Bloody Mary
When he first saw her at the bar, his heart stopped, and he knew that he had to have her. These women, he thought, shaking his head in mock disappointment with himself, are going to be the death of me. But it was a pantomime enacted only for his own amusement. He was, in truth, beguiled by his own weaknesses, and as attached to his habits as a father to a beloved child.
She was the sort of woman one never sees in real life, a woman of such beauty and radiance and presence that she would be inevitably drawn into a life of glamour and wealth—or into porn. She was as out of place in this ordinary restaurant as a unicorn in a barn. Not that the place was a dive: on the contrary, it catered to the professionals and white-collar workers from the many office buildings on the avenue
