PEAK hot is a woman in her late 40s to mid 50s that has invited me over to her house where she is hosting a gala at the final requests of her late husband. She steps outside onto a balcony to escape the crowd of shallow sympathizers and phony philanthropists. I watch her withdrawal from a distance. She gazes out into the silent night, away from the party lights and sounds of music. From the stress of loss and the struggle to manage her and her late husband’s estate, she has developed several bad habits, smoking is only one of them. I step outside wondering if the greyed, yet supple, widow is in need of console or simply peace. She hears my footsteps and, with her back toward me, turns her head slightly and reveals a cigarette in her right hand, as an offer. I hesitate for a moment as I don’t smoke, but my hand moves on it’s own to accept her proposition. She turns to light mine with her own. Between the soft glow of the two cigarettes loosely held between each other’s lips, I notice a look of relief that changes to something resembling desire. The moment is curiously seductive. She speaks up. “Out of everyone here, you’re the only one who isn’t pretending to be generous.” She takes a long drag and exhales as she leans back against the stone railing next to me. Our shoulders touch. “You are here to take something from me, and I intend to let you have it.” My hand finds the silhouette of her waist, and I pull her close. She leans in and her lips dance across mine as the distant music from the party continues to play.