Post by Dimitri Winters on Jun 9, 2017 17:33:09 GMT -6
Jazz. Like sweetened honey to Dimitri Winters’ ears. A both whimsical and melodic sound that filled his heart with unsavoury melancholy. He tossed back his fifth whisky and started to feel the music through his soul. Beautiful. Then Dimitri laughed sharply, without humour. The alcohol must have got to him early that night. The barman, in preparation to pour another, was halted by Dimitri’s hand, suspended over the glass; trimmed nails clicking against the empty crystal in time with the song. “Not today Jack,” he sighed, staring hard at the table in front of him.
“What’s wrong, D? No one catching your eye today?” The barman, Jack, grumbled in laughter. He caught himself almost immediately. “Putting this on your tab, I’m guessin’?” He continued more intensely, pursing his slim lips through his likewise moustache.
“You know me, my man. Until I get paid.”
A snort resonated through the busy bar, though only Dimitri heard it clearly enough to associate the sound with him.
“If you’re not spendin’ it on hookers, you mean,” Jack chuckled, winking at the miserable man before him. “Don’t look at me like that, I know you don’t do that stuff. Christ, D, lighten up. Listen, if you won’t take the drink I suppose I better help you out a little,” he sighed, leaning forward on the bar, allowing the bottle of whisky that was grasped in his hand to thump satisfyingly on the wood. He jerked his head to the right. “The girl over there’s been makin’ ‘fuck me’ eyes all night at you. Thought you were ignoring her, boss. Seems you’ve not been on your game,” he humoured before straightening up. “But that’s none of my business. Go enjoy yourself,” he added briskly, sending another wink in his direction.
Dimitri followed Jack’s inclination and found himself locking eyes with a blonde. Oh fuck, she was gorgeous. He could only guess as to why he hadn’t spotted her before. Her thick, platinum hair fell to her lower back in waves; plump lips clasped around a straw with a red liquid at the receiving end; she had dusted her eyelids with the faintest of blue that matched the oceans of her eyes. And the dress she wore! Oh god, Dimitri found himself taking her in with a wolf-like hungriness. Her dress was a pale chiffon that clung to her body like a goddess’ would: in all the right places (and didn’t leave much to D’s imagination), ending just above her knees, which were crossed over on the stool she sat on. Dimitri found himself approaching her, two predators locked in battle, sizing each other up and just waiting for the other to slip, to get bored.
They didn’t.
“Can I help you, darling?” she asked Dimitri finally, the faintest of smirks twisting her cherry-like lips.
“You probably could, dollface,” he confirmed, allowing a small grin to pass over to her. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing gently and took another sip of her drink. “Your necklace is beautiful, by the way. Gold-plated?” He reached forward and hooked a finger underneath the bird pendant, careful not to allow his hand to slip. She leaned forward, blue eyes locked with brown, their noses almost touching. Dimitri could smell strawberries on her breath and the intense lustful perfume that hung around them both. He dropped his hand. The jazz music ceased to exist; as if a bubble had formed itself around them both. The alcohol sent his heart flurrying in excitement.
The girl ignored his question and fluttered her eyelids at him, like a butterfly’s wing.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she whispered, her breath a soft feather-like blanket against his skin. “I’m Hazel,” she continued.
“Dimitri,” he grunted in reply, becoming increasingly intoxicated by this Hazel character.
“Want to have a little fun?”
“My dear, I thought you’d never ask.”
“What’s wrong, D? No one catching your eye today?” The barman, Jack, grumbled in laughter. He caught himself almost immediately. “Putting this on your tab, I’m guessin’?” He continued more intensely, pursing his slim lips through his likewise moustache.
“You know me, my man. Until I get paid.”
A snort resonated through the busy bar, though only Dimitri heard it clearly enough to associate the sound with him.
“If you’re not spendin’ it on hookers, you mean,” Jack chuckled, winking at the miserable man before him. “Don’t look at me like that, I know you don’t do that stuff. Christ, D, lighten up. Listen, if you won’t take the drink I suppose I better help you out a little,” he sighed, leaning forward on the bar, allowing the bottle of whisky that was grasped in his hand to thump satisfyingly on the wood. He jerked his head to the right. “The girl over there’s been makin’ ‘fuck me’ eyes all night at you. Thought you were ignoring her, boss. Seems you’ve not been on your game,” he humoured before straightening up. “But that’s none of my business. Go enjoy yourself,” he added briskly, sending another wink in his direction.
Dimitri followed Jack’s inclination and found himself locking eyes with a blonde. Oh fuck, she was gorgeous. He could only guess as to why he hadn’t spotted her before. Her thick, platinum hair fell to her lower back in waves; plump lips clasped around a straw with a red liquid at the receiving end; she had dusted her eyelids with the faintest of blue that matched the oceans of her eyes. And the dress she wore! Oh god, Dimitri found himself taking her in with a wolf-like hungriness. Her dress was a pale chiffon that clung to her body like a goddess’ would: in all the right places (and didn’t leave much to D’s imagination), ending just above her knees, which were crossed over on the stool she sat on. Dimitri found himself approaching her, two predators locked in battle, sizing each other up and just waiting for the other to slip, to get bored.
They didn’t.
“Can I help you, darling?” she asked Dimitri finally, the faintest of smirks twisting her cherry-like lips.
“You probably could, dollface,” he confirmed, allowing a small grin to pass over to her. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing gently and took another sip of her drink. “Your necklace is beautiful, by the way. Gold-plated?” He reached forward and hooked a finger underneath the bird pendant, careful not to allow his hand to slip. She leaned forward, blue eyes locked with brown, their noses almost touching. Dimitri could smell strawberries on her breath and the intense lustful perfume that hung around them both. He dropped his hand. The jazz music ceased to exist; as if a bubble had formed itself around them both. The alcohol sent his heart flurrying in excitement.
The girl ignored his question and fluttered her eyelids at him, like a butterfly’s wing.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she whispered, her breath a soft feather-like blanket against his skin. “I’m Hazel,” she continued.
“Dimitri,” he grunted in reply, becoming increasingly intoxicated by this Hazel character.
“Want to have a little fun?”
“My dear, I thought you’d never ask.”