Tasting Licorice

Chapter III. My favorite tune

Donna sat at the restaurant table as the fifteenth minute of the scheduled hour passed. She was watching the entrance closely, scanning each man crossing the threshold as if she was profiling them.

This one silver-headed, wide frame and visibly well-built at some point, yet he's now developed a layer of fat in all the unwanted places. Improperly shaven, a little clumsy in his gait, poorly picked, though expensive, clothes. Not less than 60 years of age. Offsuit.

This one not at all in a gentleman's attire. A suit jacket, sure, but under it there's merely a casual T-shirt, disregarding the dress code. But they let him in, that means he's important, maybe rich? Judging by the details possible to make out at that distance, he must be about thirty. Measly built, generic face, too big of a nose. High card.

This one, hmm... Older, but poised and holding his head up high. A solid jawline, defined nose, sharp brow. Something of a Connery-esque charm. What's even better somehow, dressed in a very real, very fine tuxedo. A class act, they call him. Flush.

This one. An elegant youngster. Vibrant, vivid. Must be a CEO's son, not yet bittered by the system, full of hopes. Angular in all manners of speaking. Even his voice seems to cut through the air. Full house.

And then, ladies and gentlemen. There came he. The face as if casted in bronze, like a Greek statue — symmetrical features, tan. Hair the color of chocolate, with a subtle gleam of gold. Could they be dyed? No, his temples were starting to gray. It would seem that could turn Donna off, but she knew the reality of aging and she accepted it. He looked no older than 30 as a whole, only the hair revealed the effects of time slowly catching up. Next up — carefully, one could say artfully trimmed beard. His built not overly athletic, slender, but strong. Eyes deep and thoughtful. Royal flush. All-in.

He entered, holding an animated discussion over the phone. He spoke something of business, profits and losses, bonds, a deal... they're in. For the first twenty-or-so seconds he wouldn't look anywhere but straight ahead, instinctively passed his coat to the cloakroom boy and silently sketched out the next few words with his lips. That was when he noticed Donna. It was hard not to. She waited dressed in a noble shade of orange, striking enough to beautifully contrast her dark skin tone, deep enough not to rob her of an ounce of class. Her entire silhouette from right above the knee up to nearly her shoulder sculpted a skin-tight shape, and only just at her cleavage did the fabric start gaining more volume. The whole dress was held up by dainty chain straps, which did their best not to obscure her softly outlined collarbones. She topped those with a golden highlighter, as she did with her cheekbones. The make-up was minimal, at most deepening the already present shadows and shapes of her features. Simply black and gold, and a touch of purple blush that directly counteracted the orange of her dress. Her box braids were tied back with a slight shift of the parting that placed a playful imbalance on one half of her face. She was a masterpiece, an Athena Parthenos of the American continent. And he was there to worship.

"We're going all in, no discussion. You'll thank me later," he concluded through the phone as he finally sat down opposite her. He flashed a forced smile at her as he disconnected, putting down the phone with a quiet, yet noticeable thud. "Crave, pleased to finally meet you in person."

"Donna. You're late, something like twenty minutes."

"Oh you have to forgive me, sugar. Those idiots can't run the office without me for a second! But we're gonna make some big bucks, it's in the cards."

He spoke with this overwhelming calmness, his voice of medium pitch, but with pleasantly warm lows. He talked as if nothing ever stood a challenge for him. He was in control of everything, including Donna's impressionable brain. She was not of that sort, she was sensible and logical. And yet, his charm would sway her boat off the course originally meant towards intellectual high-grounds onto the turbulent and rocky shallows of romantic thrills.