Beneath the jingling of the door's hanging bell, Brad walked in without a clue. His grey blazer was disheveled and his hair wet from the downpour just outside. He could smell the drying herbs tied with homemade rope against the right wall, covering a cracked mural of an ancient village. The smell made him feel homesick.
"Hello, welcome in. Just one?"
He eyed the underaged hostess, whose cheerful voice put his teeth on edge. "Yes, somewhere out of the way, please."
In truth, just about everything set him on edge from his obligations to his hobbies. He was alone in a new, large, uncaring city without an escape. Everything was traffic and buzzing noise, and his personal relationships struggled for it -- the handful that he still had.
"Alright, this way." He followed through the weaving tables, lain out like a labyrinth of slurping consumers. Despite it all, the smell in the air was wonderfully potent with the rich sauce and fragrant wine mixing into temptation. The short hostess finally stopped and waved him to the rounded end of a dark corner booth. Where she stood, the hostess blocked the view of Brad's closest neighbor. All he could see was a lit cigarette held between two golden brown fingers. "Here we are."
"Thank you," he said while sidling his way into the corner across the green velvet seat cover. He took a menu before she silently departed. He flipped the one-page menu several times before his eyes followed a line of waving smoke back to his neighbor's face.
He felt his heart skip a beat as he took in her beauty. Her long black hair framed her Hispanic face with sharp, kempt eyebrows above emerald green eyes that were reading a thick fantasy novel. Her lips were moist beneath the light in a natural light pink tone. Even the cigarette seemed sensual as the filter penetrated against her teeth for a light, quiet inhale.
Brad's head noticeably shook to break his stare. One hand went down to readjust his business slacks, which were tightening more every second. He inhaled through his nose, thinking the herbs would help him focus. Instead, he only smelled smoke from the mysterious woman.
"What's your type, hm?"
He looked over to the woman, whose voice surprised him with its depth. She was looking towards him gently with eyes like a predator. She took one last drag on her cigarette before stamping it out, nodding to the menu with a smile. "Of wine? You can tell a lot about a man from the type of wine he drinks."
Her accent was unfairly attractive, underlining her every syllable with Central American lineage but not obscuring the sultry tones. "I'm, uh, I'm a sauvignon blanc lover."
"Oh, you like sweet and exotic," she said while picking up her own red wine, swirling it as it comes to her nose. "During these busy times, it could be a while before you receive your drink. Would you like to try mine?"
He could only nod with a goofy smile, letting his fingers run across hers as she passed along the chalice. A quick taste later, he couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted something so sweet. "I haven't had a good wine in a long time. Do you, uh, come here often?"
He offered her the cup back but she shook her head gently. "I do, to read mostly. To transport myself somewhere far less gloomy."
