The rain fell heavily on the cold, dark October evening. Every drop pinging against the large plate glass window in a rhythmic pattern. It seemed like everyone was at home trying to avoid the biting, angry night. Yet, some birds must fly.

The old 30’s style bar was on the edge of the city. Only regulars and old timers went there, with the exception of the crowd brought in by the few talented lounge acts that graced the stage time and again. The floor was hardwood, splintered by time, but refinished with epoxy resin to smooth out the clean strides of modern shoes. The original tin plate ceiling hung perfectly, but brandishing heavy patina. It was a step back in time.

At the bar sat a woman. A beautiful woman with long dark hair that ran past her shoulder blades and slightly curled with a shine, even in the dim lighting. Her features were sharp, and her eyes were piercing blue that seemed to look deep into your soul. Her skin was silky smooth and pale, almost milky. It contrasted the dress she wore, a rose red, that came down to just above her knees. Her legs seem to go on forever. On her dainty feet were a pair of expensive designer shoes matching the color of the dress. She wore little make up. Some eye shadow, rouge, and bright red lipstick that left a gently print in her martini glass.

She sat there sitting poised, classy, statuesque. Then a little bell rings above the door as it opens. The hard rain is loud as the door is opened for a moment. As the door closes, the bell rings again. A man takes off his overcoat and hat and places them on the old wooden rack. He walks over to the bar and sits down at the bar a few stools down from the woman.

“Usual Tom?”, says the bartender.

“Can you make a double tonight Bruce?”.

“Hard day Tom?”.

“Just one of those days Bruce. Just one of those days.”.

The Bartender pours the drink and puts it in front of Tom. He takes a sip and look back at the bar, but looks at the woman though the mirror covering the back of the wall. The woman take a silver case out of her small bag. She opens it and takes out a cigarette. She turns to Tom and in a soft and sensual voice asks, “you got a light...Tom?”.

Tom reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of matches and lights a match with a Thwewwww. The flame makes her beautiful face glow like an angel in the flames light. His heart starts to beat faster uncontrollably. As he puts the match pack back into his pocket, she notices it says THE ST. VINCENT. She knows the place. It the most costly hotel in the city.

“Thanks Sweetheart”, she says.

“Sweetheart?”, I don’t even know your name. He smiles. He is very handsome with chiseled features, but not unapproachably. It is obvious that he has a strong and hard body. His hands look strong, like hardened almost. He has dark chestnut eyes that have such complexity, you could get lost while staring in them.

“Charisse. My name is Charisse.” As Tom slides down beside her, he takes her dwarfing hand in his.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Charisse.”.

“The pleasure is mine Tom.”.

Something happens in that moment. They don’t understand what it is. But, they know it is...like a single star on the darkest night.

They spend two hours getting to know each other over drinks. They laugh, they flirt, and finally, Charisse places her hand on his inner thigh. Silence.

“I like you. I don’t want to scare you away. But, do you want to go back to your place?” Charisse asks with a sexy smile.

“I would love to!”, Tom says.

To be continued.....