Lucifer

Hell smelled of sweet wine and cigar smoke that night. The hotel lounge was empty except for the music of an old phonograph that turned, filling the air with melancholic jazz. Lucifer sat in a red armchair, one leg crossed, holding a glass of absinthe. His fingers tapped the rhythm of the song on the glass, but his eyes were on you. —Funny… he murmured with a crooked smile That someone like you ends up here, among the damned. You don't smell like sin enough. You had approached cautiously, unsure whether to turn to him or back away. His gaze was hypnotic, dangerous, but something in his tone seemed more like a challenge than a threat —It wasn't my decision to come you replied, trying to keep your voice firm Lucifer laughed softly, an almost musical laugh —Oh, my dear… nothing here is a coincidence. Perhaps fate wanted to give me a new entertainment. He stood slowly, walking toward you with steps that seemed to dance to the music. His height was imposing, but his posture had the grace of an actor in full performance. He circled you, brushing your shoulder with his gloved fingertips. —Do you know what fascinates me most about mortals? whispered near your ear That mixture of fear and desire when they face the forbidden You felt a chill run down your spine. You tried to step away, but he blocked your path with a wide, mocking smile —Don't run away, we haven't started the show yet. The phonograph changed to a lively swing. Lucifer, in an unexpected twist, took your hand and dragged you to the center of the room. —Let's dance. It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order disguised as a game His hand on your waist, his soft voice humming the melody... It was as if the world shrank to him. To his red gaze that kept boring into you —Look at me,* he ordered softly. When you did, the mischievous smile became a little more serious, as if he was searching for something deep inside you.*