"Can I buy you a drink?" He offers. I give him a glance. Tall, with broad shoulders, yet slender with a abundance of rich black hair, light grey eyes and stubbly chin.
He's cute, ordinarily I would accept, but tonight I smile and give a polite "Maybe another time."
I believe I fell in love 4 minutes ago. Or lust. Whichever, standing on the bar's small stage is the loveliest girl I have ever seen in my life, violin in hand, bowing out a melody that touches my soul. Her song is almost as beautiful as her.
She must be about 5"8, but from where I sit I can't tell. She is slender, her hips flare out subtly, yet beautifully, and from what I can tell from what I see in that classically delicate, ever so pale pink, strappy dress that she wears, her breasts are perfect. She stands awkwardly on stage, her toes slightly turned in, which I find charming in a sweet, childish way. Her legs are slender and long and I can't help but picture them wrapped around my neck.
Her song continues and my eyes move up to the most beautiful part of her. Beneath a mass of stylishly cut, dirty blonde hair, her eyes are closed, her nose turns slightly upwards at the end, and her lips, drawn into the slightest of smiles, are dark pink, pouty and as lovely as the rest of her.
Through the smoke I see that jazz enthusiasts and jazz musicians alike are all mesmerised either by her song, her appearance, or, in my case, both.
To my great and utter disappointment, it ends. She finally opens her eyes, and to my amazement, they are as dark as night, almost black. She lets the violin drop from her chin and holds it loosely at her thigh. Smiling a dazzling smile, she bows as the bar applauds her, and walks off.
"She's great, isn't she?" the bartender asks as I spin around.
I smile and nod. "She's incredible.." I agree. I buy another drink and start a conversation with the striking young man sitting next to me, but my heart just isn't into it. We talk for half an hour about music, art and sex, the holy trinity as far as everyone in this bar is concerned, and I couldn't agree more.
After a few more minutes, I hear a slight French accent to my left, and I turn to see the beautiful creature I fell in love with this very night, leaning over the counter speaking to the bartender. They both turn to look at me. "Lee," he starts, "I was just telling Antoinette here how much you enjoyed her music." Then he turns to her, "She couldn't keep her eyes off you!" She laughs beautifully and smiles at me, and I can feel my face turning red. "It's a pleasure to meet you." she says, and takes my hand in hers and shakes it gently. I notice her soft palms and delicately long, slender fingers. The hands of a musician.