Page 7 of Sanguineous Fiend
Nope. This time I’ve really isolated myself and I can’t blame them. I need some serious help. I mean, I just spent the morning wondering what real blood would look like across my skin and murdering people as I fuck them and bled them dry. Yep. I’m a fucking psycho.
Ismooth the dress down my body. The bar in front of me has several open stools at it, so I find one on the far end and slide onto it. It’s one of those bars that influential people frequent. The after work cocktails and bourbons flow easily around the place. There are a few single people here and that’s fine.
It’s been a while since I’ve been out and drinking by myself, so I feel slightly self conscious as I sit here. The room is bathed in warm lights and the chatter is constant in the background. Men in suits and women in cocktail dresses draped at their sides.
It’s different from anything I would normally frequent. My world doesn’t bleed into this fancy one. Even wearing a dress that is green is off for me and my normal black that I wear. It makes my skin want to explode from my body, as if I’m betraying the very core of who I am.
“What can I get you, ma’am?” The bartender wipes the counter in front of me as he waits for my answer.
“Can I get a Manhattan, please?”
“Coming right up. Would you like to open a tab?”
“I’m fine.” I slide the cash across the counter.
He grabs it and passes me a drink. Heading for the register, he deposits my money inside the drawer. After that, I just nurse my drink in my hands before taking a sip and ignoring the man. He moves on to other customers and I sit back and watch those that are milling about.
I don’t know why I’m really here. It was a stupid idea to come out tonight and even more so to dress up all fancy and pretend to be a part of this crowd. I’m nothing like them and that becomes even more apparent when a man slides onto the stool next to mine.
“I haven’t seen you here before. Whom do I have the pleasure of sharing my company with?”
He’s a smooth talking man, I can tell it already. His hair is perfectly trimmed into place. A roll out of bed look that probably took him an hour to perfect. His navy suit is nicely pressed. He looks like a million dollars and his easy attitude expresses that as well.
I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling as his roams my body. Makes me want to throw up honestly, but I set my face into a stony silence and then offer a smile that is faker than this persona I’m currently wearing.
“Pheobe.”
“Jackson. It’s a pleasure to be in such fine company.”
I swallow the gag that threatens to come up at his words. Such bullshit. What woman falls for these lines?
I giggle and lay a hand on his arm as if I’m flirting with him. A light touch that means absolutely nothing to me, but his eyes light up like I just hung the moon for him.
“The pleasure is mine,” I practically purr the forced response.
Laying it on thick. Leaning into the desperate woman persona with ease. Pheobe is a woman seeking companionship with random men, and this bar is that place to do so. My blonde wig set perfectly on my head to help conceal my identity. The green dress is something I’d never wear anywhere else.
“What’s a beautiful woman doing at the bar all alone?”
“Waiting on someone interesting to share my time with, I guess.”
It’s not really a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. I’d much prefer the company of someone interesting, but that won’t get me my goal for today. There is only one thing on my mind, and it’s getting a man to take me back to their room.
“What do you like to do with your time?”
“I work as a medical receptionist.”
Simple and a good cover for a bimbo blonde persona. Enough to make his ego not bruise, but also a great cover story for my ability to afford nice things. He won’t think twice about a receptionist.
“And in your spare time? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I prefer to stay home by myself. I occasionally enjoy a night out, which is why I looked this place up. A friend at work mentioned they make good drinks here and sometimes they had some even better company.”
I flirt with him and take a sip of my drink. I smile over the lip of the glass and then sit it down slowly.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a lawyer. Nothing fancy, just a corporate lawyer for some companies in the area. A bunch of boring stuff, to be honest.” He waves his hands in front of him to dismiss the whole thing.
