Joe was just your ordinary Joe, working a day job to pay for his nightly activities. His evening excursions took him from his daily life which was quite dull, to exploring the exciting venues of the night.
One such evening, Joe happened upon an establishment of ill repute, just what Joe was looking for. As he approached the bar, he was greeted by several different women, but Joe was looking for something unusual. He passed by the women for a few steps and then spied the treasure he had anticipated.
There she sat, haphazardly sideways on a bar stool, one leg bent, foot resting on the bar’s bottom rail, the other purposely splayed to the side, emerging from the split in her tight skirt. She gave Joe a sideways glance, and a slow widening smile. She knew what would please him, just another man, another victim in her sight.
Joe returned the smile, and sat on the barstool next to the red haired woman. His favorite color of hair he thought, blondes were too flighty and raven hair was just plain wicked. She grasped his arm and asked if she could buy him a drink.
He smiled bigger and felt his body respond to her touch. It was a surprise to him, since he didn’t have that immediate reaction to the other women he’d visited here. Joe ended up following her up to a shoddy small room, darkened by red and black furnishings. She sank down on the bed, inviting him close. After a few drinks of unknown origin, Joe woke up to find he couldn’t see, or hear, even swallow.
He felt around for the woman, but felt nothing. He raised his hands to rub his eyes. His head was missing. Joe had been doomed the minute he walked in to find the red haired woman. The only thing left was a stone facade of his head, along with others who suffered the same fate.
https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/07/28/sunday-photo-fiction-july-29-2018/
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