The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Introducing Vicki Vanilla
What she does in her private time. Once a Thief
The room is dark and smoky, silent jazz music playing in the background.
Men and women are looking at the empty stage, waiting for her.
A spotlight appears, and in the glowing circle, a majestic figure sitting on a stool.
Her lips are the colour of rich burgundy, and thick, dark eyelashes cast a shadow on her perfect, aristocratic cheekbones. She casts a look at the audience, but her eyes never rest on one person. She appears to be above everyone, like a noblewoman of a time long ago.
She takes the microphone in a delicate hand; her dark scarlet-painted nails a sharp contrast to her pale skin. The music stops, and she starts to sing.
Her deep, low voice and uniquely striking features suit the atmosphere of the song. The listeners feel themselves being drawn into it, and the experience is not unlike drowning in molasses, dark and heavy and sweet. The musicians join her, one by one, until the song is flowing and the tension eases up. The audience is captivated, and the femme fatal on the stage knows it. She is a Queen.
When the song ends, she stays on the stool in silence for a few moments. The men and women, her flock, begin to clap, slowly. They feel like they've been awakened from a dream. A dream induced by a Goddess.
As she leaves the stage and mingles with the crowd, the people congratulate her, applaud her, give their respect. She accepts their compliments gracefully, dignified and aristocratic, like a true Queen.
By the end of the night, she'll take off her make up, her high-heeled shoes and her sparkling, silver-and-black evening gown. She'll remove the fabulous, long raven hair and the prominent chest that attracted the men's eyes all evening.
She will wake up in the morning, no longer a regal performer controlling the minds of men with her charisma. Just another player in the game of life.
She picks up the phone, and dials.
"Mac? It's Vic. I'll be late for work tomorrow."
