Killer
The scent of alcohol had been stale on his breath, but she'd kissed him anyways.
Ezra grasped her 'round the waist and hoisted her onto the bar, leaning into her chest with hot and heavy breaths, "My Aria," he whispers, "Don't you look lovely tonight?"
She shakes her head with a laugh, he's just so intoxicated, but that's how she's likes him. That's when they're wild, when morals don't matter, and age is nothing but a number. She reaches down and grabs his chin, pulling up so that his eyes meet hers.
The surrounding bar is empty, save for the bartender in the corner but he busies himself with cleaning a mug, his attention on the glass. "Thank you," she murmurs, revealing under he pressure of his lips against hers. Soft and tender, it felt like she was kissing a rose petal. His hands began working their way up her body, finding their way beneath her shirt, Oh! She groans, breaking his grasp, "Not here. Bathroom." She couldn't remember how they gotten there or even what day it was but at that moment it didn't really matter. Ezra was in her arms, and there was nothing anyone could do to break them apart, not her father, or even the illusive A. It was just her and him.
Another murmur of pleasure squeaked through her as he pressed his lips to her collar, "Do I really have to carry you in there?" Ezra asked, faux annoyance hanging on the sentence. Aria didn't even give herself a moment to think before she shook her head. Who really gave a fuck? She glanced to the bartender, but he had gone. Good. The bar was much more comfortable than the sink anyway.
Ezra whispered into her neck, but the slur of his words was making it hard for her to understand. "What?" she asked, reaching to pull him away from her neck. His expression seemed so vacant, as though someone had poured the vodka straight into his glass and asked him to do several shots. But that wasn't right, they'd only had one drink each, right? "Ezra, what were you saying?"
Ezra leeringly raised a finger, "Miss Aria, you're," he cupped her chin in his hand, "a killer, not Ezra's wife." The words echoed in the silence of the bar as Aria fought to keep herself from screaming. What was Ezra saying? How could he possibly know…? But he seemed so oblivious, even as they sat he continued to touch. Reaching up and around, unsnapping her bra, nibbling her lower lip, "Aria." She pushed him back, frightened by this stranger that she knew couldn't be her Ezra. "I need to leave," she gasped, reaching to grab her clutch, and pulling a twenty for her drink. "But Aria." The expression on his face stopped her, he looked so hurt, so heartbroken. She wished she could clear the vacancy in his eyes, and go back to what they'd been doing not only five minutes before. But his sudden outburst. Was it a clue? How could he have known?
Aria ducked around him, racing for the door. She pulled at the knob, once, twice, finding it was locked. "Aria." She turned, pressing her back against the smooth, wooden surface. He was watching her and slowly edging closer. "Aria."
"Please Ezra, I need to go home."
"Aria."
He was even nearer now; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. "Aria?"
Aria squeezed her eyes shut, her arm fiddling with the doorknob behind her.
"Maya knew, Aria."