Again, for Heather, with love
Garrett Kray expected to be bored. He had flown across Canada on a whim, and had spent the weekend being having his every whim indulged by the Ferrari Formula One Team. He had recently bought an Italian Media Company, and discovered that he was now a sponsor and major contributor to the Ferrari Team. He had been given a magical laminated pass that he had to wear around his neck, and allowed him access to every part of the Montreal Race Track and its environs.
Unfortunately Garrett, like most North Americans, knew little to nothing about Formula One. He had some knowledge of NASCAR; but this European form of motor racing was far more complicated. Almost everywhere earnest men in coveralls wore frowns spoke about hundredths of a second in hushed tones. While pretty girls, like in NASCAR, seemed to wear swimwear and smiles, and sponsors like him were feted and their every need catered for.
With the race over, he had expected to be free of the circus that calls itself Formula One. He wanted to fly back over Canada to watch his Hockey team, the Utah Howlers play in Winnipeg against the Winnipeg Bears. He discovered that he would have to delay his escape from this motorsport monotony because he and other major sponsors were expected to join the team for an evening at the Casino de Montreal, where he was to host a table for the public who had literally paid thousands of Dollars to get up and personal with the Ferrari Team.
Barely an inch under average height, Garrett had wide shoulders and an athletic build. His brown hair was immaculately coiffed to compliment his good looks. His eyes were green and slightly hooded, as if he squinted at the world from down the barrel of a rifle. In an expensive Tuxedo he sat at a table with a pair exotic car salesmen who at first competed with one and other in trying to sell him a Ferrari, or something equally luxurious; and two empty chairs. When they realised he wasn't going to buy anything from either of them, they began an intense and slightly drunken discussion on the day's race and various Formula One intricacies that bored Garrett into a morose silence. He glanced at his Rolex, two hours of purgatory to go. According to the organisers, the empty chairs were to be filled by winners of a competition, a certain Ms Shaver and partner.
With the first hour gone Garrett stared in gloomy silence at the empty chairs in front of him and considered Ms Shaver and her partner to be two of the luckiest people in Montreal that evening; the party was lacklustre. The food was bland, music from an orchestra was boringly dull and old fashioned, the small talk stilted and irrelevant. Every women in the vicinity was either attached or for sale, neither of which appealed to Garrett who still single at thirty, who knew attached women seldom fulfilled the promise they invited without a whole lot of repercussions and the ones for sale were never worth the price they believed they set for themselves.
The boredom evaporated, when the empty chairs were filled by two very pretty young women. "Hi I'm Misty, this is Nex." The shorter of the two introduced herself and her companion before continuing. "Boy are we ever late, what did we miss?" She asked.
Both girls were in their early to mid twenties and slightly tanned. Misty had long reddish brown hair. Her eyes were a warm chocolate brown, her nose was slightly freckled. Her mouth was wide and mobile. She was dressed in a yellow-gold off the shoulder evening gown of gossamer yellow-gold silk, so sheer if you concentrated on the low-cut bust, her nipples became clearly discernible through the diaphanous fabric, even in the ambient light of the ballroom.
Misty's slightly taller companion was equally pretty, whose shoulder length platinum blond hair was worn in an identical style to her friend's. Her green eyes were bold and her smile warm and friendly. She had poured herself into a red silk evening dress, again similar in design and cut to the one worn by Misty. Nex's breasts were much larger than Misty's and the low front of her dress somehow just managed to maintain decorum. Unlike Misty's Nex's nipples proudly pressed themselves outward through the sheer silk containing them. Garrett expected them to pop out any second. Idly, Garrett wondered, because of the similarities and obvious familiarity if they were related or gay.
Both girls sat down without fuss, and smiled happily after the introductions had been made. The two car salesmen perked visibly, their boring discussion completely forgotten. A waiter sidled by and soon they had each girl held a glass of Champaign. After a while the car salesmen realised they had no chance of selling either girl a sports car since both feigned disinterest and starred pointedly at the wedding rings on both men's fingers. Their next tactic was to ply the girls with liquor. Soon there was a line of still filled Champaign glasses in front of both the girls; it became obvious that the girls were not there for the booze either. They remained polite and friendly, and wet their lips occasionally rather than sipped, as the pair of hopefuls opposite them became increasingly intoxicated by the local excuse for French Champaign.
