Lily lived by one saying When you see something that is worth looking at, don’t take your eyes off it for a second! She held herself with an arched back and swaying legs upon the tall bar stool, stirring her drink with a cherry, watching the whirlwind swim around the glass walls. Mellow and sharp, all at once. She looked at her reflection in the glass and let out a sigh of exhaustion, the first moment she had lost composure since her arrival at “The Ivory Piano.”
The notes on the jukebox broke her heart with every wave, her eyes welled up and she felt her wall crumple just a tiny bit, slowly wearing down, slowly slipping down. With a hunched back and a warm drink, she was approached;
“Well, hello foxy!” teased Mr Devon, a gorgeously, tall man, with dark eyes and a bright white smile,
“Mr Devon, you old charmer you.” Miss Constance lazily muttered while pulling herself up from the bottom of the bar stool, regaining her impeccable rhythm.
“You’re looking,” hesitation gripped him,
“Positively ravishing, my darling.” the old clich hit Miss Constance immediately. He leaned across her, with one hand poised to signal the barman to bring a round of champagne.
“I do try” she slurred.
“Champagne, my darling?” the Clich had invaded and Miss Constance brought herself forward to play the role of the “darling” mistress of every man.
After several moments and a glass or two of champagne, Mr Devon fancied his luck to pry further into his acquaintance. With a glint in his eye and his hand wandering, Lily searched for her escape route.
As a child, Lily had been put in situations, tense ones. Usually with narrow exits and a lingering trail She had to learn to find her route, run as fast as she could and cover her tracks. Although, even Lily needed a rest, even Lily needed company, and even Lily needed the rush of danger; the thrash of consequence, and the sting of betrayal from time to time; she was only human, given, a rather extraordinary one.
“Ok, so what business are you on tonight, Mr Devon?” Lily enquired.
“Just, absorbing the melodies, whoever chose that song was a doll! I suppose you prefer more of a, “rock ‘n’ roll” scene.” he grinned.
“Whatever gave that away?” Lily asked.
“The tight dress, the leather heels, the ..” he hesitated once more, as if to say something offensive,
“The mangled hair, no doubt from over-excursion,” he let out a wink.
“Mangled hair? I think you’re right Mr Devon, I am over-exhorted, so I bid you a fair, good night.”
“What? But,” Miss Constance threw her cocktail across his face, staining his glossy pinstripes.
“Keep the change!” and with that, Miss Constance found her exit.
To be continued.