All my thanks to RuzieD from the volunteer editor programme without your help I would have made so many terrible mistakes. This is my first submission, and I welcome constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy it
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It was another rainy night in London town, and I was to be found in my usual corner of the bar. It looked much like so many other London bars; once you got past the glitz and glam of the tourist areas and the mega rich only wine bars. It was a little run down with yellowed walls, but was only dimly lit and they played good music; a blend of main stream along with heavy metal and even some old punk. I sat and watched others while they did the things they found fun. This seemed to mainly involve the fastest methods to get drunk, and go on the prowl for anyone who could give them a few hours of pleasure. I sat alone in the corner; the perfect viewpoint. I found the interactions between people fascinating, but never wanted to engage with them myself. Unfamiliar faces were a constant source of anxiety for me. I got too shy to ever respond, if anyone attempted to talk. Thankfully I found that being very goth helped to keep most people away. My long black skirts brushed the ground around my chair. My black velvet corset gave me the perfect hourglass figure I did not really possess, while pushing my ample bosom up to show maybe a little too much cleavage covered only by the scanty layer of the black lace blouse I wore. My raven black hair fell in a tumble of curls to my waist, and glistened with blue when it caught the light. My skin pale already from a life time habit of hiding from the sun was whitened further until I had the colour of the undead. In contrast my green eyes looked out on the world from their frame of smoky black shadow, elaborate eyeliner and false eyelashes. The only other colour was the deep blood red tint on my lips. My long nails were manicured with black varnish then left to chip to get that just crawled out of a grave look. No outfit would be complete without my studded leather collar. I tried to make up for being only 5'2 by wearing the highest heels I could possibly walk in, and these were no different: 6 inch heels with an inch of platform in a style I thought of as Victorian governess boots, but only if a Victorian governess had turned slutty.
As I sat there I noticed an older woman. She was rather attractive, and stocky with short hair which had greyed just enough to give that distinguished salt and pepper look. She wore a pair of blue jeans, a pale blue shirt unbuttoned at the collar with black work boots just visible at the end of the legs that were pushed out from under the table. With her was a very slim young woman. She had long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, and over the little pink low cut top she was wearing above what was obviously a very short mini skirt. From where I was sitting I could see the tops of her stockings. I looked away quickly when the younger woman tucked herself under the table.
I looked around for more people to watch when my whole attention was taken by the most amazing woman at the bar. She sat on one of the stools one elbow resting on the bar her long legs stretched out in front of her with a pint of lager in her hand. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Ok, so I had had a couple of drinks but I had never seen her like before: 6'3 dressed all in black. She had no need to try and prove herself and wore a pair of jeans, plain trainers and a black t-shirt which pulled tight around her muscular frame in a seductive way. She was powerfully built with biceps that just made my mouth water, and the longest legs I had ever seen. She moved in a smooth, slow, self-assured manner as she scanned the room. Her hair was cut short in a fashionable spiked style, and was a wonderful wolf colour. It was her eyes that captivated me the most. They were deep amber coloured, and intense in their focus. Just at that moment I realized I had been caught. My stare had been noticed. I looked away quickly. My cheeks burned red with a surge of anxiety. I tried to hide my face in my hair as I looked down at my hands which nervously fumbled around the drink I had sat in front of me. The anxiety slowly receded enough for me to feel guilt and shame. How could I have let myself get caught. I tried to hide further behind my hair. I hoped that she would find something else to think about apart from the freak in the corner who stared at her. I stopped playing with my drink when I nearly tipped it over and looked around the room for anything to distract me from the mixed feelings of anxiety, shame, guilt, and desire that surged through me.
My eyes finally rested on a quiet mousy girl. She had long straight brown hair, and a sensible brown trouser suit. She looked like another watcher of the game. She was trying ever so hard to hide her eyes behind some book, but could not draw them away from all the people. She reminded me somewhat of a rabbit caught in the headlights her eyes wide open full of terror, as she tried to hide in the open. At least I knew I was not the only one intimidated by the huge crowd, and loud noise of a bar. The anxiety began to calm while I watched her but the guilt still burned. I would never have been caught if I had not forgotten myself because I was so attracted to the butch at the bar. It was no good thinking of her though as I knew no one like her would ever even look at someone like me. Still my mind persisted in its torment about her, and the strange intensity in her eyes as she watched me. The thought of those few seconds of eye contact sent tingles up my spine.
I tried to read the title of the book the mousy girl was hiding behind when I heard a smooth low pitched female voice beside me. The sound of the voice sent electric pulses through my flesh, but I never turned to face its owner. I knew that no one with a voice like that could possibly want to talk to me.
"Hey beautiful, I asked can I sit down?" she queried in that smooth voice repeating for me the question I had heard the first time and not answered. Stunned that someone, anyone had talked to me I tried to respond, "Yeah sure, it's a free country after all." It did not sound like the joke it had in my head instead it came out a brooding grumble.
I turned to see who had sat next to me, and could feel the colour drain from my face. It was the butch from the bar too close for comfort those long legs stretched out in front of her. The sight of them made my stomach tighten with desire. I looked up to her face. She gave me an easy smile, as she asked another question, "So do you want a drink or do you want to nurse that one for another hour?"
I looked down at my glass had it been an hour or even longer? I do not really drink it was just there for effect. Some minor attempt to try and pass off as a normal person rather than the watcher I really am.
"So what are you drinking then beautiful?" she insisted, but I still could not answer. Just her presence so close to me fuddled my mind beyond all hope of making a coherent sentence. I just looked down at my nearly empty glass and tried to get enough courage to flee. I could not just sit here and chat to her. It was too cruel. I had to listen to that voice. I wanted her so badly, and a little small talk would only increase my need. She could melt me with that voice even if I did not look at her.
