The beautiful Russian girl looked Madison in the eyes, reached out a palm and said, "Hi, are you Madison Clover?"
Madison took the girl's hand and replied hesitantly: "Y-yeah, that would be right. H-hi. I- my name is Madison, that's right." The girl half sat down, propping herself on the arm of the unoccupied swivel-chair that sat at a diagonal to her own.
"Is it true that you're the daughter of David Clover, the head of Global Crossing?" the pretty girl asked her bluntly.
The question took Madison by surprise. The girl looked to be about her own age, maybe a couple years older. It was hard to tell with Russians. Asians always looked a good five or six years younger than their western counterparts, but with Russians there was a truly indiscernible blend - but it was the same confusion of elements that so often made for their indiscernible beauty. It was just hard to pinpoint any age or defining feature in particular about them. All you knew about them was that they were young and beautiful.
Russell & Simon's had a number of Russian clients, and most of them were the same. From the point of view of a Caucasian such as herself, you would always start out expecting to connect with Russian so much more immediately than the pure Chinese, when in fact you nearly always discovered that there was so much, if not just as much uncertainty there, often lingering on long after the preliminary introduction. So many unknownables about them. So many un-variables.
What does this slut want with Daddy? Madison thought, pushing out of her mind momentarily that she happened to look great.
Madison didn't know what to say so she settled on the noncommittal. "Who's asking?"
To which came the reply: "It's OK. Just me."
"Well, then, and what if he is?"
"Then we should be friends, since there aren't that many of us about - daughters of big-time multinational executives!" The girl flashed Madison a superficial, but essentially warm, connecting smile. "My name's Claudia. My father is Chris Johnson, head of Rotsky Bank, you know ... the bank." She giggled. And then giggled some more. After a little time, Madison felt like she should probably laugh along too, so she feigned a giggle. It sounded completely fake, but Claudia didn't seem to notice.
"So what's your story?" asked Claudia. "Can I sit down?" she said, now taking up the empty seat properly, as if the question were nothing more than an annoying formality. "I mean, you're obviously at Russell & Simon's," the girl giggled again, waving her arms expansively. "But are you just interning or working?"
"Just interning. It's no big deal," said Madison genuinely. "In fact I don't think I would even have this shitty internship if it wasn't for my Dad. He knows one of the Board members or something. Essentially it's a nothing job, just chasing people about all day, but at least they have gotten me helping out in the creative department - I'd die in accounts."
"That's so cool!"
"You think so, really?" Madison assumed that Claudia was referring to her working in the creative department.
"What, that your Dad's friends with the Board? Hell, yeah! You'll get on just fine here, assuming you haven't been doing so already," Claudia said, her giggle returning a pitch higher than before.
Usually, Madison might have been tempted to walk away at this point. In Maine she would have done so, almost certainly. But she was here, alone at her desk, and she didn't have anywhere to walk to, anyway, here in this new empty providence in the East where she could only wait for her driver to come and pick her up four hours from now. Plus, she didn't have the inclination to spend more time by herself as had been the case in the months since she had arrived here, despite the mildly irritating nature of what amounted to an unnoticed mini-intrusion on her personal space.
More than that, Claudia's awesome beauty made her impossible to reject, anyway, even if they had been back in Maine, which Madison kept consciously reminding herself that she wasn't any more.
Madison doubted in fact whether a girl like Claudia ever failed to get exactly what she wanted; such was the largess of her allure. The contours of her rectangular features were rounded off with an unconventional geometric perfection into what amounted to an aesthetic smoothness that you couldn't help but stare at. The incredible contrast between her black eyes and her pale skin were set almost artfully against her long, dark hair, tastefully highlighted in soft strands of alternating Fall-browns, and her figure was a hybrid concoctions of the petite Asian slightness - the firm tits, the tiny waist - emanating out amid an almost voluptuous western European frame - the full ass, the long legs - much of which lay tantalizingly hidden by blatant high-society Manhattan fashion: the coordinated designer clothes that revealed only the contours of her cleavage and trim tummy, the long designer heels under which her tiny feet had glided with seemingly effortless propulsion over the long expansive passage towards her.
Something elemental clicked within her head and Madison realized that this here in front of her was Manhattan society. This icon was the answer to the growing level of solitary dementia that was fast becoming her days' existence. Claudia was the Manhattan scene she craved to see but which eluded her more and more every day.
"You know how it is, we just moved over here from New England, so it's not like I really have any friends to speak of. There are the people here at Russell & Simon's, but they're all about 30."
