TEMPTRESS

PANDEMONIUM

A few hours had past. And I managed to visit most of the bars on the streets lively strip. The night sky was clear now, only stars and moon light illuminating the narrow passageways and alleys where people milled around. The aroma of hot food and spices coming from small kiosks and stands intermingled with the rich scent of alcohol wafting from the numerous bars and clubs. It didn't matter how late it had gotten, loud music reverberated, bass lines still thudding against the buildings as people danced together, their feet rhythmically striking the floorboards beneath them. As I sipped my colourful drink from a bubble tea cart, I heard a groggy voice behind me.

"Excuse me miss," I turned to see a gentleman approached me, his friends following suit. Looking like he had one too many drinks already. The man appeared to be older than me, mid to late thirties maybe. The smell of alcohol reached my face, I swallowed down my gag in response. Fucking foul. "You look a little lonely" he started "mind if we join you" he raises his brow and shines his teeth, yellowed from cigarette usage.

I hesistate a reply just as a strange movement plays in my peripheral. "Um-" I begin, glancing over instinctively. What I see strikes even more anxiety into me. Through the crowd, off into the distance, that same dark shadowed man stood further down the street. Watching me yet again. My heart drops. This time the light shines over his features. But only just. He looks pissed, staring at the men. Once he notices me staring back, our eyes lock together. Did he fucking follow me? No he couldn't have, he disappeared after I locked my gate. It was probably just a coincidence. But the fact remained. There he was, standing in the distance once again, watching me. Once his gaze directly met with mine it sent chills rippling through my body. My thoughts raced wildly.

The drunk man glanced over towards the crowd of people, as if to see what I was staring at. After seemingly seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he glances back to me. "Er-hem" his murmer breaks my thought. I stare back to him "sorry- I'm alright thank you". His eyes dropped at my reply, obviously agitated. Yet he forces a smile anyway "another time". His smile doesn't meet his eyes, giving him a sinister look. I nod, drink in hand I turn to walk away, I feel the drunk mans eyes feast on my ass. I sigh, digusted by the encounter. But not before giving the street another glance, seeing that he's dissapeard again.

Just like he did earlier outside my building. I glance around frantically, hoping he hasn't gotten closer to me in some way. I feel like prey being stalked by a primal hunter. The thought sickens me and twists my insides with anxiety. Despite being surrounded by people. I couldn't help feeling isolated amidst the revelry. Intrigued and frightened by the peculiar stranger that followed me. Who could possibly want to watch someone they don't know? With such unnerving intent?

Shaking these doubts aside, I tried focusing on enjoying my first weekend in New Orleans. Embracing the city's charm and culture, indulging in its unique flavours and experiences. Drowning my unease in the excitement and liveliness around me. But despite that, an eerie feeling still loomed over me. And so, I continue walking along the boulevards. Each step taken, the weight of those haunting eyes becomes heavier. The faint sound of saxophones lingers in the air, filling spaces in between conversation.

Intoxicated men and women share stories of love lost and found, their voices rising above the melody, mixing with it seamlessly. Street artists paint pictures of jazz musicians, brush strokes quickening with each beat. Bands of all sizes play songs dedicated to New Orleans' legendary history. All the while, the persistent whispers of uncertainty fill my ears.

Those eyes flashing continuously in my mind. The image of his figure standing there haunting my thoughts. His features hidden under the darkness of the night, I've only seen his eyes, yet somehow they left a lasting impression. I wondered why would he persistently trail me. It felt personal, almost predatory. Was he just some random creeper? Or something else entirely? Regardless, the situation gave me chills. Maybe he knew something about me...or perhaps he believed there was something valuable in my possession, though, considering my limited belongings, it wasn't likely.