Temptation in the...

         It was the serpent whispering in my ear that night. The one who said I would not surely die. The one who insisted that I bite into that temptation, that apple in the blue suit. He stood by the bar leaning nonchalantly, his dark gaze raking my form. Memorizing my every curve and gesture, and burning a trail from my breasts to my feet, slipped neatly into a pair of black stilettos.

You will not surely die.

The ring is warm and heavy when temptation, like a serpent strikes, holding fast to that part of you.

Spilling it’s venom.

          Honesty demanded that I admit to myself how much I was enjoying the attention. I stood as a deer in the headlights, my dark eyes wide, lined with that liner I knew made them just pop, my full lips parted, an invitation if ever there was one, and he stared.

         Stared, as if he knew beneath my skirt I wore nothing. The fact was to me, completely evident. The heaviness between my legs belied my blasé demeanor. I turned my back to the dark stranger, sipping from my glass, catching snatches of conversation from the crowded room ; Concentrating on anything but that pair of eyes steadily watching me, now boring a heated hole into my back willing me to turn once more.

          I turned slowly, my body moving as if by its own volition toward that juicy slither of temptation, tilted against the bar. Smiling now, knowing, he knew I wanted, more than this silly flirt of the eyes. My feet talk for my paralyzed lips. Coming closer to that Eden, that oasis in the dessert everything else had become. If the crowd had held my interest before, it did not now, my vision was focused. Taken by this temptation beyond any I had ever known.

         I stepped close breathing in his scent, my hand dipped discreet into his pocket, depositing there that, single slip of plastic. The key to my rooms and to me. The tango toward the fall from grace had started.