“Roxanne” she said as she slowly extended her gloved hand out to the gentleman standing before her. “But my friends call me Roxy for short.” And with that, she swirled away, captivating him just like many others that came before.
I let out a long sigh as I stopped writing and sat at my desk, furiously clicking the top of my ball- point pen. Crossing out everything I had just written down, I thought to myself: this is not going as planned.
I lay the pen on the windowsill, leaned my head against the wall, and –sigh– looked out the window as the bleak landscape stared back at me. Laughing at me. Taunting me.
Roxy ,Roxy, Roxy. What to do with you?
Frustrated and drawing my knees up to my chest, I knew that my writing was getting worse. My deadline to introduce Roxy to my readers was next week and I was still stuck on chapter 5. I decided to shut down for the night and head to bed, hoping that a good night’s rest would help me clear my mind.
Roxy, on the other hand, definitely had other plans.
I had trouble sleeping and at one point in the night I awoke with a start, catching a whiff of musty cigarette smoke as it filtering into my bedroom. Disoriented, I fumbled around in the dark, trying to find the light switch so I could see where the smell was coming from.
“Damn it” I groaned, the power’s off again.
Clutching the railing and making my way softly down the stairs, I heard soft music coming from the kitchen. As I approached the bottom stair, I could see a faint, flickering light coming from the kitchen doorway. Mustering up all of my courage, I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Looking for these?” I heard Roxy softly chuckle as she sat crossed legged on the counter, her slender legs hanging over the side. Red nail polish glinted in the candlelight, vividly contrasting alongside the solid white background of the matchbox. As she lit another candle next to her, I closed my eyes and silently begged myself to wake up from this dream.
Reopening my eyes, I saw her strike another match. With one swift move she picked up the lone cigarette that was sitting on the counter, lit it, and looked over at me as she slowly took her first drag.
What is going on? I closed my eyes again, but not for long- my curiosity was starting to get the best of me. As I opened my eyes for the second time, a thin line of smoke rose leisurely from her scarlet lips. Still here, she smirked in response to my silent question. Raising the smoldering cigarette back to her lips, she cooed at me in that soft voice of hers “you asked for it doll.”
I stood in disbelief as my fictional diva sat in front of me. Suddenly, I heard the click of the power turning back on, and I gasped as Roxy was illuminated by my kitchen lights.
She was everything I had written down on paper and so much more. Midnight black curls framed her glowing complexion. Perfectly thin, arched eyebrows. Her deep green eyes were surrounded by flawlessly etched black eyeliner. Her thick, heavy black lashes echoed against the dark sparkling eye shadow that canvassed her upper lids. Her rosy cheeks glowed as I continued to stare in awe. She was drop dead gorgeous.
A red sequence dress hung loosely from two tiny bands that looped over her small shoulders. Stopping an inch above the knee, her dress mirrored the same crimson tint that dripped from her lips, and that now outlined the cigarette that was slowly dying in the delicate glass ashtray next to her. Instead of embellishing herself in jewels, her unadorned skin only accentuated the dress she had on.
I looked down at my flannel pajamas, becoming increasingly aware of how pitiful I looked. Before I could loathe myself any longer, I heard Roxy’s voice again.
“Time for a show” she purred as she winked at me and gracefully slid off the counter. As her six inch black stilettos hit the hardwood floor, the kitchen transformed around me into an upscale, high society jazz club.
I could feel her silently willing me to follow her but I remained rooted in the doorway, feeling helplessly out of place in what used to be my own kitchen.
As she walked up to a couple standing near the bar, I could sense her telling me watch and learn. The woman began to sneer at her approach, obviously intimidated.The man extended out his hand, leaving his date at the bar. Taking it, Roxy leaned in and kissed him, leaving an outline of her lips on his blushing cheek. She whispered in his ear “Roxy- and the pleasures all mine.”
Fuming and embarrassed, the man’s date stormed away. Enthralled by Roxy and continuing to gawk, he didn’t notice his date leave. He finally worked up the courage to ask Roxy to dance, but she flirtatiously declined, sauntering over to her next victim. After a few minutes, Roxy turned back towards me and winked before making her way to the stage. I could hear her laughing in my head as music began to play.
I jumped awake as the loud music of my alarm clock startled me from across the room. Grogginess quickly overtook me as I began to remember small details of my strange dream. I rose out of bed and shuffled downstairs to grab a cup of coffee. As the smell of brewing coffee filled the room, so to did the lingering odor of perfume and cigarettes from the night before.
Forgetting all about my cup of coffee, I sprinted back up the stairs to my desk and began writing feverishly. Roxy had shown me the way she wanted to be introduced. She was the push I needed.