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A little about myself first eh? Well my father owned this club a few years ago and asked me to take it over since it was going down hill. I'm 24 now and live a very happy life. Full of fun of every caliber." He said in a very egotistical tune. Why was he telling me this? I'm not some broad he was he trying to court. Unless I was? "Oh... Okay. Well that sounds like you enjoy life," I replied, not sure what to say. "Of course I do, but I'm lacking something, someone. I'm proposing that maybe we can get to know each other on a personal level?" He said pouring me and him another drink giving me a wink. I wasn't sure what to think at this point. I wasn't down for just a cheap one nighter, for him to add my name to his little black book of people he has fucked. "Ermm... well..." I managed to say before he interrupted. "I don't want this to go any further tonight than just a chat and a drink. I'm not asking for anything more I promise." he said. He sounded so genuine that time and I. “Does it?” she replied, her eyebrow arched. She moved towards me like a cat that had cornered its mouse.“Well, of course, it’s not immediately apparent. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer expanse of… colour. But the maroon is the unknown, it’s danger, it’s v******e. The yellow is home. It’s the lights left on on a dark night. It’s a lighthouse. It’s safety, the familiar.”I hoped that if I blathered on enough she’d not look at the card underneath the painting that said the exact same thing a thousand times more eloquently.“I’m not sure that’s true,” she countered. “To me the maroon is lust, it’s like a mist that descends, clouding everything out, and the yellow is the light, it’s the only way out.”She bit her lip, smiled naughtily and looked about to see that the security guard was out of earshot.“It’s an orgasm.”I almost found my way through my own maroon mist and to the yellow light at that moment.We continued on, me bullshitting my way, she interpreting every painting as being.
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