The Event
An excerpt from the novel to be published by Domhan Books of Ireland. 
All rights reserved by the author and Domhan Books.)

Greg Farnum 

Chapter 1: The Thing

"Things certainly have changed," he said, handing his drink to a passing waiter and wrapping his arm around her. From the middle of the ceiling the 70s cum 30s disco ball threw revolving squares of silver light on the thin satin of the black dress that draped her almost too full form. Traveling on to the other dancers, the light glittered fitfully on the diamonds of the women and a few of the men.

"Sure have," said the spiky haired blond with the glint in her eye. "This used to be just statues and things, historical plaques and old wood. No display screens. No lasers. No holograms. Real old-timey. I like it better like this," she said, resting her cheek against his. Bold little thing, he thought. About twenty-one. She had sought him out, asked him to dance.

He felt the almost too smooth smoothness of her cheek and his nostrils came alive to her scent, augmented by her artfully daubed perfume. Where had she placed it? Behind her ears? On the nape of her neck? You could usually get a clue. Though mingled, a woman’s perfume could usually be differentiated from the subtle sweetness of her warm flesh. But it was a matter of degree -- they commingled: the woman was the scent and the scent, natural or applied, was the woman. At least if things were going right. And they were. He ran his hand across the small of her back, warmth greeting his flesh through the satin. She responded like women sometimes do. Like a Japanese poem. Like the dawn.!          Next page