Ice was seated at a table in the club. He was drinking a neat Scotch, just watching the scene, after a day of business. The club was part of the hotel he was staying in, and he was taking a break. It had been a successful, but long and tiring day.
He watched the comings and goings with a detached eye. He was unattached, but was just relaxing.
Then the Firestorm walked in. Well, walked isn’t really accurate, she came in briskly on high heels. She seemed as though she was angry and had a bad day. It was Friday and she seemed to know the bartender, who was also a woman.
She was dressed in a flaming red skirt with a black leather belt, black stockings and black shoes. Her hair was black she was short with dark skinned. As this was Tucson, Ice assumed she was Mexican.
Several guys interrupted her asking her to dance. One grabbed her wrist, making her deftly with the other hand flinging the drink in his face and snapping, “You can buy me another one and move on!”
“Buy the lady another drink or I’ll have the guys at the door fling you out!”
Ice saw this immediately and was intrigued. He went up to the bar, pushed his way in and paid for the drink before the other man could respond.
“You were lucky,” bartender snarled, Now get lost!”
Fire looked up at Ice. Where did YOU come from?
“Back there,” he pointed to his now empty seat. “Would you like to dance?”
“With you, anytime.”
They then lit up the floor, Fire and Ice as people made room for him.
Would she melt him or will he put out her fire? You decide.