Just as I pocketed the keepsakes from my new friend at the pub, the door swung open - one of the policemen from my resident crime scene traipsed in. No longer in uniform but dressed in a long sleeve black knit with the words “Dead Head” chipping away on the front right corner of it. His jeans were lightly ripped at the knees, exposing the brightest white I’d ever seen illuminating from a man's body before - that includes teeth. The pale popo didn’t seem to notice me lurking at the corner table with one of Bourbon Street’s least likely to succeed… that is, before I found him. Who knows, if he cleaned up nicely and followed my requests to the last dotted note, he might even become a lover… or perhaps my future Voodoo King. Time and experimentation will only tell. 

Once again, my wrist dropped my hand into the side skirt pocket with the younger blonde’s poppet- it was time to test loyalties. My eyes searched for the toilet doors and, upon discovery, I leaned across the table towards my unwelcoming host and whispered, “I’ll be right back. Just need to make a visit to the bathroom, but you enjoy that free drink while I’m gone. If you’re smart enough to stick around until I get back, you just might get another.” A smirk infiltrated my lips. My single audience member of that little speech didn’t even look up to acknowledge I spoke, let alone respond. He was a tough nut to crack. He was perfect. 

My hips swayed, ruffling the bottoms of my skirt to and fro. I am each person in this bar’s destiny. They just don’t know me yet. It’s time to make that change. Scanning the room for the biggest, most confident, least malleable bastard in there, I choose my route to walk directly past him. But along the way, we would lock eyes and I would channel Oshun to her fullest power. I feel my lower lip pout, my brows raise, and Oshun’s invisible hands tugs the front of my dress down to expose more of my bosom. He is locked and loaded. My enchanting enticement begins. My head turns downwards towards him as I pass; the stranger acts on his cave dweller mentality and automatically reaches to grab my left buttock. 

Showtime. 

Flipping my draped body one hundred eighty degrees, I look directly at my offender. The dark chestnut of my irises and palpitating black pupils bore holes through his, which stare back in the most threatening of manners. He means business. He means to have his way with me. Sadly for him, he’ll be leaving here quite empty-handed, wrists bound. I, on the other hand, am just starting the night off my way. 

My mouth opens just slight enough to emit the highest of shrieks. A peasant sitting outside might have thought it a strange defensive bird call from some of the region's peskiest porch poopers. All heads in the bar seem to synonymously swivel in my direction like dandelion heads in a windstorm. The recently rumbling voices pause to a low roar of whispered curiosities and unanswered inquiries. 

I speak.

“How dare you touch me there. I don’t care how much you claim to want me - rape is illegal in this great country and there are plenty of witnesses here to help tell my tale in court.” I watch as the stranger's face deepens into a pit of wrinkled confusion. He knows, I know, he hasn’t said a single word to me. Just one false premeditated move and his ass is grass, as they say. Looking up and away, I see my friendly enforcer charging through the crowd that has now formed. His arms outstretched and separating the sea of faces to get to me. To save me, he thinks. What an idiot. The perfect idiot for my army - he is now my soldier. And I, his “government”.

Before I know it, Mr. Policeman not only has the strange man on the floor with his arms restrained behind his back but he is slipping those charming steel cuffs around his wrists praddeling off his government’s right to arrest and the detainees rights behind bars. 

Bye, bye fucker. Hello soldier number one. 

And there you are. Standing now, peering over the tops of the heads. The derelict, watching me from afar. I have peeked your interest and he has now peeked mine even more. A handsomely misconstrued, tortured soul - he may very well become my lover…

Stepping over the newly arrested ass-grabber, I make my way back to you.