Thirsty

Thirsty, at a bar, it was a waste of money for the martini in front of her; it's not why she was really there. They all knew why she sat there, what her real thirst was. With a straight back and her bust on display, a man is what she wants, if only the men today would consider her.

         Time used to be her enemy; she now took the thrashing with pride. Wrinkles lashed onto her face were now just another challenge. The Botox beauties that surround her at the bar, at every bar, were also challenges. Those crones stimulate her, made the game fun. Young, thin and natural ladies were too inexperienced to pose a real threat. These old women, who had time to practice and learn the game, they were the real challenge. Their skin like wax, shining, reflecting light, helping some attract men like the common ravens attracted to a penny, something useless, just as they were. Some covered with too much make up; eye shadow and concealer were their major allies. Allies who helped them hide the fact that the night before they failed in their quests.

         Back when she started, she could easily snag one, maybe two a night, if needed. Bring them to an unfamiliar territory. A place where she was in control, able to use and abuse anyway she wanted. Back when her lack of experience was made up for by looks, allowing her to practice.
         
         Now it is a challenge, just to get their attention. That was hard enough let alone getting them to follow her. It wasn't the intimacy she longed for; no it was the indulgence she wanted. She was well versed, posing and following her steps.

Allowing them to think they chose her, but she chose them, she made the decision for them, even before they knew her name, before they knew she was there, they were hers.

         Her fingers, also marked and showing lines of her true age, allowed her to pull on one, slowing caressing and enjoying the feel. Just like the men she used to have, she chose its fate, and lit the cigarette she perched on her lips. That used to be enough. Men would picture their own, being positioned delicately by her hands and then lips. They pictured being sucked on, filling her with pleasure, as if they were able to satisfy the thirst.

Once their mind was clear, that's when they were enjoyed.

Clear minded, focused, aware of their surroundings. She enjoyed them knowing. She took pleasure in them realizing that they were taking their last breath.