THE BOY AND THE TEMPTRESS
A juvenile boy dressed like a man throws himself into an unknown world, armed only with the green liquor that courses through his virgin veins. The drink numbs his senses, but he is still alarmingly aware as he watches the violent thrusts of strangely clad women's bodies and feels the music pulsate through his very insides.
A temptress with driving sexuality that surrounds her aura as she exhales through deep red lips and bluntly shakes her hips searches the raucous nightclub. The raised eyebrows that accompany frightened eyes and stiff shoulders of the boy that sits hidden at a table stand out amongst the crowd; she points a determined finger at the boy. His stomach knots up as the long, gloved finger turns over and beckons him hither. Before he can get his chance to resist, his friends slap his back in congratulations and shove him into the dance floor.
He'd danced many times before. It was a proper, slow dance to violins and a piano; and with pretty girls that had pearly smiles and elegant, sweeping dresses. He stands tall and reaches for her left hand on instinct, but is surprised when the temptress locks her long arms around his neck and begins to wildly spin in a random direction.
He sucks in a breath and sees in a blur the temptress dip her body backwards and whip her gorgeous red hair around. She squeals and flings herself back standing to meet with his face. He stares into her wide blue eyes for a moment and sees the wild fire that is within her.
* * * * *
A cold December night, the once lively nightclub now empty. The doors are left wide open as there is nothing left to vandalize in the abandoned establishment, and death sweeps the halls in the form of fog that has crept in from the streets of Montmartre.
A man with ratted clothing and shoes that bare holes stumbles in. He is a man with regrets. His moans echo in the vacant hall, so darkly forlorn. He pauses a moment to press the bottle he holds in his numbed hand up to his rough lips. He suckles the last drops of absinthe like a baby and pitches the bottle at a wall. Some frightened birds that had been hiding flap away.
He staggers into an empty theatre, remembering when a dance hall had been there. He whimpers incoherent cries as he feels so much pain and yet so sleepy.
He collapses on the floor, now unseen in the fog that still creeps on the floor.
Then two silver ghosts of a boy and a temptress come out from hiding and begin to dance as their nightclub illuminates from the darkness.
END
A/N: Your time spent reading this is much appreciated! Don't forget to review! :o)