Revenge is a dish best served cold.
Oh, Lisa does know this too well. She can taste the sweetness of the revenge she is about to achieve.
She adjusts the small straps on her skin tight Cleopatra dress. The black wig lays smooth, covering her shimmering golden blonde hair. Bright blue eyes stare back at her from the mirror, nothing like her cat-like green eyes she is used to seeing.
How she loves costume parties, a reason to be someone different.
A dusting of gold powder across her skin, perfumed with pheromones to help her cause, and a golden mask to slide over her face concludes her preparations. She wants no one to recognize her tonight, least of all him.
It was not that long ago, just a year, but a man like him seldom remembers hearts he has broken along he way. He turned on his charm, showing his gentlemanly ways. She was immediately taken in by him. He used her and left her, feigning a previous broken heart, and a lack of interest on his part, even though he was the one to pursue her. During nights of crying into her pillow, and trying to mend her own now broken heart, her plan formed.
A touch of golden lip-gloss sliding across her lips, she takes a last glance in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom and into the crowded room.
Her body glides past people dressed in all sorts of costumes, but her eyes only scan the crowd for one man, and he is not hard to find.
Leaning up against the wall, cloaked in a long brown trench coat and fedora, she knows his look right away. Classic and classy, he draws attention with the simplicity. No mask covers his handsome face. He wants all the women to be able to look at him. A glass of scotch rests between his fingers as he leans on the bar, his eyes slowly caressing over a woman with her back to him. She is dressed as Marilyn Monroe (how unoriginal).
Lisa lets her sandaled feet slide across the polished floor without a sound, being careful not to draw attention to herself, though she feels a dozen pairs of eyes on her already. But tonight she is only interested in one man. The white dress brushes against her legs, sending shivers of excitement through her. She can feel the wetness slick between her thighs, having left her panties at home this time.
“Mr. Bogart”, her voice is low and sultry as she slides up beside him, her eyes twinkling past the holes in the mask.
“Ah…a lovely Cleopatra. How does a man like me come into such luck?” He raises her hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across it.
A blush threatens to creep across her cheeks, but she just smiles slyly. “It seems that I am the lucky one tonight sir, to have found you…unoccupied.”
A deep chuckle erupts from his throat, still not letting go of her hand. “That is not such a rare thing.” He tucks her hand in the crook of his arm, making her edge closer to him. “May I buy you a drink tonight?”
“White wine.” She simply pats his arm, not pulling away. She has his interest, and his attention. She can feel his heat through the cloth of his sleeve. The white shirt has been unbuttoned at the collar already, and the tie loosened to offer relief from the warmth of the room.
The bartender places the glass on the bar, and the gentleman pushes a bill across the marble, not saying a word, or looking her way. His fingers wrap around the stem of the glass and he hands it to her, making sure that their fingers brush against each other. He picks up his glass and steers her to the large glass doors on one wall, and she follows, knowing his moves.
He needs to feel he is in control, to have a woman follow his lead without questions. And she offers just what he wants from her, knowing she will get all she wants in just a bit.
The doors opens up into a lush garden, filled with an assortment of bushes and flowers, lampposts placed to cast light and shadow where it was needed and where it wasn’t. Benches are set far enough apart, some in the light for those couples who wanted to be seen together, and less lit ones for those who want to get to know each other a bit better. The latter type is the one she was hoping he would pick, and he did not disappoint her.
She sits beside him, taking a sip of her wine. Her eyes capture his as she licks at her lips. She watches his gaze flicker down to peek at her tongue as it snakes between her glistening lips. His body leans into hers.
“You seem familiar,” his warm breath brushing her skin as he whispers in her ear. His lips caress her neck, and she feels him inhale the scent of her body.
“I am sure you must be mistaken, sir.” Her fingers run up his trouser covered thigh, letting her palm rest heavy on his leg.
She feels his hand reaching up to cup her opposite cheek, gently tilting her head to give his lips access to her bare throat. His tongue runs up, touching softly to her earlobe, before continuing along her jaw line. Backing away just a bit, he looks deeply into her eyes, seeing the lust she feels, before leaning in to press his lips to hers. First they touch softly, before he deepens the kiss, showing his urgency.
His hand moves up her ribs, feeling her nipple strain beneath her silky dress. She has thought to leave them free, knowing how much this would spur on his lust. Grasping one between his fingertips, the nipple is tugged and twisted expertly. She lets a soft moan come from her throat.
