Femme Fatale.

Chapter One.

*If you enjoy listening to music while reading, check out the playlist I made for this story. The song number corresponds with each chapter: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7CE3bW9TeikdoMuPIuHYPm?si=6276523f72994b13

Undoubtedly, there's no better way than to spend your night alone and slouched in an cheap lounge chair at a club. Can you sense the sarcasm there? To make a very long story short, your boyfriend that you've been with for years had just called it quits because you were far too "emotionally draining" for him. That phrase in itself made you sound like some horribly abusive woman, but in reality you were just someone who struggles with keeping a sound mind. It's not like you're crazy or anything. You guess to your now ex boyfriend, simply reaching out for help when you need it made you crazy. If that was the case, then so be it.

You placed your arms down on the table and rested your head, looking through your now watered down gin and tonic. The lights shining through the glass looked so beautiful, so peaceful. Maybe you would just rest your eyes for a few seconds. Even if you did happen to fall asleep, people would just assume that you were a bust out drunk and at this point, you didn't really care.

As soon as you were about to doze off, the sound of a woman' s singing voice had woken you up. You were a little groggy, but as soon as you drew your attention to the stage and your eyes had met hers for just a split second, a surge of energy rushed through you. Between her stunning appearance and that godly voice, she had captivated you completely.

When you had realized that she was singing It's A Man's Man's Man's world you were only more engaged. This was a song that you really needed to hear right now.

The song was nearing its end. When the woman sang the words this is a man's world, this is a man's world. But it would be nothing, nothing without a girl. She had pointed at you. Could she tell that you were hurting? No you idiot, you just happened to be the closest table to her. The voice in your head had told you. You desperately wanted it to be because she could read the possible pain on your face, but that little voice of yours was probably right. Why would she care anyway?

The music had faded as her performance ended. You stood up and clapped for her. You looked around and noticed that no one seemed to care what a killer job she had just done! They were treating it like it was elevator music.

She took notice of your encouragement, said a soft thank you through the microphone and offered you a small wave. Okay, so maybe this night wasn't as bad as you thought.

You were standing up anyway, so you figured that you would grab yourself a fresh drink.

You sat down at the bar and requested another gin and tonic. Just then, you felt a drunken hand hit your shoulder. "Hey missy."