Eve Kendall took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened. No matter how many parties she went to, they always made her excited. She loved the free drinks, the possibility of meeting new people, and, most importantly, an excuse to buy a new dress and maybe even pair of shoes. Eve straightened her shoulders and put on the smile she had become so used to giving, polite, yet forthcoming, and even a tiny bit flirty. She opened the apartment door and was greeted with the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol. She quickly scanned the crowd and was relieved that she wasn't the only person there under the age of thirty-five. She accepted an hors d'oeuvres from a tray offered by a Peter Lorre lookalike, and gave a perfunctory wave to the hostess, Miss Griffith. Under the guise of politeness and wanting to meet everybody, she maneuvered through a maze of people and eventually got to the bar. She had a sip of her martini and took a cigarette out of her purse. Since she had brought her tiny, dressy purse, there hadn't been room for a lighter, but that was never a problem at parties.

"Pardon me, would you happen to have a match?" she asked the man standing nearest to her.

"Yes, of course". He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gold lighter. He lit it and Eve moved in, cupping her hand around his to steady herself while she touched the end of her cigarette to the flame. As she did so, she got a good look at him. He was not traditionally handsome, but there was something undeniably attractive about him. Clearly much older than she, he seemed as though he had a lifetime of experience behind him, with those great, sad eyes of his. His voice, though; God, his low voice with a hint of an English accent made her knees crumble and made the rest of her feel as though she were being made love to. She knew she wouldn't have looked at him twice if it weren't for his voice and his lighter.

"I don't believe we've met," he continued once he put the lighter away. "My name is Philip Vandamm." He offered her his hand, which she shook, noticing a lack of a wedding ring.

"I'm Eve Kendall." In a split second, she decided how to proceed with him and gave her best bedroom smile, a coy look in her eyes and a sly quirk in her mouth. Judging by the smile he gave in return, she had gotten the message across.

"And how do you happen to know Miss Griffith, Miss Kendall?"

"She was friend of my godfather's. What about you?"

"My niece is, um, very good friends with her daughter, so my sister and I have spent a lot of time with them over the years. My sister couldn't make it tonight, and my niece is away, so here I am."

"I see. And what do you do, Mr. Vandamm?"

"I'm in the exporting business, I'm sorry to say"

"Sorry because you dislike it?"

"Sorry because it's not exactly the sort of job one likes to admit to having, especially when one is at a party"

"Then I gather you don't do the exporting yourself?"

"No, my travels never extend beyond the states. I'm what you'd call a middleman. What is it that you do?"

"I'm an industrial designer."

"Oh, that sounds fascinating. What sort of things do you design?"

"I do household appliances, mostly. I haven't actually come up with any designs on my own yet, I just work in a design team, so it's sometimes very easy to get bogged down by politics. It pays the bills, though, gives me plenty of free time, and I enjoy the creative side of it, so I really have no right to complain. How long have you worked at exporting?"

She smiled once more and watched him as he talked. She wanted him. She'd been told often enough that her face and figure could get her any man she wanted, and it had been true enough when it came to the boys she had tried it out on. This one, though, she pondered as she watched him gesticulate softly with his champagne glass. He seemed much too confident and self-assured to find her irresistible. She could just picture the scene; his disentangling himself from her arms, a patronizing smile on his face, as he told her how "flattered" he was and suggested that she "might want to find someone her own age" or "someone who could appreciate her". God, he probably wouldn't even be embarrassed by it, and just go right on talking. At least she could assume he was unmarried, anyone who mentioned a sister before a wife usually was. Unless he was unhappily married, of course, in which case she may even have a better chance with him.

He continued to ask her questions about herself, which she normally appreciated, but with Philip, she found herself trying so hard to be clever that she couldn't focus on his marvelously sad eyes or her strategies for having him that night. She answered gamely, though, and felt herself get even more lost in voice.

"Come along everybody! Dinner's just about ready" came the shrill voice of Miss Griffith.

"If you're interested in art" Philip murmured to her as they were herded towards the dining table "I have a rather large collection. Perhaps you ought to come by and see it sometime."

"Oh, I'd love to" she tried to suppress an eager grin.

"Marvelous." He gave her another small smile as they reached the table.

Most of the guests had already been seated and Eve noticed with a stab of frustration that there weren't two free seats together. Worst of all, on closer inspection, there were embossed name cards on each plate. Not only did she want to keep talking to him, but she had also entertained fantasies about how wonderful his hand would feel working its way up her thigh.

"Now, Eve, I've put you in between Mr. Lamb and Mrs. Caldritch, I know you'll just be crazy about them." Miss Griffith cooed.

"Oh yes, I'm sure"

Eve sat between the two throughout dinner and was able to lose herself in the chatter about Mrs. Caldritch's children and the nefarious tactics the Russians were going to use to destroy the American way of life, whatever that meant. She and Philip exchanged glances a few times, but not enough to attract attention, let alone suspicious. After an agonizingly long time, dessert was cleared away and everyone started offering his or her goodbyes. She fidgeted in frustration as she glimpsed Philip shaking hands with their hostess, as she was stuck with Mrs. Caldritch wrapping up a story about her hairdresser. By the time Eve reached Miss Griffith, though, she was delighted to see Phillip still hanging back by the door. Anyone else in that position would have looked awkward, but Phillip looked so comfortable, giving final handshakes to other departing guests, and calmly smoking his cigarette, that she wondered if he was waiting for her after all.

Eve gave him a sidelong glance as she prepared to leave, and felt her heart being to beat faster than usual when he followed her out the door and into the elevator.

"Miss Kendall, I live just a few blocks away, and I was wondering if it might be convenient for you to come to my place tonight and I can show you my art collection."

"Oh, yes, I'd love to! If you're sure it wouldn't be a problem." she smiled, attempting to hide her blush and the squeak that had come into her voice.

"It's no trouble at all, really. I can fix you a drink, if you like. I make an absolutely splendid Old Fashioned."

"Yes please, I still haven't had enough to drown out the memory of sitting next to Mrs. Caldritch for the entire dinner."

He laughed before hailing a taxi with graceful flick of his wrist. He opened the door for her, and settled in beside her as he gave the driver his address.

She wondered if he was going to make a move in the cab, and as a way of silently giving him permission, she rested her leg against his as he sat down. He didn't respond, but he didn't move his leg either. It wasn't a long cab ride, and they spent most of it complaining about their dinner partners. The building they reached at the end of the drive was one of the grandest Eve had ever seen. There was a balcony for every window, and even in the dark of the night she could see the gold rails shine. They encountered a doorman as they walked up the marble stairs, and Phillip returned his gracious tip of the hat and wished him a good evening.

His apartment was what she would have expected from him. It was sparsely decorated, but the furniture was obviously carefully chosen and expensive. Paintings covered the walls and small sculptures decorated the few available surfaces, but they did not detract from the overall feel of total sophistication. She sat on the long red couch in the middle of the room while he made her his famous Old Fashioned.

When she first arrived in New York, she would have been more wary of so much wealth, but she had become used to the idea of people making money without actually doing anything. She was mildly curious, though.

"I didn't know the exporting business paid so well. I'm beginning to think I'm in the wrong line of work."

He smiled and handed her the drink. "Well, you see, it all depends on what you're exporting"

"And what do you export?"

"Everything." He sat on the couch next to her and clinked his glass against hers.

"You know," she said, taking a sip, "I'm not usually the type of girl who goes to strange men's apartments in the middle of the night."

"Oh? What type of girl are you then?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

She knew it was a stupid line, much too obvious, but just looking at him was overpowering. She needed to know if he wanted her too.

He gave a small chuckle. "And how do you want me to go about doing that, I wonder?"

"You could start by kissing me."

Still smiling, he leaned forward and gave her an experimental peck on the lips.

"Was that a good enough start?"

She nodded and he kissed her again, this time letting his tongue explore her mouth and his fingers get tangled in her hair. She did the same to him, glad that her bold move was so well received. He was a good kisser, forceful without being demanding. There was nothing she hated as much as men trying to grope or grind against her while kissing her.

"Well" she sighed after they disentangled themselves.

"Eve, you do realize I am quite a bit older than you."

"Yes, I know. Now kiss me again"

She leaned forward and he partly obliged her by gently nipping at her jaw and chin.

"How old are you, anyhow?" he asked, badly feigning casualness.

"Twenty-five. What about you?"

"Fifty"

"Really? That seems very lucky." She tugged gently on his tie and kissed him again, this time pressing her body close to his.

"Why don't you finish your drink and I'll show you the rest of the flat."

"And what room shall we start with?"

"Well, the bedroom is very nearby."

"That would make it the logical choice, then". She kissed him once more before setting her glass aside. "I'm afraid I'm not very thirsty anymore."

"Well then, we may as well get started." With that, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, hooked the other between her knees, and carried her into the bedroom.