seat, I smell the leather seats and notice the clean floors. Must be brand new, I think.
We make small talk on the way to my little apartment, arriving in just over ten minutes. He stops out front, insisting to help me carry my things. "No, I can get it, I swear!" But he is already hauling the bags out of the backseat. I see his muscles flex at the weight and finally peel my eyes away as I unlock the door and walk inside, smiling to myself. Climbing up each step, I was thinking about what he was expecting when we got to my apartment. Don't let him in, don't let him in... But he is so hot... I reach the top step and find my room number. The light of my lamp shines through the tiny crack under my door onto the dull wood. The faded wallpaper of the apartment complex is frayed around the door frame. He slows down we stop in front of my door, "this is it?" He questions. I nod as I pull the other key out of my purse. Reaching for the dull brass handle and pushing it open, he lingers outside. I turn around, not sure at this point what to do. I sigh and motion him inside, seeing as both of us have full hands. I throw my purse on the tiny side table, and quickly pick up some stray pieces of clothing. I stand up quickly, realizing he probably got a full view of my backside. "You're so helpful, thank you so much!" I try to distract him, putting all my things away. "It's all my pleasure. You keep this quite tidy, for how busy you are." He mumbles as he looks around, examining my items. The cramped room is filled with my things, but it is organized. My bed, in the corner, is made, and my desk is neat. The main room is open and bright, the couch covered in a variety of fluffy pillows and colorful blankets. "Well... Thanks," I say, looking at him through my lashes. He locks stares with me and smirks, putting his hands in his pocket. Walking towards me, he says, "yeah, anytime. Really. Anything for a beautiful woman such as yourself." I turn and blush, unsure of what to do next. He walks over to me slowly. I hear his feet on the rug, his breath calm and steady, feel his presence behind me.
I turn around, my gaze meeting his.
He is still smirking, then his eyes leave mine as he trails them down my body.
It should have been weird or creepy, but he was comfortable and I had this feeling, telling me to trust him, he isn't going to hurt me.
My cheeks grow even more red when he gets a dark look in his eyes, full of lust and passion. I'm intimidated and anxious. I want him.
My legs tremble slightly and my lungs feel shallow.
Horns blare on the street below, the late night traffic keeping the city alive, but the room is silent except for our gentle breath and wild hearts.
He takes a step closer, hardly touching me.
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