I am nearly 20,000 words behind in NaNo right now, so I have to make every spare minute count. Five minutes? Fine. Here’s my five minute, no-edit word addition:
“Glass of wine?” Rémy asked as he pulled a bottle of crimson liquid out of a brown sack. He didn’t wait for her response and decanted the wine in one seemingly fluid movement. “It smells divine,” he said as launched the perfunctory swirl and sniff. He closed his eyes and let the wine rush into his mouth. Sarah watched this ritual unfold, as she had for the past seventeen years. On one of their first dates, she asked him why he always closed his eyes when he first tasted a wine. He seemed so mysterious to her, this striking, brooding French man, and she wanted to unravel every secret he dangled. He told her that he believed a wine will taste different if you allow your other senses to come into play. If he was tracing the room with his aqua eyes and landed upon a beast of a woman, the wine, no matter how exquisite it might truly be, would taste flabby. Void of character and perhaps even slightly bitter. On the other hand, should his gaze fall upon a woman of beauty, a woman he wanted to seduce, the wine would exhibit an exaggerated heat and spiciness. Combined with dark chocolate undertones, a simple wine could remind him of the taste of a woman, at which point he would be powerless. And then what use would he be? She found herself naked in his arms a few hours later.
**
Damn. Now I want a glass of wine. And man to accompany it.
