I dressed in my most alluring, tantalizing gown — a deep red taffeta item. Its intent was to lure the most sequacious of my followers. I speak of those who knew nothing of me but the colors I wore, the perfume that wafted from my dusky skin.
Ah, those fools, forever creeping after me, wanting something, yet forever too fearful to ask. Nor would it have mattered. Worthless chits.
I might add that the more sequacious they were, the more dull-witted they seemed. I was hot, but even my flame could be squelched by these dreary males. So instead, I sang for them.
I can still sing, though I am perhaps a bit long in the tooth for the torch songs of by earlier years.