Magic

He was not someone she ordinarily would have been attracted to, or someone she even would have met. 

Cleo had been stranded and there was nowhere else for her to occupy herself as a client had cancelled at last minute. Feeling the way that she had been at the time, she easily sat at the dive bar right at the barren midday bar. Since the only wine on the menu was a miniature bottle of a wine she did not like, she wanted to see if the bartender had Campari.

He was sitting diagonal from her and his acumen about wine left her breathless. Looking at him she would not have guessed that he was an expert. He was actually the sommelier for a restaurant nearby, and this was his favorite dive bar in the neighborhood.

He of course invited her to his restaurant and ordered their food—and of course their wine pairings. Cleo was intoxicated from the scent and taste of the wine, even before she was tipsy. Even after he had her just taste a few and spit it out.

Sitting close to her he smelled like leather and cigarette smoke, which was her ultimate masculine scent and even more intoxicating to her clouding her focus. He had random piercings—one she would not find out about until later that evening—and a tattoo peeking from under his leather jacket.

Wanting him had been dictated by time and place. If she had not been stood up by her client, she never would have met him. She would not be on her side now looking at him. He reached between his legs to cup himself. He told her it lulled him to sleep, and he did it while he was asleep unconsciously sometimes.

His tattoo in plain sight now, was a line from a Pablo Neruda poem, and she wondered who he was fucking out of his mind through fucking her? Hopefully fucking each other was enough of a form of magic to make their demons disappear…

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