Sunshine Woman Amouage 2014

Amouage...Amouage, Amooouaaaaaaage.
That word alone puts me into the Thousand and One Nights.
Scheherazade with her stories. yes...
Be that as it may.
It is evening and my husband has invited me to dinner. The rascal always does that when he has done something wrong and has to bend it straight again. Hmm... yes, I like to eat well. And he knows it
Chic upscale restaurant with evening music, also dancing if you like it. I am not so much the dancer, then rather disco, where the dance arts are not so relevant. But that's not the issue now.
There are 8 courses, beautifully fine with decorated biscuits on the plate. Between the corridors one may swing the dance leg. We eat, talk and observe. Cultivate our marriage, so to speak.
An older couple has taken a seat at the neighboring table. She - very well-groomed, blonde. He is tall, visibly aged, well sprung, Mediterranean appearance. When we already came to our table, the Lord winked at me in greeting. "Nice," I thought. Again and again there was a little conversation. The gentleman made charming compliments and constantly winked in my direction. Sometime between aisle 4 or 5 he rose, visibly anxious and steered in our direction.
"May I ask the lady for the dance?" bathei he looked at my husband "I'd love to." My husband winks at me. Until I can even understand with whom the gentleman wants to dance, the good guy pulls my hand and I have no choice but to follow him onto the dance floor. The gentleman puts both hands around my talie, a rollator handle like this, and off we go. We rock back and forth like this. I look embarrassed at my husband, who is visibly enjoying himself, talking to his wife.
The Lord at my side comes so close to me that he breathes down my throat most of the time.
"O... You're rich... They smell like my summer home."
"Really? Where is it?"
"Caucasus, you know where that is?"
Well, I was good at geography. I nod and try to describe to him roughly the geographical location of the area.
"When I was a little boy, there was an apricot tree in our yard. Which was so huge that we could play under it when we were kids. He gave beautiful, cool shadows. The tree bore so many fruits that nobody was able to pick them. That's how they fell to the ground. But the sun was burning. You know, in summer it was up to 50 degrees Celsius, so these apricots dried on dusty ground. There we had, boys, until autumn always something to eat on the street. You pick those up, dust them off, and hmmm... I haven't done so well in Germany. They reach for these apricots and the hot Caucasian sun."
Whoa...That was a compliment...

Music has died down and we went to our places. I still had to prop the Lord up when I left... But in my head, for the whole evening... The Arabian Nights. Chess Avenue. Caucasus. Amouaaaaage.