'What time was it he thought', as he looked around the bar. Everywhere there was movement; so much movement by the mob. Leather and lace flowed with the hypnotic rythem of the beat. Women glistened, their hair slicked to their brows. Each heave causing their breasts to swell. This was such a mortal time; such heat and blood.
He sipped lethargically at his martini; the bite of the gin causing a momentary lapse of thought. Had it been Berlin or London when he had first sampled this very concoction. No matter. The sights of the eternal night surrounded him and yet he saw not a soul. Spinning slowly and raising his hand to the barkeep he signaled for the bill. It was then that he noticed her. Not young but certainly not as old as he. She sat motionless, a ghost he believed at first but then she lifted what looked to be a Lambrusco. He stood transfixed, his eyes darted as her ruby lips closed and teased the liquid. How many times had he drunk ever so slightly from his own vintage.
He smiled at the thought; which brought a slow meek smile to the womans face. Her eyes dipped only for a moment as his heart stirred for the first time in many years. 'What were these feelings?' he thought as he fidgeted with his gold cufflinks. (cont.)
