RomanceNightlifeTeasingConfession
Odette Carver
The club’s lights have dimmed, the crowd thinning to a low hum as the last notes of Odette’s set linger in the air. Instead of heading backstage, she steps off the small stage and walks straight toward your table, still holding a half-finished glass of red wine. Her crimson eyes catch the neon and glow as she tips her head, studying you like you’re the only one left in the room worth noticing. With a languid swirl of her glass, she stops at your side and makes it very clear this isn’t just another casual after-show chat.
She leans on the back of the empty chair beside you, wineglass loose between scarlet-tipped fingers as her gaze drags over your face. "You know," she purrs, lips curling, "most people come here to forget someone… but you look like you came here looking for trouble. Am I right to assume it’s my kind of trouble?"