Not just a character, for he is a man too... A champagne flute touched his lips, a delicate slurp pulling the fine sparkling wine into his mouth. He offered the flute back down to the table, it's base touching gently onto the white tablecloth. As he rested the glass, the extension of his arm pulled the suit and shirt cuff up his forearm, allowing a view of the diamond watch on his wrist. It's heavily encrusted analogue face stared up, one hand facing a shining diamond in the two o' clock position, the other, shorter hand pointing around the nine o' clock mark. He withdrew his hand from the wine glass, the cuff sliding back down over the watch with an elegance not associated with inanimacy. He grasps a knife, holding it with his index finger extended along it's top side. All of this was unaccompanied by speech, the only aural pleasures came from a piano softly being tapped at, playing a relaxing piece of soft jazz. The knife cut into a lettuce leaf, it's blade slicing the papery vegetable with no difficulty. An open mouth, surrounded by a clean-shaven face awaited the lettuce. On the other side of the table, much more delicate hands controlled the cutlery. Fine, unwrinkled skin lay itself over a small and thin hand, a dark bronze colour glistening in the low-level candlelight. On her wrist, a silver bracelet, discreetly linked, reflected the light from the candle and the ceiling, dispersing it across a plate and the tablecloth. The hands assumed femininity. Their delicacy spelt out a lady in her early years of womanhood, they had not aged nor wrinkled with tire. Her skin was fresh, and her hands were beautiful. On her plate, salad was set aside, leaving the lady to enjoy her main plate, a well-prepared halibut, already neatly cut into, parts having been lifted from it's scaly shell. It seemed so sad that a sound other than that of the piano should break this immaculate silence. Both sets of knives and forks were lay down on their respective plates, a reverberating chime coming from the touch of silver upon porcelain. One hand was offered forward from each side of the table, their fingers entwining as the hands met in the middle of the table, besides the champagne flutes; one half empty, the other near full. With all ten fingers sensually interlocked, the palms of both hands facing down, the lady spoke softly, careful not to spoil the background of passion that approached from the piano. "Thank you", she said, her words not tarnishing the perfect setting. The moment remained as beautiful as ever, their eyes both gazing longingly into each others, looking far beyond their pupils, deep into the eyes. How two people could remain so quiet through an evening was evident of only one thing, passion. Words did not need to be uttered for each to know the others thoughts for they were feeling much deeper than that, "this is perfect." And such it was, perfect, for not a disturbance could be imaginable. The whole moment had taken just seconds but for each half of the couple, it seemed an eternity, and an eternity they happily spent together. "Yes, it's lovely." This voice was much deeper than the last but the way he spoke made it just as gentle and just as careful. Without words, the couple both appreciated the moment so much more. And alas, then came the interruption as a regally dressed waiter besided the table, champagne bottle in hand, napkin around it's base. The man put up his left hand as if to signal rejection to the waiter. Instead, he asked for the bill and the lady's coat to be brought to the table. Unlocking their hands, the couple sat back in their chairs, maintaining eye contact throughout. They would not finish their meals. They had not come to eat. As her coat arrived, the lady stood. It was only now that the beauty could be inhaled as a whole. There she stood, bronze in colour yet gold in heart, a red dress cupping her breats, hugging her hips, clinging to her thighs and softly coming away from her knees, bare lower legs tanned, smooth and lean. On her feet, fashion excelled beyond function in four-inch stilletto heels, laced over her feet at the front, black in colour. Before putting on her cream fur-lined coat, the lady flicked back her dark-brown hair, a colour as deep as her eyes. Individual hairs temporarily lost their way but soon settled as a whole again. Her hair caught the rays of light with accord, glistening with a long shine. The madame was tall, her heels allowing her a total of over six feet in height. With her coat draped over her shoulders, the lady watched her partner walk around the table, and lift the coat for her to place her arms through. She smiled as he showed a perfect gentlemanly trait. And alas we achieve our first view of a dapper-dressed gentleman, standing tall in a black suit, well-polished leather shoes on his feet, glinting in the low light. A single-breasted jacket was buttoned from the top, only the bottom of the three buttons remaining undone. Below this, a blue cotton shirt showed itself, only to be hidden further by a very dark navy tie, silk in material, a background design almost invisible with it's intricacy. He wore his hair well, brushing it's chestnut body in different directions, maintaining both a casual look and a smart and handsome appearance. The gentlemen was clean-shaven, lightly tanned skin being shown off by the smoothness and clarity of his complexion. With the suaveness of a British Secret Agent, the man slid a leather bill wallet onto the table, taking no effort to conceal the many notes contained within. Placing a gentle arm over his lady's shoulder, they walked towards the exit, their waiter nodding with a smile across his face as they passed him. The man gave the waiter a wink, indicating his pleasure with tonight's service. The waiter, nor the chef, should be offended that the food had not been eaten. Both should be awed by the feelings present over the food they had prepared. Stepping out into the road, a black Mercedes S-Class, it's interior invisible because of midnight tints, waited for them, it's keys handed to the gentlemen by a porter in exchange for a few green papers. He had been paid, and the couple had their car. Yet another piece of the 'perfect evening' jigsaw fell into position. An urgent 'peep peep' sounded and the cars lights flashed, the lady waiting for her partner to open the passenger door. And so he did, walking around and removing her coat as she sat in, taking care not to damage her coat or the evening. Nor was she about to crease her dress, taking care to straighten the leg part of the dress before sitting on it. With a gentle hum, the car started, and the couple drove away.
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