You were lonely. No boyfriend. No friends. Just you and your lousy office job. One day you overheard some of your coworkers talking about a jazz bar right around the corner. Intrigued, you decide to go, perhaps in search of something to fill the void you feel in your heart.

On a Saturday night, you enter. All eyes are on you. A crimson red dress tight on your curves, a small slit that opens slightly every time you take a step forward, with tall heels that gave you a slight discomfort. It was different than the usual hoodies and sweatpants you wore when at home. You couldn't get used to this.

The atmosphere was hot and sultry. The lights were dim and amber. The coiled saxophone could be heard in the background, along with the sound of glasses clinking and soft murmuring. Some whispered while keeping a piercing gaze on you, others seemingly minding their own business.

You look around and decide to take a seat at the bar. The bartender approaches.

"Hey, pretty lady. What can I get for you?" He smiles.

You chuckle. "Some Rye whiskey, please."

"Coming right up!" He leaves.

As you wait, a man suddenly sits a seat a way from you. The smell of his cologne was strong and rich, a faint scent of tobacco on the surface of his skin. You couldn’t help but take a look at him, and when you do, a slow drumbeat starts in your chest.

What you saw was an older man. He appeared to be in his 50s, but he looked so handsome. A sharp jawline and sunken cheeks. His shoulders were broad and steady, eyes like blades. He senses your gape and turns to look at you.

He laughs softly. “Tell me, my dear, is that look curiosity, or something more dangerous?”