“Unexpected things take your breath away. She wasn’t just unexpected, she knocked the wind out of me and ran away laughing.”
Darius Masoud
She was waiting for me to run away.
The woman in front of me, with whom conversation was akin to playing barefoot hopscotch on hot asphalt, who walked like shoes confused her, and who smelled of a spring breeze through a field of wildflowers, expected me to turn tail and bolt.
I rarely did the expected, however, and often made choices that flew directly in the face of convention. And as nothing about this woman or this conversation was conventional, I stayed.
And I laughed.
This startled her, and she suddenly dropped to the floor in what seemed at first to be a defensive maneuver, but was actually a crouch in order to pet the cat. Her posture put her face at approximately groin height, and for the space of exactly one half-second, I considered remaining in place to see if she would notice. But chivalry got the better of me, and I knelt down beside her.
Her face flamed bright red, and for a moment I thought she was ill.
“I was just staring at your penis, wasn’t I?” she said in a tone of complete chagrin.
Rarely did I meet someone even more straightforward than myself, and I attempted a benign expression. “Were you?”
The delightful girl sighed. “I was. I’m sorry.” But then a mischievous glint came into her eyes, and she said in a perfectly benign tone, “So, what do you think about my pussy?”
I choked on a startled bark of laughter, and she allowed herself a small grin as she deliberately ran her hands through the fur of the very contented cat.
“On that note, I believe it’s time for me to find something red to drink to match the color of my face,” she said, as she rose to her feet. She wasn’t graceful about it, but she was strong and didn’t wobble until she tried to take a step. She’d managed to stand on the hem of the pink silk gown she wore and winced at the sound of her heel tearing the fabric.
“Well, now I’ve officially hit my humiliation quota for the night. Enjoy the party, Mr. Masoud,” she said brightly, as she hurried away across the room. I let her go without further comment, though my eyes tracked her as she plucked a glass of red wine from a passing tray and finished half of it in one large gulp.
Sterling Gray chose that moment to greet her. She smiled at him and said something that turned his expression predatory. My eyes narrowed at the way Gray touched her arm, and I wondered where her blush had gone. She smiled brightly, despite her pale cheeks, and he leaned in to whisper something into her ear.
Another Sterling Gray conquest, albeit an odd choice for him. Gray was predictable in his companions – slender blondes with long hair, small waists, and high breasts were favorites. And though at first glance, this one fit the requirements, her hair was unruly and verged on wild, her arms and shoulders had the kind of muscle that spoke of outdoor fitness rather than polite gym sessions, and she seemed uncomfortable with the amount of skin her dress revealed. And all of that was before she even opened her mouth.
I smirked at the memory of the least conventional conversation I had perhaps ever had. This woman was far too unfiltered and odd to be an obvious match for one of Chicago’s richest, most eligible, and most image-conscious bachelors.
I had no desire to observe the mechanics of Gray’s hook-up and turned to the bar for a mineral water. Gray’s dates were not my problem, his father’s security systems were, and I made a mental note to speak to Marcel, Gray’s butler, about the guest list. That the woman’s name was sure to be on it was not a motivating factor.
When I turned back to observe the room, Gray was standing with a couple who wore the approximate net worth of a small kingdom in clothes and jewels, and the blonde woman in the pink dress had disappeared.