How she had got there. Perhaps it was a way to pass the time, in the confines of where he was keeping her, to think upon it. How she had been seduced so far to somewhere she might never return from.
It had been a still night, and as she dipped her wrists into the cool water to rinse her glass, she saw the Jasmine blossom on the bower she kept on her windowsill. The soft scent wound it's way around her small kitchenette, but it was the only thing out of place and exotic in her house. Small, modest, safe. She felt comforted by the familiar pad of her feet upon the tiles, the same objects in the same tidy places. Her life was kept that way, by her alone.
He had caught her eye through the window. She could swear she had just been looking at the blossoms, and not for him, but if she was honest, he had been there before, in the garden beyond the one nearest to hers. It was unclear whether she was at a distance to observe him and not be seen, and it was more unclear whether she wished that she could be seen by him. The window was a sort of mirror, reflecting back and forth, easy to hide behind, but always confronting her with her own eyes, looking on him.
He did not appear to be alone, and she ran a hand through her hair, surprised to find she had automatically exhaled some sort of sigh. She wondered if it was wistfulness or envy, or both. Her skin felt very bare and untouched all at once.
Someone was with him. Someone smaller, and slighter. And they both looked burnished gold, bright and radiant, until she realized with a sort of shock that they were both nude.
She dropped the glass. As it shattered irrevocably across her pristine kitchen floor, she saw him turn, and their eyes met.
She knew from then on, that he had seen her watching, that he elictied something from her. It was really only a matter of time before they met. It was inncocuous, that first meeting. She had been behind the counter, and he had slowly made his way up to it, and put something on the counter top, she hardly remembered what it was. It may have been so obscure as to confrim to her that he only wanted the pleasure of having her ring it up, and tell him the cost, and to bursh her fingers as he dropped the hot coins into her hand. Bright gold, like he was that night.