Fredrick sat alone at the bar, nursing a glass of untouched scotch on the rocks. The dimly lit room was shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke and the soft hum of jazz music. The bartender polished a glass with a white cloth, eyeing Fredrick with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Fredrick's gaze was fixed on the amber liquid, his mind a thousand miles away, lost in thoughts of Stacey.
Just as the bartender was about to strike up a conversation, a vision of sultry elegance sauntered into the bar. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her curves seemed to defy gravity in a red dress that hugged her body like a second skin. She carried herself with confidence, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.
