My footsteps reverberated throughout the room as I approached the forklift. I hastily climbed aboard as I could hear the restless impatience of the waiting dock workers. The smell of nearly ripe fruit mingled with the salty breeze from the loading dock as I carefully navigated the lift under the wooden slats supporting the tower of produce. I locked the lift in place, shifted gears and lifted the heavy load high above me, nearly halfway to the rafters. Carefully, I navigated the forklift toward the opening where half a dozen men anxiously awaited their final load of the day, eager to grab a beer at the local pub just up the block.

She looked ravishing.

There was no other word for the woman poised at the top of the sweeping staircase.

No, that is not true. Ravishing and scared.

As she looked at the swirling assembly of guests in the grand foyer, she nearly lost her nerve. The chaos of the dancers drove her back into the shadows.

Guessing at her indecision, he strode up the stairs, capturing her astonished eyes in his purposeful gaze.

“Madame,” he said as if they had not known one another since they were weaned. “Good evening. May I say, that you look exquisite.”

“Good evening, sir,” she replied. “I am sure it is most inappropriate for you to say so, but I am grateful. Trading blue for black is more difficult than I supposed.”

“The blue only accents the depths of your eyes.

“Now, shall we?” he said exending his arm.

She accepted and smiled. “Merci.”