The Enchanting One

Morris sat at the best seat at the bar. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in London, high end, dimly lit, decorated lavishly, the music - trance like, the best drinks and the finest cuisine.  He held an old fashioned in his hand, and was seated in the darkest part of the room; the arm with the drink resting on the edge of the bar, his legs crossed over as he leaned back against the chair giving him the best position to survey the room. He wore a perfectly fitted three-piece suit made of the finest wool. A bow necktie completed his affluent appearance, and his jacket hung open, showing the waistcoat beneath which was moulded perfectly against his broad chest.

Morris gently tapped his finger against the glass as he scanned the room and watched the girls walk past him.  The waitresses, the heiresses, the hostess, the girls who were here for a birthday meal and wouldn't be able to afford this place on a casual night out; the wives of the wealthy barristers and investment bankers; the girlfriends of the lawyers and the stockbrokers. He narrowed his eyes as he lifted the drink to his lips and took a gentle swig, never leaving his game of observing the women in front of him.  It was the perfect playground for his intended desires.

Morris was undeniably attractive, and oozed a kind of charm in silence that good looking people did even when they said nothing.  The intensity of his personality emanated through his posture and steely gaze. The women were helplessly drawn to the mysterious figure, who sat in the corner of the room, casually enjoying a solitary drink on a midweek day. Sometimes the women brushed past him as they went towards the rest rooms or if it were a waitress, she decided to take an extra turn around the room to get a closer look at the man.  He was sure they were trying to get his attention, by the sway of a hip as they went past, or from a gentle brush of their perfumed hair falling against his shoulder. He could smell the different fragrances lingering in the air as they sauntered near him.

He wasn't here for a one-night stand though. Morris was looking for something long lasting. Oh don't be mistaken, he enjoyed women more than the average man, and he could easily pick up a girl here tonight using his wily words and his syrupy charm, even if he hadn’t been looking as well turned out and immaculate as he did today.  He had a ‘special love’ for women as he called it.  He was fascinated by their curvaceous bodies, and their feminine allures, but more than that he absolutely lived for the moment when he knew that he had captured their minds, and he could see that they worshipped him, mind, body and soul.

A one-night stand would give him physical pleasure, but he was after something else right now.  He wanted a devotee, a woman whose mind would be all for himself.  It was when they needed him completely and obsessively that he felt invincible and at his most powerful. He felt potent and he was able to be at his most creative. It filtered into all areas of his life including his business and career which flourished from the woman’s admiration.

Morris needed women.

Yes.

But more than that Morris needed women to need him.

Period.

And so inevitably he was looking for the one. The One didn't need to be exactly what he wanted in a woman, but he was an expert in moulding them into whatever he desired.  Morris would train and educate her into the exact ideal that he craved. All he required to begin with was a woman who fitted his ideals of aesthetic beauty and her personality needed to be shy, gentle, flirtatious, generous; a woman with a loving heart and a true empath. Someone he could influence with ease, and tease into a fiery spark that could be bent only to his will and none others. His own personal fury. Once she was bent on pleasing him alone and filled with rage and jealousy against all others that he showed interest in, he would be triumphant in creating his ruthless demoness.

As Morris watched the girls, his lips curled into a snarl. Yes, there were so many here for ripe pickings, but half of these girls did not deserve his attention.  They were unworthy of him and if he even spared a glance at them, they should be eternally grateful. He only gave his best to a few people, his closest circle, towards the rest he went through the motions, bowing and smiling but they filled him with disgust and hatred. These were the plain, weak, ugly humans who lacked motivation and were unsuccessful people.

Most of the girls here would have sex with him if he offered one drink. A drink at this bar cost three times as much as in the rest of London and money could buy you any number of starved attention seekers. A lot of these girls were dressed so provocatively too. He watched as the wife of one man looked at him longingly as she went to the rest room. She had a bodycon dress which was so tight that her breasts were pouring out of them, and he observed the way she puffed out her chest to draw his attention to them. Disgusting.

He saw another girl looking at him over her drink, and tug the hem of her dress higher as she whispered something to her friend, and a third girl who sat on the other side of the bar, giggling liltingly at her friend, trying to draw his attention towards her.

Most of these girls were desperate for attention, and particularly his attention. A good-looking man was wanted by everyone, but with energy like Morris’s, he was undoubtedly magnetic. He was well-aware of the way people all swarmed around him like bees.

Morris scowled at this thought and asked for another drink. ‘Another old fashioned’, he told the bartender, raising his finger.

These girls were too easy and available. He wanted a pure-hearted girl. A pure soul, untouched by the vagaries of the world. She alone would be able to love him the way he wanted.  If he were the one who taught her how to love, his specific type of love, she would know nothing else. He would be all she knew of love. She would equate love with him, and her very soul would be bound to him.

The girls here were impure; they were broken, stupid and foolish. They were utterly beneath him. Broken souls desperate for a little bit of love. They had nothing to offer him. Damaged goods, the lot of them. They probably had their hearts broken several times, suffered material or emotional losses and never bounced back. They were empty shells of humans who were too weak to find strength by themselves. They would mean nothing to him. He could toy with them and pretend to love them for a night or a few weeks, even months, but then he would leave and let them return to their pathetic, loveless lives. He would tell them they were the one for him, be their sunshine and light and give them a glimpse of immortality with his superior presence, but as he left he would take his sunshine away and leave them to their nothingness.

They didn't deserve him.

He was too good for all of them in here.

But he would find her.

In these dark crowds in the streets of London, he would seek out a soul that was sincere and he would make her his. He would enchant her and elevate her with his presence in her life.