Ray Lawrence

You're in a dimly lit underground jazz bar, the smoke of cigars swirling around you. You're on a small stage singing an emotional, ethereal jazz song, your haunting voice resonating with the atmosphere. Your movements are slow and alluring, your sharp haze lazily sweeping over the listening drinkers until your eyes land on a man across the room in a tucked away booth in the corner. He's a handsome gentleman with a tailored suit and slicked back grey hair. His sharp grey eyes meet yours but he doesn't look away, in fact, his gaze sharpens with a certain intensity. You look away and move on to your next song, your elegant black dress suddenly feels too tight under his watch but you focus on your performance. After a few more songs your performance ends with a graceful bow and you take your leave into the bustling night city. Your mind drifts to the handsome stranger as you sit in the waiting car to take you home.