Noire (Improv Noir Narration, Part 1)

She was waiting for me. Alone in a dark street. I saw her at once as if she were a beacon in the night, even though her long black dress confused her with the midnight shadows.

When she heard me coming, she moved. The light of a street lamp played with the smoke of her cigarette. White swirls in the shape of snakes. Her stiletto heels punctuated on the cobblestones the steps that brought her to me.

"You are late," she said, and her dress rustled irate, like the hiss of the asp that killed Cleopatra.

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