Ilona never wore a bra. A Brusten Halter was how it was called in German, and that was exactly what it was in her opinion, it strapped a woman’s chest, restraining her from breathing freely. She loved the sensation of her breasts uncovered, it was the greatest feeling of liberation she knew. Tonight, she wore a golden dress with a low décolleté. The grace of being a woman was the best blessing she had known, and discovering what it was to be a woman best, the most blessed experience of her life. There was a delicate balance between being a strong, self-conscious woman and being a weak, passive belle. It was a role you had to be continuously aware of, and show, because men would take advantage of every moment of weakness, and a single moment of lost control would be enough to destroy the beauty of being a woman. In her mind, weakness was an emotion men could afford themselves, and this made them weak by nature. But, she would not allow herself a single moment of lost attention, loss was not a sensation she could adapt to. And so she soared on that volatile height where the winds of her character are free to be moved in unpredictable directions. This titillating sensation was the true soul of free womanhood.

Tonight, she met for diner at tapas restaurant Cafe Espanol with Olga, Andrei, Maria and Jim. Olga and Andrei were an older couple in their early fourties. Ilona and Jim were a young couple, Maria was the daughter of Olga. Ilona took out a scented cigar, moved it toward her mouth and before her gentle lips had formed around its mouth piece, Andrei held his burning lighter in front of her, shielding its flame against the breeze. As she bent forward holding her cigar, her hand touched slightly that of Andrei who smiled in response. She loved these moments of absolute control. Men never realized that this was enough victory for her, and they kept believing that such a moment of reciprocal flirtation was the foreplay to greater fulfillments. Rather, beyond this point men became disgusting, repulsive. Beyond this point men lost their grace, they became gamblers ran out of luck, addicts who were unable to take joy out of their addiction any longer. Women on the other hand, perfectly understood this. It was a secret code that never was shared or outspoken, but was part of the integral female instinct, of her innate grace. If you played it well, like Ilona could, you owned many man’s soul, like she owned Andrei’s. Perhaps this was the reason why she really liked women more than men. A woman could simply be weak, but they never were repulsive, they just lost their elegance.

When Ilona met Olga and Andrei, Andrei suffered already from this male flaw of character. He had flirted with her, she danced with him, let him pass his moment of potency and ever since he was a dangling man by her grace. He never became absolutely disgusting to her because he had kept to his etiquette. But as their friendship continued, she had developed an passionated relation with Olga. One night, when Olga had come over for a drink, their passionate friendship and admiration for each other, ended in a long evening of lustful sex. Andrei never learned about this night, but Olga and Ilona shared and cherished it as the foundation of their friendship. Andrei had sensed of coarse a certain erotic advancement by Ilona, but being typical male he had mistaken her incitement for a fulfillment of his desires. And while he felt encouraged by Ilona’s friendship, he never realized that his desires were put out of the play. Ilona inhaled with a slow and deep sigh, then blew the scented smoke in Andrei’s face.