“I can’t recall the last time I had dinner with a woman,” said Tony, sipping his flute of wine and anxiety curled up his lips as he stared into her face happily.

“Most of the dinner I had only succeeded in making me regrets having them,” Eva’s mother replied, stretched her hand to a pack of cigar which Tony had included as part of their recipe.

“Do you smoke?” he asked, shooting his curious needy eyes at her.

“I am an occasional smoker,” she replied, ...