He heard her before he saw her. Belting out 'holding on for a hero' her voice soared up to the seedy rafters. He vowed to ask this sultry angel to accompany him on the piano. Keep the dreaded Hyacinth away. Anyone would be better. And here she was. He looked up from his drink and saw someone that his mother would have described as all fur coat and no knickers. She was most unlike his ex-wife. Vulgar. Tarty. Fantastic legs. He grinned. Just the change of scenery he needed. She would liven up the crowd at the church hall and the old folk's home a treat. He could almost see her stockings under that tiny skirt. And this woman would irritate Hyacinth to no end. He had to ask this woman to be his singer. He gazed at her reverently while she sang her way through another few songs, encore demanded by the audience. When she finally stepped down from a personable rendition of 'maybe this time', the cheers were as magnificent as the smile on her face. She was radiant.
Happily, her seat was on a table behind to his left shoulder. He twisted around and offered to get her a drink. She gladly accepted. Two gin and tonics later, she had joined him and she was resting her elbow on the table, head in enquiring hand and nodding along at Emmet's proposal. She thought it sounded wonderful.
'Are you here for karaoke often?' He questioned her. Emmet was a bit of a snob. It wasn't his scene. But he thought that if the cards in the newsagent wouldn't work (it hadn't) and he needed to get Hyacinth off his back (she wouldn't) then trawling for talent at the local bingo and karaoke wasn't the worst idea.
'Not usually, I was just accompanying a gentleman friend, Mr Butterfield.'
She looked around but didn't see the balding chap she'd arrived with. Never mind him. She moved closer.
'I love the piano. What kind of programme were you thinking of? I was thinking of a medley of musicals and some classics.'
'You should come here more often, people loved you tonight. With your voice, you could manage quite a few things on my list. Some of the songs are pitched a bit higher than your glowing contralto. I would have to tweak it a bit, lower it in tone.'
'I've been told I tend to lower the tone of things' she said cheekily and Emmet grinned into his drink. He glanced around for the other man just in case he might get beaten up but luck was on his side.
'Never mind him. He doesn't own me. Keep talking.' She reached out and played with his shirt collar. Emmet felt a pleasurable tingle glimmering on his skin.