Not that it surprised him. Women loved his bike - it attracted them like flies, at least a considerable number of them. It had always been a great resource for flirting - among other of his personal qualities which, because of who he was and what he’d lived, he’d never had too much time or interest in developing.
Through the curtains that covered the stained-glass window of the café, he could barely see the woman's face - a tall, slender, and beautifully shaped woman, wrapped in tight jeans and a matching jacket. She had splendid long brown hair, braided in a ponytail that reached almost the end of her back. She moved with grace, like a feline, like a shoal in the sea.
Well, maybe her face was ugly, though that wouldn’t decrease her merit at all.
The woman did