Who's Got The Poison? Part 1

Anyone watching would know she was agitated. She'd readjusted herself on the impossibly uncomfortable bar stool more times than she would have liked to, her long, caramel-toned legs subconsciously coming to rest at positions that most would refer to as far from decent each time, and her feet, clad in gold-coloured, stiletto-heeled sandals, dangling just a few inches off the ground. She made no attempt to still the gentle swinging motion her legs had begun, and the chime that emanated from the clashing of her heels against the stool was audible to only she above the blaring music. Yes, she was agitated.

Shifting for what seemed like the millionth time, she glanced at her watch. Realising she'd been waiting for eight minutes didn't ease her mood. Waiting on people she despised from the depth of her soul and she cursed whatever spiritual force had compelled her to leave her house without receiving confirmation that he was already at the appointed venue. Making a mental note to chalk this up as one of the reasons why change wasn't as wonderful as everyone seemed to think it was, she picked up her drink and took a sip.

She smiled to herself. She was an attention whore, and sitting directly beneath one of the low-hung bar lights had made sure she got plenty of the attention she craved. Of course, the men could have been staring for any number of reasons. It could have been those long smooth legs that led up to thighs that were barely covered by the brown dress she had on, or the dress itself. That strapless, skin-tight brown dress that complimented her tan skin and hugged her curvaceous body, revealing smooth shoulders covered in glitter. It could have been the head the shoulders carried, or, more accurately, the lightly made-up face. She hardly ever put make up on at night. "Who needs more than some powder and lip gloss at night?" She would often say. And she didn't, her facial features caught attention without any help. Almond-shaped eyes that were a deep caramel, a button-like nose, and lips that were just off the coastline of ridiculously small and pouty, were carved perfectly unto her oval face. As the bar light highlighted all these features, the attention it brought her was the only reason she'd remained on that stool for as long as she had.

She glanced longingly at the exit, and that was when she saw him. He was seated at the other end of the bar, surrounded by a small group of people and, although there was nothing particularly gripping about his features that she could see, her eyes couldn't stray from him. She found herself wondering what he and his companions could possibly be discussing that made him laugh as hard as he did. "And why is he the only one sitting? How very rude. I'd be really peeved if..." She jumped and almost slid off the stool when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Did I scare you?" His voice easily carried over the blaring music, and she turned around to assess the human being that had jolted her out of her thoughts. He appeared to be about the same height as she, if not slightly shorter, and a bit on the lanky side. "This wouldn't do." She thought to herself. Because she prided herself in wearing heels everywhere, this meant she'd always appear taller than he was, and she couldn't bear the thought of being higher above the ground than her escort. There wasn't much to be said for his looks. His head, in her opinion, was oddly shaped like a light bulb and not at all proportional to his body. She panned her gaze down, towards the shoes he had on, deliberately refusing to place too much thought on the hideous blazer, t-shirt and jeans he had chosen to wear. He had on white trainers. One that was particularly similar to the kind she had rocked as a child in the '80s and '90s. Her mind was in amazement "What year does he think this is? Chai! The devil is truly a liar." Just then he extended his hand "I'm Kevin." He said "I assume you are Kemi?"

Struggling to keep her voice level and her face expressionless, she shook her head "No, sorry."
"Are you sure? Because I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, and you're wearing the same dress she said she would wear." He waited for her response. None came. She just took a sip from her glass, so he continued "Anyway, it doesn't really matter. Like I said, my name is Kevin. May I know you?"
Unable to tolerate his presence a second longer, she rolled her eyes and put her drink down "Come. I thought you said you're meeting someone. I have now said I'm not that 'someone'. Please, kindly move from my plane of vision." Shocked by such a cold response, Kevin could only stand there and babble incoherently. This further agitated her. "You know what?" She picked her purse up of the bar and slid off the stool. "Stay ehn? Lemme excuse you. Good luck with whoever it is you're waiting for." And with that, she walked away towards her regular booth in the corner. She smiled at one of the pole dancers on her way. She loved how secluded the booth was, mostly because she could very comfortably watch all the happenings at the club unseen. Once she'd settled in, her gaze wandered around the scene that was now quickly filling up. The neon beams of light only focused on one spot for a fraction of a second as they danced around, seemingly in tune with the music blaring from the speakers. She watched the dancer she'd smiled at for a couple of seconds, and then she moved her attention to the bar. Someone else had taken her place, and there were a lot more people standing around. Her eyes moved down along the bar. He was still there. Still laughing and talking with his friends. And then he turned, and their eyes met.