wall of windows

There is a place. A night spot, on the beach high above the water. I've seen it in my dreams. The wall of glass faces west toward the sun's setting glow. As seagulls fly in cryptic circles, the warm ocean silently pounds far below. It's a late Friday afternoon at the End of a long hectic week. It's time to exhale.

Smooth and sexy jazz plays as we walk in at the end of a long week. We are greeted by one who knows us by name. We've been here before.

"It's good to see you again," he says, calling us by name. "It's been a couple of weeks. Let me show you to your table."

Her flimsy black mini-dress fits her body to a 'T.' A wave of silence grows in the place with each of her steps. Her face, her lips, her hair, her hips... wrapped in a complimentary dress... ends idle chat as we pass. Men turn to take in the spectacular view.

He moves with her, noticing while not noticing... a lion in his prime with his mate.

As they reach their table by the wall of windows, Gerald, our host, adjusts her chair.

.... to be continued...