"My name is Matthew," I ventured, not even sure how to start up a conversation with this woman of mystery. I could only stare helplessly at her as she lifted the toothpick from her martini glass and brought the captive olive slowly toward her mouth. Her reddened lips parted slightly and the olive squeezed past them, then disappeared. Her mouth closed as she pulled the now barren toothpick back, a trace of lipstick smeared along the length of the glistening wooden spike. She placed the toothpick back into her drink and began to slowly run the wood around the inside lip of her glass.

"How perfectly nice for you," she replied, quietly, without enthusiasm.

Her voice was surprisingly husky, yet somehow musical, and it sent an unexpected chill down my spine. Startled by that unusual feeling, I felt as though I could now hear something, coming to me very faintly. From somewhere in the far distance, a cold breeze seemed to gently set in motion a thousand, frozen crystal chimes, and I had a momentary vision of what appeared to be an alien landscape. Knee high, thin, nearly translucent blades of flexible crystal undulated beneath that chill breeze, stretching away over gently rolling hills to the far horizon, under a yellow sky and a blood-red sun. As the wind blew, the nearly invisible blades of grass brushed gently against each other, and that was where the sound of the crystal chimes was coming from. This peculiar vision lasted only a moment, but I was somehow disappointed when it vanished.

I was brought back to reality by her seductive voice. "What is it you seek, Matthew?" she asked, softly, the sound of crystal chimes slowly fading as she dropped the toothpick into her glass and brought the drink toward her lips. She stopped the glass a few inches from her mouth, and I thought I could see her breath turn to condensation as she exhaled warm air over the chilled alcohol. "Do you seek absolute power," she whispered, "eternal happiness, or is it perhaps true love?" She sipped at her drink and set the glass gently back down on the table, still never having looked directly at me.

I was somewhat taken aback by her question and momentarily put off by her attitude. This was not exactly the type of conversation I had hoped to have with her, and I started to deny that I had come seeking anything from her. But then the question, like herself, began to intrigue me. Especially when I realized that I did in fact expect 'something' from her. I wasn't exactly sure just what that might have been, however. For the time being then, I would examine her question, as I felt it somehow important that I come up with an adequate answer for her.