One; choose your prey.
Easy. There he is across the bar, shining like a violet beacon in a sea of black. Wearing a white polo-shirt in a place like this says something about a man. For me, it says he wants to be eaten, devoured and spat out again. Happy to oblige.
Two; study your prey.
Stay hidden. Watch him jump from one girl to the next, testing his tired array of lines, touching the collar of his shirt, making sure it is still stiff, still lining his jaw; a confirmation that he is still the man.
Three; hone in.
Move towards the bar. Order a drink. Just sit for one, two, three seconds.
He materializes by the stool in less than a heartbeat. His beer breath only partially masked by the heavy cologne wafting out of the cotton threads.
‘Hey, beautiful,’ he hisses in what he thinks is an alluring tone.
Smile thinly. Look away.
‘You been here before?’
Catch his eye briefly. Battle with your lips; pretend you’re holding back a smile.
‘Ah! Don’t be shy! Let me buy you a drink, what are you having?’
Glance briefly at the glass and smile with your eyes.
‘Hey,you! Another of whatever she’s having…I’m Mike, by the way.’
Let your smile spread all the way. Whisper a name, any name; make it inaudible.
‘Say that again.’
Lean into him, let your cheeks brush briefly, accidentally. Sip at the drink, let your eyes meet over the glass, linger your gaze, look away suddenly as if shy.
‘Hey, beautiful, listen, what do you say if we get out of this noise…go for a walk some place quiet?’
Study your lap. Hide a smile. Pretend you’re considering.
Four; jump for the kill.
Meet his gaze, smile, nod; ‘I know a place. You’ll like it. No one will disturb us there.’
Stand. Walk. Don’t bother glancing back. He’ll be following; a willing victim trapped by lust. No guilt. No remorse. Let the animal out.
For Trifecta where the magic word this week is Animal: 3 : a human being considered chiefly as physical or nonrational; also : this nature