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A tale of necessary spontaneous seduction.

Lighting a cigarette then remembering his promise not to smoke again.

His name is Joshua. 22. An average joe with an not so average past. Barely a man, yet the deepness of his eyes speak volumes of his age. Sporting jet black hair, the sprouts of greys are due any day now. An easy going sort. Artistic, optimistic, usually striving for that which is just out of reach. Some day all that will change when one of his ventures finally pays off; some day.

"Yeah, the second one broken tonight.", he thought.

He strolled passed his car; a cream Mitsubishi; lost in thought. Then realized, should he take the car back into the city and leave her taking a cab? He throws the cigarette onto the ground, stomps on it... then jumps in.

And this is their story.

Speeding down the highway, lighting another cigarette, he thinks of his past three years; going on four; supposed to be. Thinking was it stupid of him to propose to her a month back. He thinks of her; regretting anything? His thoughts goes on far into the night; most not nice.

"I need some."

His venture ultimately takes him back to New York. Manhattan. 34th St. He enters a bar he hasn't been in over three years. A few heads turn; some not recognizing, some remembering, some not caring.

He talks to the bartender; Willie. Tall, stringy, dark tanned. Semi-flowing dark hair; green eyes glowing. Very fidgety when he's nervous and Joshua making him just that; having the bad habit of calling people by their twisted nicknames.

"Hey Billiam!, where's Greg?"

Glasses clang. He sucks his teeth in an informal manner, gives Joshua a complementary drink, a funny dirty look and goes in the back.

She walks in. Short, ivory skin, hazel eyes, chin-length bright red hair, small build. Tight short-sleeved blue sweater and gray gap jeans showing her best. And sockless low-top sneakers. Mouth watering. Her friend soon enters; tall, blonde, blue eyes; naturally. Fuller build shown by longer red sweater, tighter blue jeans and high-top sneakers - with socks. More open but less flirtatious than her smaller companion. They see a new face by the bar; Joshua. Needing to smile; he doesn't as they step forward. Claiming to be out-of-towners, they make small talk; the short one being more aggressive of the two. They ask him; being a 'local' boy; to show them the town. Already assuming that he's local; which he still is; he can see this coming a mile away: Hotel card keys drop on the counter. Room 36 on the 6th floor; Pennsylvania Hotel right next door. Local boy should know where it it. 10:00 she said.

"I'm Christie, this be Jona."

"This might not be a wasted trip.", he wonders.

The card keys are pocketed as another approaches. Male. It's Greg. Short, thin but with a heavy build. Dark complexion. Brown, shoulder-lengthed braids. Spoke with command; always sporting a deep, monotoned voice. Christie quickly scribbles her number onto a laid out napkin and leaves.

"It's been forever, son!", Greg greets. "I see you haven't changed a bit."

Greg giving the departing couple an odd stare with his squinty eyes thinking of their leaving being related to his presence. Then happily turns to Joshua. He doesn't ask about his significant other. Swinging, grabbing, pulling, beating, patting, grunting; a guy's greeting. They chat, laugh, talk of old times.

The bar phone rings right beside them. Greg grabs the phone and speaks with the other person for sometime; a look of suspicion on Joshua's face. Time passes. Greg begins to hand the phone over to Joshua; the gesture being obvious. Only one person would know that he could be there; Joshua thought. He hates being predictable. Joshua hands the receiver back shaking his head. No. Greg craftfully invents a story while jotting down a phone number on the same napkin with the girls' number. Joshua twirls in his stool waiting for that moment. Greg hangs up.

"Eliza...", Greg only stated; gesturing to call back; smiling.

"What time?", Joshua responds.

Greg simply points to the napkin.

"Where?". Joshua asks again.

Greg repeats his previous gesture; smirki

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