A Gentleman's Secret

~ The Meeting ~

This story contains mature subject matter, excluding erotica. Reader discretion is advised. Full disclaimer at the end.

He is the gentleman whom we all know, but his omnipresence still surprises us at times. He is the gentleman whom we wish we can despise, because he can charm even the best of us.

He has too many names, but we'll call him "the Gentleman" for simplicity. The girls, of course, remember each of his names and love to baptize him with new ones.

With a striped beanie, a tricolor red-green-blue scarf, a black cashmere trench coat, sweatpants, and black leather shoes, the Gentleman walks into gatherings, his back hunched, not due to old age, but to years of unhealthy posture. Maybe due to his back, to some old unknown wounds, or simply to habit, he limps across the floor then sits at a chair as soon as he comes across one.

Gifted with a tongue for the dramatic, the sincerest gaze, and a loud voice, the Gentleman tells his undying stories to his neighbors – always women. The words flow out of his mouth like the mesmerizing chant of sirens, leaving the audience bewitched. Everyone forgets that his hair dye doesn't hide the white stemming from his scalp, nor does it mitigate the impression left by deep wrinkles all over his face and the slightly purple lips, whose color hint at some poor blood circulation, that his facial features are disproportionate, and that the combination of strong cologne and breath freshener doesn't cover the stench of rot rising from his innards every time he opens his mouth.

To be continued...