-Distracted

[Words to Image]

Lydia belonged to the underworld. Not death, a criminal organization in south Bronx. She dressed the part that got attention. From her coal black hair, uplifted and crazy with red highlights to the pale white makeup and darkened eyes and lips, she easily received lots of attention. When she walked into a room, all eyes landed on her. She could command an audience without saying a single word. Everybody wanted to know her and discover what she was all about. A porcelain distraction opened doors for many reasons. If one was wanting to "relieve" somebody of something, a dainty little gothic doll would do the trick.

"Perhaps I will have a drink."

Watch the gentleman line up.

"I must say, this dress compliments your eyes and complexion, outstandingly. And the cleavage, wow girl, better roll out the fire hose. Save a guy or two for me, will you?"

She knew how to work the ladies, as well. Male, female, young and old, nobody was safe from her allure. Those who paid for her skills paid her well. She was known as The Reader within her immediate circles because she had the ability to read any room and charm the masses. No one ever called her by her real. Most never knew it. The greatest thing Lydia had actually stolen, herself, was countless hearts. She pocketed her pay and left the sleight of hand shopping to the others. She brought the scene; others cleaned the house.

One day, her task was to work the room at an uptown charity event. The ladies were formal, the gentleman were bragging amongst themselves, four chardonnays down, trying to not spill it on their suits. Easy pickings. Patrons flocked to her in droves, impressed and trying to impress. One gentleman stood behind the others and followed her movements as she slithered throughout the crowd. Her eyes met his, but she ignored them, as she does when her performance is in play. By happenstance, they met again. She noticed his wasn't fixated on her to the flavor of captive but more so of a perched hawk, high above the ground, watching and waiting, knowing very well what her moves were for. Once again, she brushed it off.

Eventually, when the gap of blind mice separated some, and she caught his gaze again, she stopped and stared. Who was this mysterious man? Was he onto her? Was he part of the detail that swept the room by her distraction? He seemed to be none of these. She was confused but not overly concerned.

He began to approach her. Many do but she always anticipates this, rules of the job. But this gentleman had already set an unfamiliar tone. He did not rush in, as did every other horny Joe or need to have ego stroked Nancy. He appeared calculated and timed. For the first time in years, Lydia was the one caught in a web.

His sauntering approach ended a mere two feet away from her. He stood motionless and maintained a quiet smile. He shifted his gaze from one of her eyes to the other. If he hadn't spoken first, she might very well have remained silent the rest of the night. This was the power he had so easily snared her with. He opened his mouth to speak and she eagerly leaned in to accept it, hanging from his cliff of suspense. But then he pulled back, closing his lips. Lydia screamed inside, uneasy with this type of control he had over her.

She heard a nearby remark about her 'mesmerizing beauty.' The stranger did, as well. His smiled increased and he nodded to her, insinuating he agreed. But said nothing. Until he did.

"You are easily the most interesting person in this room."

Not the typical response she was used to. Similar, but packaged in questionable box. She smiled.

"And you ... you, completely have my attention. And I'm not sure why. How did you do that?"

The stranger smiled even bigger, sheepishly. He lowered his head and then gazed back at her.

"Well, when you give someone something they want, but they do not realize exactly why they are receiving it, you own their attention. And then you can do with it whatever you wish."

He paused for a moment.

"But you already know this, don't you?"

Lydia's job was to distract. And now she was the target.

"So, tell me, exactly when did you realize that you were hanging onto my every word?" he asked her. "Waiting to see what I would say next?"

"You're every word? But you haven't said that many to me?"

"Hadn't I? I've said lots. Perhaps you were drawn in and you didn't realize you were."

Lydia wanted to speak but didn't.

"I know who you are, Reader."

Again, she wanted to speak but thought it best to not uncover her truth. She simply stared through his bluff. Or so she was hoping it was.

"So, tell me, Reader, exactly ... when ... did you realize that you were hanging onto my every word?" he asked her again. "Waiting to see what I would say next?"

At this moment, Lydia realized what he meant.

[This was a long write. If you have made it this far then you have hung onto my every word, curious to see what I would say next. Thank you, reader. Perhaps you should check for missing items.]