So I lied. I said I wouldn't upload any more stories until 'Debts' was over. But yes, this isn't a story really ... it's a one shot that came into mind when I was watching 'Smooth Criminal' (hence the name ^_^) by Michael Jackson. If you've not seen the video - I suggest you do as this story might not make sense if you haven't ... or it might, I'm not sure :)
Vote in the poll! (L)
"I'm starting with the man in the mirror, I'm asking him to change his ways!"
- Michael Jackson, 1958-2009
The bar was semi-crowded; as usual. With a thick layer of smoke covering the floor; it happened to be one of the few bars in London that still allowed smoking. With curved, wooden furniture that reeked of sophistication, reflected highly by the customers that hovered around the bar.
When he entered, every person within the bar seemed to move with him; their movements synchronised with a swish of his dark suit. His face was hidden by the inky hair that fell from his head, hiding his devilishly handsome features.
The bar seemed to tense as he walked through; even the already-quiet jazz band had quietened from his appearance, his footsteps falling like a planned dance routine, every step more precise than choreography. A glint of midnight blue flashed as his head tilted, making women gasp and men stand with bated breath.
But this was all invisible to him. Yes, his eyes were fixed on one person, and one person only.
A woman sat at the end of the bar opposite him, her feminine legs crossed seductively, while her elbows rested upon the counter, delicate fingertips of her right hand circling the rim of her Martini glass; slowly collecting a trail of condensation on her index finger. Golden tendrils of hair tumbled over her shoulders, softly falling onto her thighs where they met the thin black material of her trousers. The paleness of her skin seemed to match the colour of her silk shirt that was so nonchalantly tucked into the high waist trousers.
She could sense him, oh God! She could sense him when he walked through the door. The way he walked entranced her; powerful and with purpose, although she'd never let him know that. She knew what he wanted, and also knew that it would give him immense satisfaction if she gave it to him. But she had never fulfilled his desires; something that had always made him come back for more. She knew he wanted it badly that night, could almost smell his desire for her, but no; she was a criminal … she only took.
He took his seat, the smell of her taking over him. Sweet and yet he knew what she's really like; not sweet at all.
Keeping his satisfied shudder to himself, the mysterious man signalled to the still-stunned, greasy barman for his drink, before resting his hand back down onto the table.
The volume picked up around the bar as the customers saw the bartender leave to get the drink, a gentle hum of gossip and drunken slurs; people went back to their business.
The tension gathered between the couple quickly, the man forcing himself not to grab her and pull her out of the bar, while she knew fully of his intentions.
"Serena," he whispered hoarsely, not looking away from the counter.
Serena raised an eyebrow, but didn't look away from her drink.
"Now," he murmured, breath hot and throat dry as he glanced at her.
Serena smiled. She was killing him! Her, with her lying lips and twirling hips, driving him to insanity and back.
"Your drink sir," the bartender said quietly, placing a glass in front of the tall man before slithering back into the shadows, unaware that he had just broken the tension between the couple.
"Have I cracked the most notorious criminal?" she asked when she knew the bartender could not hear; attempting to keep her voice calm, but the excitement was far too clear. "Have I just broken through to the man who is so smooth," she asked, breathing steady as she looked over at him, "women all over the world quake within their very souls at hearing his name?"
Serena bit her lip in a coy manner before leaning over to him, able to hear the shocked gasp collecting around the women of the bar who were still straining to listen to their conversation. She placed a hand carefully upon his thigh, gripping onto the muscle that had tensed there, while her other hand rested patiently upon his chest. Her lips teased his earlobe, feeling his breathing falter from her forward actions, she grinned and took in a fake sharp breath.
His breathing had deepened, eyes heavy and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up from fear of what this woman had done to him. Had a mere woman really broken him down?
Serena's heard his breathing hitch as her slender fingertips played with the button to his jacket, her hand delving beneath it and through the gap in between his two bottom buttons.
Raking her nails across his abdomen, Serena smiled secretly. He wouldn't be able to resist.
"So, what is it going to be-" she whispered, breath falling lightly onto his neck, her eyelids closing to brush against his jawline, "Darien Shields?"
That was all it took. His eyes widened while she remained there, her chilled fingertips still pressing onto his abdomen. Grabbing his composure (which he had never done before; no one had ever broken it) and her wrist, he stood up. He threw some meaningless money onto the counter and turned to leave the bar with his hand still clasping Serena's wrist.
As they walked, aware of the bar staring back at them, Darien bent down to the petite girls ear.
"You're going to give me what I've been waiting for," he murmured, somewhat darkly.
Serena smiled to herself. "Yes, two whole years you've been waiting,"
Darien chuckled light-heartedly, content that he was getting what he wanted. "Only for you," he stated, walking tall again.
Serena raised an eyebrow, pushing at the door. "My place or yours?"
-
Not sure if that was what you were expecting, but it just ... came from my fingertips really. Continuation if you want?
REVIEW PLEASE - let me know about your thoughts on Michael Jackson :').
Dedicated to Michael Jackson.
Niamh-Chan x
