She had no greater wish then to move like smoke. Elegant, flowing, ethereal...ever present but quickly dispersing into the air. Smoke that lingers only in sense memory, caught in your hair right before you shower. The kind of smoke that only appears in a good film noir.

He sat across from her and watched the smoke from her smoldering cigar play in the faint candle light. He had no idea why he was attracted to her. She didn’t make much sense to him. She was whimsical and serious all at the same time. He could never quite read her. She was like the Sunday LA times crossword puzzle; long elaborate and quite impossible to figure out. But if one put forth the time and effort they would feel rewarded by their sheer accomplishment. All metaphors aside he knew one thing that she excited him.

She was like trying to hold mercury in his hand. You had to have the perfect grasp on her otherwise if you were too tight she’d slip right out of you reach. And if you didn’t hang on to her she just slid right off you hand. The only problem with finally figuring out how to keep her around was that she like mercury wasn’t exactly good for your health. You could keep her around but she needed to be encased in a thin glass tube, meant for one to only look and never touch.

She tapped her cigar lightly against her fingers to ash the growing cherry. She knew he was looking at her but wasn't quite sure if she enjoyed his gaze. Instead of focusing on the intensity at which he watched her she let her mind give into the general buzz of life in the room. She could feel the pulse of the piano. The tingle of the white and black keys mixed with the peaceful swaying of the room. She only ever relayed on her feelings. Unlike, the look he gave her she was sure of this energy. Men's glances made her nervous and always put her ill at ease. But, she could feel this energy, this heart beat of the music taking over her mind. It was a bit like being intoxicated. She loved every minute of it. The bittersweet echo of the piano and white noise of the general group around her. Here is were she felt alive and lazy all together. Just like a lionesses, patiently switching her tail from left to right. Watching everyone and playing out different scenarios in her mind. Calculating everyone’s next move. She loved the intoxicated feeling of it all. She was one of the few great watchers left in the world.

With a lull of her head to the side she made eye contact with him. He had one of those gazes like a combination lock, once you reached a certain number you can't go any further. You locked eyes with him and you'd better like number the 23 because you were going to be there for awhile. This was a bad equation for her, she wasn't the type of woman to be controlled by a man. In fact she tended to run from them. Normally, men would be more than happy to let her run. They always assumed she'd come back.

"It's gone out.", his voice seemed to shatter the smokey coma that she was entranced by as he pointed to her extinguished cigar.

"It appears you are correct." She almost murmured under her breath.

"Would you care for a light? Perhaps another gin and tonic? Or we could pick up where we were before we left the office.", the glint in his eyes was almost enough to make her smile. Almost enough.

"No, I think I am done for the evening.", the tone in her voice slightly short, "I very seldom mix business with pleasure and tonight I feel as if we have almost gone a bit too far."

"I don't understand how a woman of your means. One who enjoys many of the finer things in life could be so adverse to pleasure.", he mused.

He had laid his ace rather earlier in the evening. There he was twenty three staring her in the face and she couldn't get passed him. The only way she'd get around him was to back track a bit.

"I don't think our business together should have anything to do with pleasure.", her voice was bordering on

"You should know by now if you want to get anywhere in life you have to be willing to make plenty of sacrifices." he spoke.

With a smirk she took out her matches and picked up the remains of her cigar. He was faster than she was and she didn't like that. As he struck the match and helped her light her cigar she could see his features in the soft bright hot light radiating from the match head.

He had a soft olive skin, probably of Mediterranean descent. His big brown eyes gazed into her green ones with an intensity that startled her. He had a lazy beauty about him.

Or at least somewhere in her subconscious was the ever present concept of this charade that they were playing. This farce of this veiled intimacy she knew all to well. It was as if a sheet had been lain across her eyes and all she could feel

His hand lightly grazed the top of hers as he set her matches back on the table. That same glint in his eyes that had almost persuaded a smile before managed
With that smile she knew what she had to do.
"Pardon me for a moment, I would like to visit the ladies room.", She grabbed her purse and quickened her steps to seek refuge in a place where it was forbidden for men to go. She had to seek some solace even if it was just mental.

He figured she would come back. She had to come back. No woman ever really turned him down. But, what he didn't figure into the equation was the tiny droplets of blood on the floor of the woman's restroom. The glass in the window had been easy enough to shatter with her hands the jump had taken a fair greater reserve of courage.

She was suddenly startled by the sound of a waiter dropping his tray an a cascade of wine glasses shattering on the floor. The same waiter embarrassed by his actions tripped and sent the contents of the couples table to the floor. The waiter's profuse apologies were droned out by the sound of the couples laughter. The man smiled at the woman and the two came to a silent decision together.