<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">At close range her scent was intoxicating. It was fresh off the mountain, floral and sweet, with an underlying grittiness that spoke of hard work and harder play. When she noticed me her eyes flared and the slightest blush rose in her cheeks, and I mirrored her in my smile. She set back to work, finishing her task before returning her attention to me, but I could have sworn I saw a shudder roll through her form, and a beautiful form it was. She moved with quick, sure efficiency, and I could see that she took sensual pleasure in the work and the consequences of it. Wine that came in bottles that big and in boxes that plain couldn’t suit my need, but I found myself wanting to have a taste of the woman moving them. Subsequent to the fear I had just felt I wasn’t surprised that my body wanted to live a little, but it looked to me like she might enjoy being sampled. Normally when it came to that I took practiced steps to bind and quarter my interest, as it would be a powerful distraction and potentially a dire complication in my line of work, but this woman somehow put off my reservations and I found myself emboldened. I reached out to make a delicate inspection with my magical senses on instinct, and verified that there was no charm work at play here, just glands and healthy attraction. That, and something else. Something secret and yet not, something right under the surface and stirring with power and force. Whatever she was, she was not mundane. Curiously, this made me relax even further. Magical beings were powerful, territorial and dangerous, but they were also clued in, and I had the feeling if things got rough and tumble between us it would be lustful, not violent. And for the first time, I felt like I wanted to do something about it. To that end I retracted my senses and backed away from her secrets. In all the world there was nothing more intimate than sharing secrets, and nothing more violent than stealing them, and with this one I vastly preferred the former over the latter.<br/>
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The smile she gave me when she rose up from her task was as radiant as it was dark, and gave me the impression that she had reached a similar conclusion. The wink that followed her words gave them a subtle double entendre, just as mine had had, and I took it as permission. As she bent over to pick up the box, and then moved around the bar, I watched the fall of her hair, the curling dance of her fingers, the rolling of her back, the sashaying of her hips and the gorgeous tone of her ass. She was right: best damned part of coming here by far. She neatly tended to the box, then came back to the bar with a cooler of wine samples. I glanced over them and the list she gave me, then back up to her bewitching eyes at her question. “I have tried wines, but let’s assume I haven’t, as your knowledge is undoubtedly vast compared to mine.” I took the pencil in my left hand and the list under my right. The list was long, and might have been daunting if I wasn’t sure my estimation of her was accurate. “I think that last question might be most telling. I am about to engage in a private business arrangement with a woman of power, intrigue and sophistication, and the wine must serve to entice her into ignoring the fact that because I am calling in a favor she won’t have much choice in the matter. I happen to know that she frequently engages in various sensual activities in lieu of the ones that are beyond her, and I’d like to provide her with something unique and vivid that she will not soon forget so the next time I speak with her after tonight she will be more inclined to smile in spite of herself than tear my head off.”<br/>
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I gave a small smile in the pause I made before continuing. “So, my first instinct says red, and as I like my head where it is, let’s not worry at all about price range. I want something that comes in its own box, with an attractive and shapely bottle, so potent and rich as to warrant taking only sips at a time, and that cannot be acquired anywhere else.” I let my gaze deepen into her eyes, roam over her cheekbone, dance over her lips and take in the plunge of her décolletage, then settle back in her irises as I dropped my voice in register if not in volume. “And, for the sake of conversation, I will not be drinking it with her.” As I let the words hang, my eyes were drawn once more to the pattern of freckles that speckled her cheek. I wanted to reach out and touch them, to trace a wandering path through her delicate and intricate spots, and, with all my black, little heart, I hoped she saw.</span>