Late-night assignment

[Noémi Jourdain]

“La chance sourit*,” she said, with the soft hint of her own smile. Whether he could translate she did not know, but French was so much more beautiful than English. The sultry peeks and curves chimed like music, and he did not need to know the exact words to feel the sentiment.

Noémi knew others often found her beautiful. It had been the only currency to her name once, and one she had never spent unwisely. Her maman had always urged her to grow up smart, not beautiful, but beauty had been the tool to keep her clothed and fed. His intensity did not make her wilt nor blush, though his eyes were sharp enough to cut right to the soul, and for a moment the air felt so charged she was not sure breath made it through her parted lips. She was mesmerised by that thrill of power, of being desired. Of desiring in turn.

He drew closer. The gesture was old-world gentlemanly, and she luxuriated in the moment as she reached for his hand and let him pull her to her feet. There was never a moment she considered refusing. The Fates themselves might assure a knot of heartbreak in every thread, and she would always choose this.

“A pause,” she agreed, thinking on the note that had accompanied the inky black roses. A pause from her work. A pause to give this dream wings, while it lasted.

(*fortune smiles)