I sit at the computer, thinking of you Ray - waiting for the blood to spill on the screen, words taking shape from my thoughts. All of these days I'll be missing you. ...at the bar I enter the bar and remain at the door, letting the eyes of men rove my body while my own eyes assimilate to the dim lighting. Seeing less than a dozen patrons, all men, belly to the bar and tapping away at machines, I take a stool near the jukebox. The constant clicking slows for a moment as the men stare and let me know they are aware of me. Smoke hangs in the silence that forms and I tilt my head to allow the men a better view of me. The barkeep approaches and I order a martini, smiling at his shock. Can't a girl drink a martini at nine in the morning? While he shakes the tin and ices my glass, I scan the room. Every set of eyes watches me for I'm the only woman here. This bar seems to be a male haven, with a cigar room against the far wall and a hanging punching bag that men love to use to excise testosterone. Barkeep places the martini in front of me and disappears into the stock room. Taking my first sip, I smile when I see a man of middle age with gray flecks in curly brown hair sit next to me. I can feel heat coming from his body and close my eyes for a moment trying to imagine the lines he will use to lure me into his clutches. While I wait for the inevitable assault, I insert money into the jukebox and select a song. "I hate this fucking song," he says, smiling. "Is that a fact?" I ask, returning his smile and crossing my legs in his direction. The shorts I wear cover nothing and he can see all of my pale skin. Our eyes connect and I let his stare bore into me, trying to touch places inside best left alone. "I've never seen you here before, is this your first time in Vegas?" "Yes, I arrived in Vegas yesterday," I say, loving the way his attention keeps returning to my legs. He laughs and inches his stool closer to mine, the rough denim of his work jeans brushing against my knee. "Let me guess, you're a model." I nod to him and hear the door ring. Turning, I see Saul enter the bar and take a seat near us, close enough to hear our conversation. "I knew it. Would I know any of your work?" He places a hand on my thigh and I see Saul's jaw clench as the barkeep pours a beer. I do not remove his hand and pretend not to notice. It's amazing how fast a man will push things if you simply do nothing to stop him. He caresses my skin and tells me a joke. I don't even pretend to hear it or him and sing with the song. I come home in the morning light and George keeps asking when I will live my life right.... "Those aren't the lyrics," he says, lighting a cigarette.
I look into his eyes and give him my best smile, "Yes, they really are the lyrics." While he ponders a response, the palm of his hand slides higher on my thigh. Oh, the plain bold sass of older men. It makes me smile to watch Saul writhe in anger, gripping the beer so tightly I think he might break the glass. "I would love to take you to dinner," he says after a long pause and another playing of the song. I laugh and laugh and laugh at him. It's so easy. Just sit and wait for a man to fall into the snare. It takes less than five minutes. "No need to take me to dinner," I say, pressing play on the jukebox again. I smile as his lizard mind takes in my statement. And now the games begin. in the morning, when I think on all that happened during the night, I'll light a candle for you to say goodbye. This is the exit music for your life. ...and now your watch has ended. A MEETING ...in the library I can't help pacing. Patience has never been my virtue and feel anger rising as I glance at the grandfather clock behind the desk. My butler is late to service again and it's filling me with rage. Saul watches me, smirking and smiling, quite happy to watch my dissatisfaction with George Jr. Oh, Saul, Jealousy is an ugly emotion, sir and won't get you back into my bed. Ana enters with a stack of paperwork and I rush to her side. I see stock charts and picture printouts from the security cameras. She never stops working it seems. "Where have you been all morning?" I ask. She scowls at me and sits at my desk, looking at the charts without answering my question. Saul laughs and pours more coffee for me, playing butler. The sight of his broad shoulders threatening to burst the Tuxedo I made him wear chases away my frown and I join him in laughter. "Someone has to do the work around here," Ana says. I hear a touch of anger in her voice and I wonder if it's for me or perhaps Saul. "Ana...," I say, sighing. "I promise George Jr will start helping soon or we'll find someone else. I know you're overworked." "Better just find the replacement. George's only interest is in being obsessed with you, not in serving Holden Farms," Saul says, placing my breakfast in front of me. I just shrug, for I can't disagree with the statement. Ana pushes the papers to one side and crosses her legs, looking from Saul to me and taking several deep breaths before speaking. "While you've been playing house with your new toy, I've been trying to find Ryan. What can you tell me about him? I must be missing something in his file." I sigh and remain quiet. It's the very thing I've been thinking about late at night. Where are you, Ryan? You have danced out of reach for these last two years, but never made contact. I chew my toast in silence while Ana waits for a reply. I simply don't know what I'm missing. George Jr enters through the servant door and Saul lets out a chuckle. Drama and obsession today at Holden Farms. It's going to be a long day. Pushing aside my plate, I stand and walk towards the exit, George Jr leading in front of me. It's time for Tea, my lovely readers and friends. Will you join me? Mozart in the Morning - Marriage of Figaro - Songs from Your Funeral - #Mozart #Marriage #death8/6/2014 I woke from a nightmare and I can't shake it from my mind. I was MARRIED to some boy and it was like an old fashioned arranged marriage and I was expected to cook for him. And to be a devoted servant wife. Ah, what a nightmare. Now, the song playing remains. Marriage of Figaro. I must listen to it again. Hello to all, I welcome you to tea in Las Vegas. Today I'm thrilled to present the latest horror installment from a favorite author of mine, Justin Bog. We've been reading along with the story at tea each week, eagerly awaiting the new episode. Enough of me squealing like a fangirl, here is the story. A Play Demonic (The Queen’s Idle Fancy) — Part 15 by Justin Bog Under his breath, still coming off a tweaker’s high, Pete “Petey” Quarles repeatedly hummed, mumbled the words pig, pig, piggy at the police officer walking ahead of him towards the release area, really a glass-walled partition with a slot where they could hand him his belongings, which amounted to a pair of sneakers wrapped in a brown paper bag. He had crazy, animalistic, tics, one side of his mouth always rising and falling, hands clenching into fists, off and on, rapidly, giving energy away. The full jailhouse scrounged up a lost pair of jeans, a rank, dirty white t-shirt, and a hoodie that still had splashes of blood all across the back, and a knife slit, widening near the left shoulder-blade area. Arrested for public nudity, public nuisance, disturbing the peace, attempted assault, resisting arrest, and drug use (a known meth user on the island—one of many) Petey had been brought in wearing only his black Converse All-Stars. They allowed Petey to sleep his high off on the concrete floor of a cell that already housed eight others. For those following online today, PLEASE go to Justin's site to read the rest of the installment. I'll be happy if you did that for me. *smiles* After you read the story, click the art piece to visit Bogdanovitch.com
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