Pinot Noir
Legacy Name: Pinot Noir

The S t o r y


Nick sat at his desk, thrumming his fingers against the sweating glass of whiskey placed in front of him. He smoothed the wrinkles in his creased dress shirt for the fourteenth time that night, loosening the tie around his neck with a sigh. The dame wasn't going to show.

A knock at the door five feet in front of his desk had him sitting alert, then quickly leaning back into a posture that conveyed he didn't give a damn about who was inquiring at his office. The face rippled through the small window lettered with "Glass and Co. Consulting Agency" looked suspiciously female.

"Yeah, let's have it." He said in a surly tone, commanding an air of businesslike detachment.

The door opened to allow an attractive blond head the view of the room. "Oh, Mr. Glass, I wanted to let you know your appointment's here."

Nick sagged back into his chair, the calculated demeanor erased from his voice. "Doris, you'll give a man a heart attack looking so keen. You can send her in, but don't be too quick about it. She's kept me waiting."

Doris rolled her eyes, then gave a sideways glance towards the direction Nick presumed the woman in question to be stationed. "Don't bother feeding me those tired old lines, Nick. Save them for this little number. She's ritzy enough, probably won't have been around the likes of us enough to have heard 'em before." She ducked out of the room with a wink and a gleam of peroxide, shutting the door with a click behind her.

Nick braced himself once more, setting his fedora on his head at a jaunty angle and raising his eyebrows into a tired look of inquiry. The door cracked hesitantly, high heels snapping against pine floors as his potential client entered the room. The dim bulb in his desk lamp cast a shadow from the small, black lace veil she wore across her face, but he could tell she was a knockout from the way her dress hugged her body.

She spoke in a low tone, the kind of voice that had a man leaning closer despite himself. "Mr. Glass, I need your help."

The G i r l


Name: Eva Leroux

Age: 20 years old.

Looks: Dark brown eyes, Auburn hair... he knew those dollface types. Talk about an hourglass figure. He wondered why she wore that dark veil. Guess it was to hide a pair of big, beautiful liar's eyes. Those types of girls were always liars.

Personality: Ice queen. But he couldn't know it at first, the way she looked so warm. She knew how to get what she wanted.

Prefers: Red Wine, Fur, Lace, Veils, Expensive Jewelry, Seduction, the Foxtrot

Artwork: X X X