Gilbert sat quietly. He could hear the rain falling outside, the steps of passers by all finding the same small puddle that collected a share of the run off from the cafe's canopy. His tea had gone cold some time ago, untouched. It paid his rent for the table, but other than that he had no interest in it. He sat with his hands clasped gently in his lap, unmoving, giving a sense of macabre to the story the waitress was making up in her mind to explain him, the handsome gentleman in the simple flawless dark gray suit with the thin black tie and tailored white shirt who seemed to be waiting with immense patience for someone whom he knew would never come. He wasn't mysterious at all, he thought, rather plain, simple and uninteresting. It was the world around him, and the people in it that were fascinating. It all seemed to exist merely for his bewilderment.
The 7:30 evening trolley rumbled by, telling him he had to go. He pushed back his chair, collected his hat and umbrella, and walked through the tables, all in flawless motion that spoke of a man with grace and power. The waitress smiled as he passed, he returned the favor and nodded as he set his hat in place, a bit down in front, opened the umbrella and stepped into the warm soft rain. It had stormed earlier, but now there was no wind. He avoided the puddle and walked purposefully down the street towards the station, outlined against the city lights, the clock tower marking time in the center of the sprawling noble and ancient structure. The trolley was slowing to a stop just outside, seeming to come a thing alive as a dozen people came and went from it. He knew she was one of those disembarking, and that she would head straight away for the platform, ticket in hand.
He crossed the street, the trolley clanging its bell as it began to pull away. He caught a glimpse of her entering the station, and he hurried his step. He was not anxious, but he could not miss this time. On reaching the massive door, he closed the umbrella, and tossed it into the trash bin outside, taking the opened door from the man who passed before him with a thanks, and entered the station, removing his hat and brushing rain drops from his sleeve. The station smelled of steam and hot metal, but he caught a whiff of humanity, unique as it was. He moved gracefully but with determination down the way to the waiting train. She would have boarded now. He looked down the length of the cars and could not see Mr. Benton, unsure if it mattered now. He boarded the last car and made his way forward through the first class cabins.
He remember this from the last time, the smells and sounds drowning him suddenly in a pressing cacophony of memories, emotions and visceral tension. He pursed his lips and refocused on the moment at hand. An old woman struggled with her bag blocking the way, he took a moment and lifted it for her, another grateful smile, and he moved past into the dining car. As fate would have it, it being necessary for them to meet having never met before, they would find themselves here in this place of legend where everyone knew them, but no one knew their purpose. The maitre d'hotel greeted him by name with a smile, took his hat and lead him to his table, his merlot having already been poured. His chair was pulled back by the gloved waiter, and he sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket, half listening to the waiter as he extolled the marvelousness of the evening's menu, allowing his napkin to be placed across his lap. He nodded, took the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, and sipped.
She came into the car as he finished the last of the escargot, heading his way, serene in her coppery beauty and shimmering manner as she was plain in her dress. She was removing her gloves as she approached him, the waiter pulling a chair aside for her as she settled in across from him wordlessly. The waiter offered her nothing knowing he had nothing she wanted or needed. Gilbert had fallen into her deep blue eyes from the moment she had entered, knowing all too well the spell she cast was a delicate web of dangerous provocation. He was not surprised that he felt no tension, though this moment could engulf the world with its urgency, undefused by Mr. Benton's remarkable absence.
After a moment she spoke with a smoky allure that indicated a coy playfulness underlined by a wanton seriousness, "Gilbert, its a shame you are gay, for I would love to ravage you just as you are...."
"Ah, and so it begins," he replied with a sip of wine. Of all the people in this odd place, she bewildered him most of all.
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