Her gaze was cutting and sharp. Breaking eye contact only to sip her wine, she fixated on me again. A part of me was certainly in that glass.
It was relaxed here, a slice of freedom in a world where I needed to be flattered by a man’s attention. In a dimly lit Manhattan apartment on Saturday night, a dark-haired and intense beauty could size me up. No need to misconstrue. She was interested. Someone passed behind me and she gently tugged me closer by the lapel.
“Thanks. Near fatal collision there,” I said.
“Undoubtedly.”
We had discussed respectability politics and the meaning of “good” behavior as members of our chat group slowly fell away, striking up fits of laughter in far more entertaining conversation. Now we came to the strangely intimate part where a stranger lets you into that polished exterior.
“I’m just looking for someone who is going to add to my life. I have tried, and continue to try, so hard to be who I hoped I’d become.”
I nodded in complete agreement as we inched closer still.
The smell of a braised beef and buttered potatoes wafted strongly into the air as the hostess set down a large platter amidst cheers.
“Dig in, babes!”
We both turned to see a long line forming. Her heat brushed against my bare arm, warming and cooling me almost simultaneously. Maybe when less people are there, we were both probably thinking. Surely we could talk for moments more. We shifted to proper colors for accent walls and vacations to die for. Closer still. There was a faint freckle at the left side of her mouth which I pointed out. A few jokes in and she was laughing now, touching my shoulder and leaning in to whisper her delight.
I was hungry now. For more than just braised beef.
“Hey Joanne!” a voice called as greedy hands encroached.
“Sorry, I — -” she said, reaching for one last touch that just barely grazed my open hand.
In almost an instant, she was whisked from my orbit and crisp winter air floated in through the window as steam rising to meet me.
Her heat was gone and the room was all the more dark.