"I was with my girlfriend of two years, meeting a few of our mutual friends in a bar in New York. I was on a business trip and she decided to join me. She had never been to New York. Really all she wanted was to have her picture taken on 5th Avenue. Like a real Italian tourist.
But no matter, back to October and that night.
We went to a truly curious place. I can't even remember its name. All I recall are the expensive cocktails and the English porcelain tea sets. A waiter came up to us and asked one of our friends something, to which he nodded and gave the waiter a 100 dollar bill. He's rich, he could afford it. The waiter's smile suddenly looked real and soon he was flashing his fake pearly whites, escorting us through the bar, down to what at first glance looked like an unused wine cellar. I thought he might murder us, or rob us, or something along those nasty lines. Instead, he opened a passage into one of the wine vaults. We passed through there, suddenly aware that at the end of this mystery trail there was sultry jazz music playing. What was this? A sex club? Burlesque? Illegal poker game? Time travel even? I was drunk on excitement. My girlfriend, lovely as always, was dubious.
We turned a corner and found ourselves in an underground, 1930s inspired club. The little booths that you would expect to find in a gangster film had been turned into large divans, where people gathered to admire each other's beauty.
And there she was.
October."
E.
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