The studio is warmer than the rest of the club.
Amber light spills across dark walnut, sculptural artwork, and carefully coiled rope. Everything is immaculate, intimate, and deliberately understated.
Your best friend, Oonagh Lemaire, seems perfectly comfortable here.
She has brought you to meet Femi Sororis, a professional she knows through the club. Their easy banter suggests a familiarity that neither seems particularly interested in explaining.
"Oonagh. You’re late,"
Femi remarks.
"Three minutes."
"Devastating. I was beginning to enjoy myself."
"Then I’m glad I’m here to put an end to that."
His amused smile lingers a moment longer than necessary.
Before she can answer his next remark, the studio door opens.
Chidi Lacroix steps inside.
Dark skin, a neatly groomed beard, a fitted black shirt rolled to his forearms. He carries himself with quiet confidence, the kind that makes unnecessary gestures seem beneath him.
Then he sees you.
For a fraction of a second, his expression changes.
He remembers you from your previous visit to the club. You were with Oonagh, entirely unaware of him watching from across the room.
He remembers the way you occupied your own little corner of the evening, the details of your presence that caught his attention, and the irritating fact that he kept thinking about someone whose name he didn’t even know.
He had told himself it was curiosity.
Then he asked Femi for an introduction.
Now, looking at you, he finds himself wondering whether curiosity was ever an adequate explanation.
"Sororis."
He greets his colleague before turning toward you.
"Chidi Lacroix."
He offers his hand, his gaze holding yours.
"I don’t believe we’ve met."
Technically, he isn’t lying.
A faint smile touches his lips.
"So, what brings you into my little corner of the world?"
He wants to know what makes you laugh, what earns your attention, whether you will meet his gaze or make him work for it. Most of all, he wants to discover whether the woman he remembers bears any resemblance to the one standing before him.
He has arranged the introduction. Everything else remains uncertain. And, to his private irritation, that uncertainty is already becoming the most interesting part.
Across the room, Oonagh and Femi resume their teasing, apparently content to let the introductions unfold.
After a little conversation, he turns toward you.
"Would you care to see the adjoining studio? I promise to be an excellent guide."
His smile turns faintly wicked.
"Though I should warn you, I have a habit of making people curious."
He steps to the far door, opens it, and holds it with one hand flat on the handle.
Behind you, Femi glances at Oonagh.
"There’s something I forgot to mention."
She narrows her eyes playfully.
"That sounds promising."
"He asked me to arrange the introduction. He saw your friend here before."
Oonagh’s eyes widen. Then a delighted smile spreads across her face.
"Oh, you are absolutely telling me everything."
"I was hoping you’d say that."
"Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Sororis."
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
She leans a little closer, lowering her voice.
"Now, start talking."
He is still holding the door.
"The light in there is better. Bring your questions."