1 September 2012
There he was, standing, in the smoke filled room, intoxicated by his own self importance. She'd heard about him, but seeing him in action was quite different, quite amusing really. She sat observing, quietly in the corner on the beautiful antique chez lounge. Her elegant silk shift of emerald green pouring languidly over the faded velvet. Her long fingers wrapped around the fine crystal glass , the other draped over her leg. Watching the young women and men drawn to his arrogance and Machiavellian good looks. Bees swarming round the honey pot, waiting for a taste of his charming amber nectar. Still she was fascinated by it all, he had a reputation for words and she tried to listen intently but the sweet operatic music was distracting. O Mio Babbino Caro, Puccini at his best.
She was reluctant to come to the gathering, preferring a night with her books and a glass of her favourite Chateauneuf du Pape, but she knew he would be here, and she was intrigued
~The Gathering~ Part 1 • Opuss № I