Just for the night
Her skin hugging dress was made of dark velvet, velvet almost as dark as the night. But sudden shimmers from the dusty chandelier revealed streaks of maroon against the deep black, every now and then. She stood there, resembling a voluptuous bottle of red wine waiting to be opened and drunk. Her hair fell in loose dark curls framing her bare shoulders, twisting down her flawless porcelain skin free of scars that can be seen. She stood there behind the counter, applying a rosy red lipstick to hide the grayness cigarettes had painted on her lips over the years she had spent pursuing men. Her dark narrow eyes wandered around the bar searching for her next pursuit. Eyes which did not rest until she found him sitting right across from her. Places like these longed for men like him to add a bit of glamour along these dark shady walls. He sat there, with his freshly grown scrawny beard covering his square cut jaw, begging to hide the traces of ancestral royalty in his looks. Him with his perfectly even, white teeth that gleamed every time he sipped his drink. His eyes locked with hers and it seemed as if he beckoned her. She wasn’t about to turn away. After all men like him don’t usually come to places like these.
She was standing behind the counter, giving him this root beer float kind of smile. He gave her a lopsided drunk grin for that was all he could afford to give her at the moment. He didn’t pay much attention to her; she already walked over so it was a done deal. Besides, he knew he could have anyone he wanted in such places. After all men like him don’t come to places like these. Him with his bloodshot eyes hiding beneath the very expensive pair of Bentleys, checking his Rolex every now and then, to make sure time was still in his hands. Hands that twirled the olives of his martini, hands that bore a finger with a lighter shade of skin, marking the place where a ring used to be. Yes, at first glance men like him can’t be seen in places like these. These men in tailored suits and ties, who looked as if they just stepped out from the cover of Forbes, can’t be found sipping a drink in a dimly lit bar in the broken down part of the city. But look once more, and you will find that these men can be seen in such places, in cities and countries from all corners of the world.
She knew he was miserable. She knew he longed to talk of the troubles in life, of how his heart was broken by the only woman he ever truly loved. She knew he longed to just let go and be himself; open his heart and just talk to someone. Anyone. Someone who would listen. But she knew she had to hold herself back. Love was for the weak. Hope was for the fragile, delicate women who dreamt of their prince in shinning armors coming to rescue them from the gritty, dirty life they had long lived. She wasn’t foolish to dream such unrealistic dreams.
The sound of Henry crying was still ringing in her ears. But she needed a man like him to notice her, so that Henry isn’t forced to sleep on an empty stomach again. That’s why she held back her beliefs and resumed to pursue him even though he slowly became oblivious of her presence, in hope that he might pick her, just for the night.
