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A religious group investigates the Girls' factory.

After all, she didn't ask for this, and she's quite aware this is an opening ploy, and she's curious to see how he'll play his hand.

"Allow me," he says. He takes a knife from the tray, and cuts a thin slice of yellow-gold cheese, slides it onto a plate and sets it down before her. "Use your fingers. We don't stand on ceremony here. It's meant to be enjoyed."

Marija is slightly taken aback by his gesture, but she picks up the piece of cheese and bites into it. It is as firm as flesh at first, then yields to the pressure of her teeth, and her mouth is filled with a rich, sunny flavor, buttery and smooth with an almost citrusy tang..

"The port," he says.

She sips her wine and he smiles as he watches her face.

"Sun in a garden, isn't it? What do you think?"

It's just as he says. The cheese is warm and sunny, the wine cool, fruity and dark: the combination is wonderfully sensual and intimate. But at the same time it's such an obvious pick-up routine that she has to smile, which is just what he expects. His smile in return tells her he knows it's a clumsy approach.

He's very good; perfectly charming, and yet when he looks at her she can see something warm and slightly dangerous in his eyes that brings a welcome flush of heat to her face and chest. She notices that none of the other men have chosen to approach any tables, and she takes that as a compliment.

"Please," she says. "Won't you sit?"

He holds out his hand. "Ariel Bloom," he says. "I hope you're suitably impressed?"

"With your name? Or with the whole presentation? The wine is very good."

"Port," he says. "Vintage port. It was a terribly transparent gesture, I'm afraid. But sincere. Things move very quickly here at the Pavane, and he who hesitates is often lost." He fills her glass and looks at her. "Or she, as the case may be."

Had all this happened only a few hours earlier, Marija would have laughed in his face, but sitting here filled with exquisite food and drink, in a room whose beauty seemed to impose its own set of rules, she enjoys his attention and his outrageous flirtation. This is, after all, what the Hotel Pavane is for, and this kind of elaborate attention is something new to her. She never engages in anything like this in her normal life. There's never any time, and normally Marija prefers to get right to the point. Now, however, she finds his attention both flattering and arousing. She still has doubts about herself, however; about her ability to go through with this.

He works at the Hotel, in some capacity that isn't entirely clear to her: something with event planning, she gathers. He's terribly knowledgeable about the place and often refers to designs and scenes and programs.

"And how is it that you happen to be in the Ladies' Dining Room?" she asks him.

He shrugs. "Why not? There's no segregation, nothing like that. Anyone's free to go wherever they please. Most men are put off by the word 'Ladies' and so they stay away. This room is really intended for women who prefer to choose their own partners, free of the kind of pressure they'd feel in one of the mixed rooms. I find such women fascinating to watch."

He smiles at her. "I know, it's terrible. Very voyeuristic, but it fascinates me to observe people exercising their desires. Don't you agree?"

In the context of the Hotel, Marija can only guess what he means. "Perhaps."

"But I hope you don't feel that I'm unduly pressuring you," he says. "I don't want to insert myself where I'm not wanted."

She looks at him and sees a hint of a smile in his steady gaze. He's an intelligent man, and she decides his choice of words was deliberate. She returns his smile and holds out her glass for more wine. "Not at all."

They talk of things of no great consequence, but the words are just an excuse to keep themselves together, like the wine and the cheese. There's no hurry, and yet there's a sense that time is wasting too. Inside Marija is filled with doubt.

He's everything she's been looking for, she realizes.

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