Amber Campisi was bored. The party announcing Tiffany Fallon as Playmate of the Year was boring enough but this party to announce the video was worse; the place was nice, the Viceroy Hotel in Santa Monica. The party was nothing; there was a buffet and bar set up in the back but right now everybody was sitting and listening to dull speeches.
Basically it was just a press conference. No, even worse, it was commercial for the video. "Innovative photography, blah, blah, blah, award winning artist, blah, blah, beautiful girl, blah blablab." Well actually, Tiffany did look hot up on the stage in her blue dress. She looked a little nervous though too. She kept checking out the audience as if she was watching for somebody.
Amber listened to the speeches for a little while longer; she was gritting her teeth, trying to smile and look interested. A chill ran down her spine and she shook herself. She'd had enough! The beauteous girl decided to move; she needed action. Surely somebody could get her out of here. She looked hot too, dressed in a tight white halter dress that showed off her formidable body, especially her plump round breasts and thighs. She scanned the room and realized she recognized somebody, the guy standing by the large cutout of Tiffany. Wasn't it Tiffany's old boyfriend, and wasn't Tiff banned from seeing him? Amber smiled slyly; she loved bad boys.
She tried to recollect his name. Was it Greg? He was at least ten years older than her which was good; she liked older men. And he certainly was attractive: tall, built squarely like a linebacker. He looked like a Young Republican though. He was well groomed and his tight clothes showed off his powerful muscles. He looked a little scary though. Even from where she stood she could see his dark blue eyes focused on the stage like laser beams. But his hands were worse; they were big which was promising for Amber's intentions, but he kept opening and closing them slowly like he was about to strangle someone. Hmmm, rage is good; Amber jiggled her creamy body slightly developing a plan to siphon off some of that pent up frustration. Having a crazy maniac ravaging her voluptuous body would be a perfect cure for her ennui.
She shimmied over in her best vamp walk and stood so close that she bumped her hip into his. "Hi, Greg."
"Hi," he mumbled without averting his eyes from the stage.
"Hey, that's the only greeting I get?" She was a little annoyed but laughed anyway. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek." I haven't seen you in awhile."
He glanced at her for a brief moment then returned his gaze to the stage. "Oh, hi, uh, Amber...Yeah, I've been busy. I'm busy now." He turned his body away from her in a dismissive way.
Well, that was certainly a brush off! It was enough to make a girl lose confidence. Oh, well, she turned back to the crowd with a shrug of her soft shoulders. If a homicidal maniac wasn't interested in her she'd have to go in the other direction. She scanned the faces of the men in the room and it didn't take long to spot her target.
Bingo. There he was right in the first row. He was tall and thin with a terrible haircut. He was wearing a corduroy jacket even though it was late May and plenty warm. He even had in his shirt pocket a plastic pen holder with four different colored pens. He was furiously taking notes on every thing being said on stage.
Amber glided over to him; to her relief she could feel the eyes of a few dozen men checking her out. She wasn't vain at all and she didn't need the approbation of strangers; she just liked the feeling of men undressing her with their eyes, almost as much as the feeling of actually be undressed by a man.
She wiggled into the seat next to target and put her arm under his and pressed her chin into his shoulder and looked down at his notepad.
"Whatcha doing?" she whispered. The tone of her voice made the innocent question sound like a naughty suggestion; it sounded like 'Hellloooooo handsome!'
He didn't look up. "I'm writing an article for Videogeek;' it's an online magazine. My editor is a real bastard and if I don't get it in on time I'll get hell." Then he giggled at his own joke. "Actually, I'm the editor too. I'm the whole staff."
She laughed with him and put her hand on his to stop him from writing. "I've never met a reporter you know. It must be so exciting. Why don't you tell me about it."
He tried to move his pen. "Yeah OK, they're almost done. Let me finish up here."
She tossed her long light brown mane so it brushed along his cheek; her hair had gotten a lot lighter here in the California sunshine. She put her lips up to his ear. "I'll tell you a secret. All the speeches are in the press release. They even have them on a disc in the press kit." She tapped her long nail on the folder in his lap; this was the promotional kit all the reporters were given.
"Really?" he said. She chuckled quietly. It sounded like he would have said," Gee whiz." He finally turned and looked at her. "Hey, I know you," he shouted, "Your..."
"Yes, I am," she whispered softly. The people all around them were glaring and there were even glances from the stage; his outburst was so loud. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk." Without waiting for a reply she lifted him up and put her arm in his and started out the door. The glances they were getting now were from men that were amazed and jealous and unbelieving. As they walked along she rested her head on his shoulder, well actually his arm because he was as tall as Icabod Crane.
They got to the back of the room just as the speeches were ending and the crowd was breaking up anyway. People were rushing by them to get to the bar and the buffet but Amber ignored them all. "Do you have a room?"
"A room?"
"A hotel room. Are you staying here at the hotel?"
