The date subverted the man’s expectations. They dined, drank whiskey, played pool and ate molten cakes, yet the night seemed to just be beginning. The woman moved through the world like a marionette with no master; she struck not a soul with her limbs. The man followed. On their second date, they talked little; instead, they dipped doughnuts into their coffees and traced the lines on the inside of their hands with their forefingers. At the end of the evening, the woman squeezed the man’s body to hers. His arms fenced in her waist, and she did not let go.
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"Classic"
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