Pas Ce Soir 100Ml

As she does every evening, the woman gets ready in her office. She has no time to go home. She freshens up, puts on her make-up: velvet red lipstick, sometimes burgundy, depending on her mood. She brushes her hair and takes her necklace out of her handbag. Her white shirt, slightly open, highlights her attractive curves. She adds a little more black to her eyes. She slams the door to the street and steps onto the pavement in her high heels. Like every Thursday, she goes to the Place de la Concorde cabaret. She has high hopes, like every night. She likes people, she likes life. He finds a stool at the bar and orders a whisky on the rocks before lighting his cigarette. In the darkness, she sees a silhouette in front of her. She turns to the side. It is him. It is always him. Their paths cross often, but they never speak. She smiles, gets up and goes to dance. Alone. Men queue for her attention, she responds politely. The woman is chic. Around 2am, a dandy-looking man catches her eye and asks her to dance. She complies but only briefly, bows and says she has to go home. She likes him, but morning approaches. He leaves after whispering these words in her ear... «Not tonight».