All I See (Short Story)

All I See

She was a head-turner, you see. With those big black curls that reach her elbows, those wide brown eyes that always sparkle mischievously, and thick black lashes that require no mascara, she could easily enrapture anyone she wants.

I first saw her in a local barroom, standing beautifully on the stage while singing Bluer than Blue. Her voice was soft, inviting, and very feminine. It was melodious, it was soothing to the ears. It will make you feel like the gates of heaven suddenly opened up for you. And so, instead of leaving for home, I decided to stay longer.

I wanted to listen to her, I needed to hear more from her.

I sat there, watching her from the dimly lit corner of the pub, drinking my glass of liquor laggardly. She sang slowly while closing her eyes and swaying her broad hips. I looked around the room and saw that the audience was silent, eyeing her every move with awe and great interest. Reclining, I suddenly chuckled to myself as the irony of the moment settled in. This lady is singing bluer than blue, but she was clad in a backless dress the color of a freshly picked cherry. And her lips... God, this woman's lips are sinfully coated with a lipstick the shade of red wine.

Her voice was reverberating in all corners of the confined space, reminding me that she is a vixen who deserves to be looked upon, a temptress to be admired by men. The magnetic pull was too great that I could not resist. I took another look at her and all I see... All I see is red.

I have always had this weird habit of associating people with colors. My mother was a white, my father and younger brother were both yellow and my sister was a purple. I don't know how or when exactly that peculiar habit started but I do know that I've never—ever—associated anyone with the color red before.

There was pink, there was lilac, there was salmon, there was maroon, but never a red. Until now.

Her callipygian posterior was nice to look at, her round and perky breasts were a glorious scenery, and her small waist was to die for. I could not help but ponder how God could've let someone like her walk freely on the earth. She was too gorgeous that she could beguile men, two or maybe three at a time.

She would incite desire.
And when there is desire, sin usually follows.

I was scrutinizing all her movements, my observant eyes noticing all the unnecessary actions, the way she twirled loose strands of her hair on her nimble fingers, the way she her lashes would flutter, and the way she would sexily gasp for breath after every song.

Her eyes were scanning the room, winking at random drunkards and then finally, those twinkling brown orbs landed on me. I saw the burning desire in them, or maybe she was just simply good at deceiving. Her long lashes fluttered like gentle butterfly wings, giving me a seductive wink — one that I will surely never forget.

She was Eve, you see. And that act was like presenting the forbidden fruit, the apple of the Garden of Eden.

I stood up, left a bill above the creaking table and exited the barroom. I slipped my hands inside my pockets and walked briskly toward my apartment situated a few blocks away. The clock tower nearby indicates that it is already ten in the evening.

I thought about the tempting singer and heat passed through me. My breathing hitched, and then my eyes dimmed. I see her lips, I see myself undressing her, the cherry-colored dress falling from her body to the tiled floor.

All I see is red.

The next day, after I got home from work, I quickly headed to the pub. And as I was expecting, she was already onstage, singing yet another classic song. It was a personal favorite — Can't Smile without You. But this time, she was wearing a little wine-red dress that showed off generous amount of her skin. Her long shapely legs were impressive, and her slender arms seemed delicate.