It was as if a pinch of fog was all that stood between Rihanna and the complete memory that would connect her to the situation in which she found herself this morning, lying on her own couch, head the size of a dirigible- sticky and sore in all the wrong places.
She had gone to the Zulu Club, of that she could be sure, as she had carefully chosen the dress she awoke to find dangling about her throat like a necklace, because the leopard print seemed appropriate for a club that had the reputation of being quite the hot spot for wealthy young men on the prowl.
She had purposely gone there alone, because she knew her desire to go to the Zulu of all places, screamed “desperate” in so shrill a tone, even the thought of admitting she was entertaining the idea of going there to any of the girls she worked with, brought rose to her cheeks and a tear to her eye.
But, that was the truth of it, she had reminded herself repeatedly, and nearly become willing to accept, as she nursed three or was it four vodka martinis, sitting alone at the smooth leather cusped bar trying hard to avoid her own reflection, feigning contentment as she swirled the olive in her drink with the barbed spear that served as a swizzle stick.
His face came to her in waves, it was a young face, much younger than her thirty seven years, framed in tousled blond hair that slightly obscured clear blue or were they brown eyes, she couldn’t really remember as she was so grateful for the attentions he was paying her, it hadn’t really mattered.
As she groped her way across the living room and pulled aside the drape, verifying her car was indeed in the drive, she knew she had hit a new low- not only did she have no recollection of driving home- again, but for the life of her, she couldn’t even remember his name.
Written for Girlie on the Edge’s Six Sentence Story cue word- milestone and Misky’s Twiglet, ‘a pinch of fog’.
Thru Violet's Lentz 
In a few well chosen words you capture her desperation
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
Oh dear, you’ve been reading my diary again! 🙂 🙂 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Uh oh I’ve been found out!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Gotcha! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your 6 describes a night, I guarantee, more women than not have experienced. Which begs the question – what is the “desperate” Rihanna is really dealing with??
“…because the leopard print seemed appropriate for a club that had the reputation of being quite the hot spot for wealthy young men on the prowl”. This line is so simple, yet a perfect metaphor to convey your character’s intent as she ventured out for the evening.
Perfectly written!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Girlie!
LikeLike
“…brought rose to her cheeks and a tear to her eye.” I love lines like this. Words that create a ‘visual’ and have a rhythm that carries the reader all the way to the end.
“…trying hard to avoid her own reflection” hah! the horrible implication being that she did not succeed.
Good Six, yo
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you clark!
LikeLike
Great descriptives! I want to make her coffee.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is so tender of you Lisa. I think she could use a cup.
LikeLiked by 1 person
☕
LikeLike
I agree with Lisa… coffee and the right companionship!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just knowing as a woman she is soooo not alone is a wonderful thing..
LikeLiked by 1 person
A new low is a sad milestone. Hope she feels better soon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Kristi.
LikeLike
That’s a rough start to the weekend.The ol’ car in drive verification- I’m glad she’s home safe and hope she figures things out. Well told tale.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you D.
LikeLiked by 1 person