Excerpt
The predictable phrases came and went, and the warmth of the
wine, combined with the body heat of the people in the room, made
the atmosphere cozy. Even the conversation grew softer and fluffier as
the wine flowed. When Paula got up to visit the powder room, one of
the guests, Kostas, found the courage to lean in and ask, “Hey, Costa,
is she hot?”
Costa flashed his widest smile at the poor man, but before he
could reply, Vangelis butted in. “Don’t worry about Costa. He’s got it
right. He can pick and choose.”
Costa could almost see the man salivating at the concept.
He laughed out loud, but now the doorbell interrupted them, and
as their host went to greet the new arrivals, Costa saw Anna, the
airy, sexy, pretty, and ethereal Anna, enter the foyer, her husband
close behind. Anna was always perfectly dressed, always trendy and
sexy. She walked gracefully, elegantly, through the living room, and
Costa’s expert nose picked up her light lilac perfume. He fixated his
eyes on her, and he sensed that Anna knew he had been watching
her as soon as their eyes met. Somewhere between her sexy walk and
her faint, provocative smile, Costa saw the prettiest female of the
evening.
How do women always know when a man is looking at them?
Costa had often wondered about this but had never found an answer
that satisfied him. But they always know. And they almost always
smile back. It must be the same knowledge Costa always had when, in
a gathering of women, one, that special one, would be looking at him
with desire amid others who didn’t give a damn. It was knowledge
acquired from experience, and a womanizer like Costa had plenty of
that. Anna surely must have heard all the stories of Costa’s escapades
and misadventures. After all, the whole Greek community had heard
of them. As Anna joined the other women, Costa watched all the hugs
and kisses coming and going, each woman hugging and loudly saying,
“Hi, how are you?” while murmuring to herself, “bitch,” a word every
woman used when a prettier one entered the room and the eyes of all
the men glued themselves to her like limpets on a rock.
Manolis Aligizakis 