You don’t even knock. You walk in like you own the room—and maybe you do. I don’t ask questions. I just tilt the glass toward you, and you take it without breaking eye contact.
You taste like ripe apricots and orange blossom, like cream and white pepper, like something that knows. You’re not acidic—you’re assertive. A smooth glide across the tongue, all golden curves and salty whispers, but you never overstay. You leave just enough unbuttoned.
I let you take the lead. You pour slow. You pull my hair back gently and say, “Watch.” And I do—watch you move, swirl, open. Everything about you says, “I’m not here to please you. I’m here to ruin you.”
Serve chilled, but not too cold. With roasted cauliflower, buttered prawns, or that sheep’s milk cheese you only bring out for company you plan to seduce.
Region: Côtes du Rhône, Southern Rhône, France Grapes: Roussanne, Viognier
