Lights twinkle against the darkness, neon coats the asphalt in a dreamy glow. The underworld has come alive and the city glimmers with promise. I waft through the balmy air down the gridded streets as laughter dances around me while music pours out of open doors.
I arrive at a grimy dive with sticky floors and a waterlogged bar top. Couples kiss in corners and slow dance between the bar stools. There is an old jukebox spitting out a crooning tune against the wall. The bartender slides me a lukewarm glass of spiced rum and I pass him cash. The ice in my drink has melted so fast it almost overflows. I sip at the rim and move to a standing table at the back of the bar, just another body blowing smoke at the ceiling.
The rum sings in my veins. I allow it to take me as the edges of the world soften. I suck the juice from the orange wedge and observe the drunken bodies stumbling around. I admire the women with their metallic fringe and silky dresses, the way they bat their lashes and balance on high heels. I have never had to master this artistry. My company has always found me.
As if on queue a hand slides another glass of amber rum next to my empty one. I look up, and lo and behold, a man is smirking at his own cleverness. I eye him, take in his strong hands and lean body. His green eyes flash with something intriguing, and I smile, raising the glass to my lips and taking a deep drink. He tells me his name and asks for mine, leaning in close so that he can hear me over the din, invading my senses. I put my hand on his chest and whisper it in his ear. This dance is always so arousing, no matter how many times I indulge.
The more we drink, the bolder he becomes. I enjoy his fumbling as I humiliate him with easy glances. He thinks he is disarming me, and I laugh because he is not. The bar has become crowded, but his eyes are glued to me. He wants to know about me, where I go and what I do. I craft a story about a life I don’t live. I don’t ask him a thing about himself, and happily he doesn’t offer any details. He is captivated, the way they all are. I am the carnivorous plant and he is the house fly.