MAD WITH LUST

I'm mad, mad, simply mad with lust, darling.

Oh, you'll never believe , but Mr. Rueda, the artist with the big brown eyes, hadn't eyes for me, but for Harry! Good Lord, darling, never am I ceased to be amazed at the bounty of men I attract for Harry.

Mr. Rueda's friend, Mr. Paul Brandier, had the delusion I was his when I opened my Kelly bag to place my gloves inside. He reached over and took my hand and said, "Here, let me." Amazing my chin held up the way it did, as I went speechless, which you know is simply not ME, as I always have something to say. Of course, I didn't know what to say, let alone to think just what he meant. Let him what?

He then began, in silence, to unbutton first my right glove, then my left and proceeded to unglove ME!

Well, I most certainly had never. Never in my life has a man looked so fearless at at the prospect of dismantling my wit; leaning into and toward me only to place them (my wit and gloves) in my Kelly bag and snap it closed. Just snap. Like that. I was astounded in his moment.

That snap might well have been the shot heard round the world, as the entire dining room of people went quiet and turned round to stare at ME. Oh my gawd, darling, I knew right then and there I was crisp toast to his buttered knife. It was killing.

Of course I'm just wild about manners and Paul's the tops. He was perfectly beyond casual limits. Every word after my ungloving, I stumbled, but Paul being so charming and all, handled me as if he hadn't noticed my stammering a bit. Two martinis (extra dry) later he whispered in my ear that we were taking the train to Madrid.

I smiled.

He picked up the check.

He took my hand.

I lost my heels, and we ran to the train.

As you can imagine darling, I never even noticed Madrid.

-Jacqueline

Postcript:
Andrea, of course hasn't a clue, but then I'm the one keeping clues.