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"The Model" By John Sebastian (fiction or is it?)
She invited me back to her apartment for dinner.
This was our first meeting and i was nervous, I had seen her pictures in the glossy magazines
that dazzle, sparkle and shine from the ramshackle newstands that line 42nd street.
She told me she loved what i did and that she wanted to meet me in person.
I thought it was a bit daring of her to invite a complete stranger to her apartment
for dinner but how could I say no to a woman like this.
I showed up on time which was unusual for me not because i was trying to make a statement but mainly
because my concept of time was like my theory on money it was fleeting and more of it would come
tomorrow. She Opened the door alll six ft of her and I stood there breathless, yes of course because of
her intimidating beauty but also because her 6 floor walk up on the Upper West Side was like climbing a
narrow mountain. She invited me in and kissed me on both cheeks like they do in France.
I stumbled through some preliminary conversation but couldnt quite hide my underlying nervous feeling,
she smiled and was very polite her eyes were brown, dark brown but i could swear they changed color in
the candle light she was a worldly woman and probably had plenty of experience with men who were
much more aggressive and smooth than i was at this particular moment.
I couldnt help but think to myself that this woman could eat me alive and use my bones for decoration
like so many windchimes that dangled in the windows of a chinatown furniture store.
So Sasha this is a lovely apartment you have here, you like it she replied as if surprised that I thought
so. I said yes with a bit of a cough in my throat,. im making a little something for us to eat nothing special
just a snack. It smelled more like I was in a fine french restaurant and she was the master chef. She
brought a dish which contained scallops and vegetables in a coconut broth that tasted like pure heaven
and to refrain from looking like i had'nt eaten in a week i put the china bowl down on the table before i
finished it. I asked her if she was going to have some and she said she wasnt really hungry for food right
now, as she swallowed the rest of the wine in her glass and then poured us both another round. So Jack
how do you write such beautiful storys about people and how do you know so much about women? i lied
and told her I made most of it up.
She grinned and sat closer.
Speaking in french she then said' Allons-nous sauter le petit entretien et de passer à un sujet plus
intéressant, the sound of it was like music that floated in the air amidst the smell of French cuisine and
perfume. later i would find out what this meant and realise that my instincts were correct and she was
making a strong and definate pass at me.....