She breathed the aroma before she saw it coming. An earthy fragrance, nuanced with

something, perhaps a blend of the freshly served cuisine from the table beside her. No matter, she would not allow her senses to be tainted by conflicting aromas. Not this time.

"Magrets de canard," the waiter intoned at her elbow and the plate was laid before

her. And there it sat, exquisite and steaming, with a congregation of potatoes and

peaches, parsley and cloves, a single serving of moderately portioned nirvana. It was all a bit put on, a bit of a pile, but attractive like a respectable orgy of smooth-skinned waifs. She smiled at this. The waiter seemed to take this as a compliment, bowed, and asked her if she required anything else.

Her Bordeaux, like Jim Tourner, had left her. She gripped the glass by the bowl and made a tick-tocking motion to the waiter who skipped off to the cellar for a fresh bottle.What was his name again? Gaspar? Never mind. She licked her lips, her tongue was swimming in a pool of saliva but she had to wait for the Bordeaux.

Her manicured nails drummed upon the table like hydrogen bombs. Click click. She surveyed the others tearing bits of animal flesh with flared nostrils, slurping sauce with obscenely pursed lips. She gauged she would euphemistically call the man at the table to her right a gentleman, the one with the porous, pockmarked face. She turned to her left, a woman with an unfortunately inconsistent skin tone. She returned to her plate, a proper perfection devoid of embarrassing inconsistencies.

The waiter was then standing behind her. He was sweating, collecting his breath, panting like a salty dog. He mopped his sweaty brow with a soiled sleeve.

"Alright, darling?" she asked politely though she hardly cared.

He nodded and proceeded to decork the vintage in hamfisted fashion.

She awaited patiently. She was furious, waiting all this time for a goddamn glass of wine. Her lips compressed and she tasted lipstick. Just great, galette de pomme de terre with a side of rouge a levres. Perfect. She snatched up her napkin with frustration and removed the lipstick completely. She tossed the cloth to the table were it fell beside her empty glass stained with rouge.

Her eyes pierced the waiter as he struggled to remove the cork. His damn mustache, pathetic rumpled collar, partly tucked shirt, dingy dress shoes. She couldn't stand him. What was he doing working here? Who could have hired him? She looked about for a more senior waiter. Seeing none, she sat back and battered the table with her nails. Click click.

Ah, at last, the cork was free. He spilled a bit as he poured it but it didn't matter. She allowed him to finish the pour, set the bottle at the center of the table, and leave without a word. She took her time in smoothly applying napkin to left hip. She swirled the crimson contents of the glass and savoured the aroma. The scent from the duck was still there as well like an expectant lover with doe eyes. She lifted the fork. It gleamed in artificial light, it cast angelic slices across the reddened and sweaty faces of her fellow diners who were all oblivious to it.

She managed a bit of everything into a respectable morsel and regarded it, balanced as it was by thrice pronged steel. It hovered, immaculate. Her hand shook not at all, as deft and still as judgment. A slight bit of duck fat slid through the slits to the plate below. It didn't matter, she would collect it later, perhaps with a bit of peach for that perfect juxtaposition of fauna and fruitflesh. She smiled, closed the gap between anticipation and satisfaction, tasted the menagerie, allowed her tongue to be ravished, the bite to flow into her mouth, the fork retreated, the flavours siphoned.

For a brief moment she stopped, felt her throat tighten, her eyes water. Through bleary tears she gazed at the remainder of the plate just begging to be taken advantage of. She tried to breathe, she rose, hovered. She saw the waiter running towards her with stained waistcoat and that absurd mustache. Oh god, she felt herself sweating. She raised a hand to her mouth and began to choke.