Chapter 7 - The Command Performance, the Waiting and the Invitation
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With her point made, Mrs. Selene turned to Kelly.
"Be a dear and give her a hand, would you, Kelly girl. There's a pretty one."
Mrs. Selene's dismissal left no room for anything except compliance and Cassidy and Kelly wandered off for the lady's room to "freshen up" Cassidy's tape job. Mrs. Selene saw them off with a benign look before she turned back to Deva and Madison with a gleaming smile.
"Best of luck, ladies. The night is still young."
After Mrs. Selene left, the silent spell of her presence, which smelled like her perfume, lingered in the air. Finally, Deva spoke up.
"I say we stick to the dance floor," Deva said with a champagne toast toward the dance floor. There the dancers ebbed and flowed like a school of fish in time with the beat. All the men there were tall and heavily muscled, like a pack of Grecian statues come to life. They were gorgeous and cocky and predatory, and they cruised around the dance floor in search of a likely female target. They all had good looks and a good number of zeros on the right side of the balances in their bank accounts. Madison knew intuitively that a girl could do a lot worse than to select a boyfriend from that bunch. "High value" were the watchwords of the night, it seemed.
"He might not be gay," Deva conceded. "But he's certainly a weirdo and why waste time on a weirdo when there is that magnificent herd of beef to choose from."
Madison's mind tripped on that word, weirdo. It gave her an uncomfortable pause as the shadow of a memory played in her head. She had heard that word before, but then she shrugged and put her glass down on the bar. Deva was right. There were plenty of gorgeous men around so why waste time on him? Why give up every woman's dream of a hot, rich young husband for a weirdo? Sure, he was an oddly attractive man with a dark gaze that made her keenly aware of her nakedness under her dress and sparked sexy little fantasies in her mind before she even knew his name, but still a weirdo. There was no reason to choose him over these other men. Right?
Fortified with champagne, Madison and Deva hit the dance floor and blended into the school of dancers that swirled and flowed with the predatory slashes of hormonal attraction. To Madison's left Adalina pranced and flashed glimpses of red panties under her blue mini dress with energetic steps to attract her customary clump of hopefuls. Her energy and laughter kept everyone on time with the music and helped everyone amp up to true party levels. To the right, Ivy cut a likely candidate out of the herd and made him the focus of several sultry hip rolls. The man did his best to keep up, but due to the hypnotic distraction of Ivy's lurid lobo eye contact he couldn't keep time with the music. Very soon he simply gave up and stared as Ivy slithered and shimmied ever closer to him, like a cobra might enchant its prey.
Cassidy and Kelly reappeared from the bathroom with Cassidy's dress securely affixed to her breasts. Lured by the appearance of so many pretty women in one place, more men homed in on them and, in short order, each woman had their choice of several of the most eligible men in the room. Madison danced with several good prospects and did her best to encourage them while she remained noncommittal, but she couldn't quite shake a sense of distraction. In the back of her mind, she knew he was still out there, clandestine and shadowed, and from time to time, in unguarded moments, she searched the crowd for him like she might search for something lost. Unfortunately, he seemed to have disappeared, so Madison energetically went through the expected motions of attraction and did her best to convince herself she was where she needed and expected to be. After all, the best men were all here on the dance floor. Right?
After two solid hours of champagne cocktails in high heel pumps on a hardwood dance floor, Madison's vision felt a swimmy, and her feet hurt. She knew from experience that this was the time of night when a tired and lonely girl full of booze could make a mistake. Already some women had allowed themselves to disappear into the night with strange men for what most likely would turn out to be an ill-considered encounter. A few of those, which included Adalina, returned to the dance floor with slightly skewed dresses and slightly smudged makeup as evidence of one of those ill-considered encounters and, a very few of those, maybe now or later, might harbor a secret regret about those ill-considered encounters.
The scent of high value possibilities always induced a certain percentage of women to take some un-calculated risks when it came to a chance to realize the Mrs. Somebody goal. To ensure she avoided that fate this evening, Madison needed a break, so when she spotted an opportune moment, she slipped away from the crowded dance floor to find a little privacy where she could rub her tired feet and clear her head with some fresh air.
Honestly, she what she really wanted was a break from the torrent of cheesy compliments and lascivious ogles she received from the all too handsy men on the dance floor. These men might be hot physical specimens of maleness who smelled good and had large positive balances in their bank accounts, but their manners were on the rough side. This was always the case with men who expected female attention like a birthright. Every girl on the floor was subject to that same treatment, although some sought it with more verve than others. Everyone except Deva.
Deva, unlike everyone else, had a literal "no-fly" zone around her on the dance floor and no man could get into it to lay a hand on her. No matter where she was on the floor, or how close others got to her, Deva was always just out of reach. Any man who tried to touch her clutched at air. Maybe it was the aura of unattainability that her gorgeousness generated that warded off unwanted attention, or maybe it was the cool, easy look in her eyes that let men know they could look all they wanted, but only from a distance, like they would admire a sculpture in an art museum. That was, Madison thought ruefully, if any of these men even knew what a museum was. Madison made a mental note to ask Deva for the secret to untouched party dances as she searched for a refuge. Since she couldn't evade as deftly as Deva, Madison had learned long ago to take little solitary breaks to recharge her social batteries to the point where she could deal with the constant hand checks again. She just needed a few minutes alone.
To that end Madison found a door that clandestinely opened out onto a small balcony. She made a furtive check to see if she was observed. The last thing she wanted was some muscle-bound hopeful to pounce at an opportunity to catch her alone with an eye towards a drearily clumsy attempt at solitary romance when all she wanted was a chance to rest and relax. Confident she was unobserved, Madison slipped outside and pulled the door shut behind her. The cool night air greeted her and muffled the music and din of gyrating bodies and finally, Madison had her quiet, solitary moment. She let out a long sigh of relief.
It was close to midnight. The thin evening breeze and the paleness of the full moon cooled the balcony. Madison gratefully kicked out of her pumps and placed them on a nearby table so she wouldn't forget them. The cool tiles of the balcony soothed her tired feet, and the cool air soothed her tipsy head. After a few breaths of midnight chilled relaxation, she strolled over to the railing to look out over the garden.
Absently, she leaned over the railing and dangled her mostly empty champagne glass over the patio below. A short distance away, a small circle of people huddled in the gazebo that held center state in the garden. There, surrounded by tiny starburst lights and early red rose buds, Mrs. Selene held court with a coterie of admirers pressed around her.
With them was the man in a tailored vest and loosened bow tie named either "Carl" or "Jason", who leaned easily against the railing off to one side with a rock glass of dark liquid in his hand and contemplated the reflection of the stars in the small pond. Something about midnight suited him and Madison's interests spun back to the front of her mind. He had rolled up his sleeves to extended the veins in the back of his hand up his sinewy forearms. Mrs. Selene said something, and everyone laughed appreciatively except for the man who only cracked a smirk.
It wasn't a smirk of derision or condescension. Instead, it was confidential and warm and under the moonlight, Madison thought it was a terribly sexy smirk. Shrouded in darkness, he oozed an effortless magnetism that beckoned out into the night. Every head in the gazebo turned his way as Mrs. Selene held her hands out to him.
"Darling, how DO you do that?"
His sexy smirk focused on Mrs. Selene. The sight of his straight teeth, full lips and the hint of a five o'clock shadow on his angular cheeks teased at Madison's libido. He smirked at Mrs. Selene just the way Madison wished someone, maybe him, would smirk at her; an appreciative smirk for her and her alone in a world full of seven billion people. Madison knew Mrs. Selene was experienced and worldly, so if Mrs. Selene gushed over him, well there was more to him than met the eye. Madison's interest began to coalesce into a tiny infatuation, as the night air tingled on her exposed skin, both visible and barely invisible.
Maybe this odd attraction was just a side effect of her champagne buzz, but Madison could not deny that attraction any longer. Nothing about him demanded attention. In fact, he had deliberately avoided attention like some kind of elusive big cat, but now Madison couldn't help but stare at him. Mrs. Selene's obvious affection for him spurred her tiny infatuation towards a tasty bit of obsession. An unladylike tendril of jealousy curled in the back of her throat and Madison's bottom lip pushed out, soft and pouty. Why was Mrs. Selene allowed to monopolize his attention? Madison hugged herself a little tighter as a shiver of evening chill and envy ran up her spine.
"Do what, my lady of the moonlight?"
His voice flowed baritone with a buttery lilt while he inclined his head to Mrs. Selene. Madison drank up the sound of his voice and pressed her thighs together, because she was cold of course, and felt another moist spider skitter of pleasure as his voice vibrated in her ears. Back in the gazebo, Mrs. Selene struck a dramatic pose with one hand over her heart while she fanned herself theatrically with the other.
