Bar Girls

A Poem by Amandine Grace

She was obnoxious.

She was selfish and she was easy.

Her honeysuckle legs dangled over him, inviting him, teasing him.

Her crimson heels clung to her feet as she wildly flicked her feet to the erratic beat of the music and the golden liquid in her glass lapped dangerously at the sides, threatening to spill on her white sun dress.

She was out of place in the backstreet bad boy biker bar; her wide eyes and cherry lips were a beacon in the haze of smoke, her sweet floral scent cutting through the manly odour going straight to his head.

Christ, she was a b***h.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and she wasn't going to leave without one highly intoxicated man; the type she could swindle and stitch to do anything for her.

Her eyes danced over every burly man in there, smiling seductively, delivering her delicious poison in once devious glance.