Thirty -seven

In her black loose bottom pants, a grey silk top, a fitted black leather jacket and black combat boots, Serena matched her way into the backroom of the gallery, by passing a beautiful painting of the sea and a green viper in it.

She reached a room where a man had been restrained: arms tied to the back of a chair. She got sight of his well muscled tone back partially covered by curls of dark hair. 

Apart from the chair on which he sat, there was a rectangular table that was placed directly in front of him. On it was a small briefcase and nothing more.

She dropped her own bag on one side of the table then supported herself in the middle of the table; half sitting, half standing, with her hands folded under her breast giving a little lift and a better view of her cleavage, right in his face.

But he didn't care. Neither did she.

The minute her eyes coincided with those dark sapphire blue orbs