As she walked across the smoky night club, I watched her; from the top of her curly red head to the tips of her stiletto pumps. She had an air of sultry confidence. She oozed class.
Her hair was piled high and sexy with tendrils framing and revealing a neck begging for moist kisses. Around her neck hung a diamond suspended between her collarbones, matching stones winked at me from her ears, tormenting me.
Her off the shoulder dress was lacy, sheer, and black; it fit her perfectly, outlining her curvy hips and bosom. She had a woman's figure, one that wouldn't quit.
I could hear my heart beating in my ears, a rapid staccato beat. Those curves; so beautiful, so Rubenesque. I had to get my hands on them, feel them.
She made her way to a lone stool at the bar, deep in the corner, away from the crowd. Her sway, to and fro; womanly hips moving beneath her dress hypnotized me, drawing me to her shapely thighs, my gaze caressing her through her stockings.
Suddenly breathing became difficult when I saw her shoes. Delicate feet encased in five inch, black patent leather pumps. Be still my throbbing heart!
The raw music, the dimly lit smoky haze, the smell of excitement; it all blended together into an atmosphere bent toward secrets, intimacy, and sex.
I stalked her with my gaze while she ordered a mixed drink, then nibbled delicately on a bar pretzel. She wasn't hiding in her dark corner; no, her eyes were constantly moving, watching, evaluating.
There was no visible tension in her body; she relaxed languidly, fluidly, with an arm on the back of her stool, her supple body leaning gently against the wall. The subtle rippling of her body could only mean she was playing with her shoe; slipping her heel in and out of the pump, in and out, in and out.
The barman approached me with a brandy, one I hadn't ordered. "It's from the young lady, Sir." When I looked down the mahogany bar in the direction indicated, Red was watching me with her unflinching, sultry blue eyes.
I raised the glass in her direction. To an onlooker it seemed I was thanking her, but really I was paying homage to her lovely visage, her luscious form. She was magnificent.
My salutation was followed by a sip of the amber drink. Red winked in my direction and smiled. Brazen Vixen! It was a knowing smile, small and barely curving her full lips. Mona Lisa, eat your heart out!
She moved comfortably against the wall, her breasts full, and prominent; I watched as she sipped her drink slowly. She put the empty glass on the bar, caught my eyes and slowly licked her bottom lip with the tip of a pink tongue.
My shirt collar suddenly turned into a noose. My trousers were uncomfortably tight. I couldn't wait any longer; I had to speak to her, be near her, smell her perfume, lean close, and whisper in her small ear. I ached fiercely to put my lips to her throat, feel her creamy skin, savor her essence.
With drink in hand I made my way, slowly and deliberately, around the bar. She watched my progress, never once lowering her eyes. Coy she was not.
Returning her gaze I sat in the vacant stool at her side. She spoke in a voice dripping with honey, "I'm Francesca."