It was September 7th, 1920, when I met her. I stepped into the night club, I breathed in the heavy smell of cigar smoke and cheap liquor, sighing contentedly, as I sat down at my usual spot at the corner of the bar. As I ordered my drink, I spotted a couple across the club. The woman was absolutely beautiful in her long, red gown, in which her skin shown like moonlight, her black hair cascading down her shoulders. They completely fascinated me as they spoke intimately with each other, and I watched as she laughed at something he’d just said.
The band was warming up when the waiter served me my drink, and I found myself searching for the woman I’d heard about who was supposed to sing here. Unfortunately, for the life of me I couldn’t remember her name.
As the announcer introduced this mysterious women by the name of Billie Holiday, I watched with no surprise as this raven haired beauty vacated her seat, and sashayed her way up to the stage. As the band started up and she started singing in her lovely voice, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the music.
As the first strains of a love song started to play, I opened my eyes, seeing the men dancing with their girlfriends, the haze of smoke hanging over the crowd. I noticed Ms. Holiday staring intently at the man she had been talking to in the corner earlier that night, as she sang the song. The look on her face told me that she was utterly in love with him, and wondering if he felt the same, I studied his face to see that the expression on it mirrored Ms. Holiday’s exactly.
Fervently I hoped that their love would last forever, but cynically I knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. They might end up hating each other, or they would be separated, probably never to see each other again.
“Do you think it will last?” said a voice at my elbow, startling me so badly, I almost fell off the bar stool I’d been sitting on. As soon as I steadied myself on the stool (which wasn‘t easy, since by that time I was very well drunk), I looked around to see a beautiful brunette sitting beside me. She was wearing the proverbial little black dress, her hair in an up do my mother would be proud of, her cat green eyes looking at me with a fire in them.
I smiled, drunk on the music as well as the liquor. “It might. Who knows? Would you like to dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled sensually, taking my hand as we swept off onto the dance floor.
Little did I know, that that night, I’d found the love of my life in a place I never thought possible.
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