Noir: Liebhaber in the Boat Dock

Just about the time I decide this woman is completely delusional we row into a covered boat dock. A very large fellow with the lightest blonde hair I’ve ever seen stands to greet us. He doesn’t look happy, or perhaps his heavy brow is always creased like that.

Gracefully, she exits the boat and barks an order to him in her crazy language. He responds in what seems to be the negative. Maybe not, as it’s a very forceful sounding language in general.

That’s when it happens, the change. Her body shifts, becomes more flood. The tone of her voice takes on a melodic tint, amazing that the harsh words now trickle out of her mouth. She approaches, her voice a song and her body a symphony.

I’m thoroughly impressed. The poor mook in the boat dock doesn’t stand a chance.

The goon dismissed, red cheeked and almost panting, she turns to me with a wicked grin as frightening as any fiream, “Und here, liebhaber, la bete noire.”

Frankly, I think the darn thing is a bit on the gaudy side, but that’s just me.

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