Crack of Dawn

She continued to examine me with eyes that were both gray and blue, deep rivers of color that had me temporarily hypnotized. Then the elevator dinged, breaking the spell. When the door opened, she stepped inside and reached a hand out to hold the door. I gathered myself and joined her inside.
She held out a long, slender hand with well-manicured fingernails. But oddly, I noticed that the nails on her middle and index fingers were cut rather short.
“I’m Fiona,” she said. “I live in unit 1200.”
I shook her hand, noticing immediately the velvety softness of her skin. Her hand was warm and dry, and her grip was firm without being overbearing. This woman had nothing to prove, and somehow that increased my feelings of inferiority.
“I’m Dawn,” I said smoothly, surprising myself that I had finally gotten a few words out without stammering.
She looked me up and down once more and spoke.
“Hello, Dawn,” she cooed as she released my hand. “Are you going all the way down?”