Her voice echoed, mellow and sweet, through the buzzing air of the lounge, silencing everyone at the first note. The fabric of her red chiffon dress curved and contoured to her tall, slender body and her long diamond earrings swayed with every slight movement of her head, twinkling like stars in the spotlight. Her hair was slicked back into a clean, black ponytail, showing off every inch of her dark, caramel skin.
A lovely dream she was–what a lovely dream of a woman, a muse.
Every person in the lounge sat, stupefied, stunned, staring and ogling at the dame in pure awe. The vibrations and fluttery inflections of her crisp voice sent shivers down everyone’s spines, over everyone’s skin. Her eyes remained squeezed shut in passion and hypnotism with the song she delivered.
Her lyrics were expressive and mesmerizing, visions of love and a romance in the cold, dead of winter swirling and surrounding the heads of her listeners, all helpless to the tune of the song. The trumpeter complemented her as though the instrument was his own voice, serenading, proclaiming his love for her from the street up to her balcony for her to sway to and fro along with his melody.
The only other sound in the expansive room was the occasional jingle on the door and the bead curtains clacking together every time someone came in from another room but never for a second did she lose focus.
She stood so powerful, so confident and sure of every sound, every movement she made, an idol for everyone with or without dreams to be like her. She was a most beautiful being, almost goddess-like.
And at the close of the number, her intimidating visage of unbeatable focus and concentration dropped, revealing a mortal side to her, her breaths catching, as a human smile stretched her tinted red lips into a charming grin of pure pleasure.