Romantic Literature

Arrive like this: stood behind Savinien a beautiful young man.
"Marthe, this is Pierre," Savinien says. "What a freakish downpour! Just out of the Arlequin onto the Tour Montparnasse and caught in a gust of rain. Can you believe it."
We are all harried by thoughts of what might be missing, arranging the room into facts:
"There are three of us then."
Marthe full-face to the mirror, eye-shadow, eye-liner, mascara, face, wearing a light blue t-shirt, pale as spring against her red hair - she looks like a lollipop.
Savinien is still thinking about their new guest. Some soft part, the nape of the neck perhaps, where I’ll fasten my teeth.
"Hello; a pleasure." Nod.
Does he love him? Not in the least.
Some left-over duck waits in the fridge.
"Well," he says to Savinien, "I am hungry."
"Yes," Marthe says, "we are."
"Mm? Oh," Savinien flattened his voice to a wheezy growl. "You can't be hungry."
Heat nuzzled at the bottom of her spine, comfort.
"Hungry hungry hungry," she says.
“You’re so much fun,” Savinien’s slight.
Slatts of light flicker through the blinds, bites of duck placed on a baking tray, a voice mumbles from the back of the room, a radio playing low.
"I think I’m losing weight," she says, as the voice sings ‘tomorrow is something something the something will bring something of something I fear’.
Savinien makes a mental note of subjects to avoid.
“Pierre,” she catches his attention. “Do you have any family?”
“Hn. I have three sisters, a brother, three children, Marc-with-a-c Paul and Jeanne, a wife, father, stepmother, and more in-laws and nieces than I can keep track of.”
"That’s quite the set." A little red-wine into the gravy.
“How about you?”
“I have Savinien.” He looks up from his stove.
“Do you work?”
“I have Savinien.” A smile softens her eyes, the tip of her tongue pokes out in a kind of conspiracy.
He throws handfuls of sliced onions into the pot, then a twist of pepper.
"How long till we eat?" asks Marthe. "I'm famished."
"Another hour."
"Would you like a Gin & Tonic?”
“Please. If you don't mind."
Pierre loves women who drink.
Maybe she smokes!