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It all starts on a usual Friday night at the local "meet market" bar. It is filling up with the expected 20- and 30-somethings ready to unwind after a week's toil in whatever mundane endeavors they are involved. Yes, Friday night, the eve of the weekend, time to shed the drudgery of earning a living and begin "living." The atmosphere is electric as groups of young men and women mingle in the age-old ritual of attraction and repulsion. Everyone is searching for that "meaningful" something. The men are full of piss and vinegar, testosterone overflowing, testing the waters for that perfect evening they all dream about. The women in seeming total charge, as usual, casting glances and giggling over this hunk or that nerd. For me, I sit at my usual bar stool and drink it all in. I love the contests. There is nothing like the "love war" skirmishes, victories and defeats. I've been there and done that, but watching is fun as I absorb the energy.

The evening progresses with a gradual crescendo of activity and noise, the music pounding, the heat rising, the mood elevating, everyone in high spirits. I notice a woman enter and approach the bar. What a vision, tall and dark with shoulder length straight black hair, an aristocratic pale face, a lithe sinuous body, all wrapped in a tight black dress which clings to her accentuating every inch of her feline and sensuaous movements. As she seats herself, I glance around and, as expected, see every eye, both male and female, upon her. An entrance worthy a movie star. My own perspective is tempered by my jaded ...

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