Snowbunny Origins

That evening they had their usual lounge reception, an event held only for those in executive-grade rooms. The Rasa lounge, complete with a piano player, international wines, and an unofficial dress code, was a much-desired social spot for expat couples. The heat of the day was replaced by overly strong airconditioning, allowing guests to dress up in multiple layers if they wished. Formality, at least for a few hours, gave contrast to the casual pool resort culture of the day.

Typically, at least for Talia, this was a visually stunning yet socially staid affair. She had not met anyone close to her in age or outlook. Instead overly plump housewives in heavy dinner jackets and scarves followed Talia with their beady eyes as she drew the glances of their husbands one too many times.

In truth, it had become tiresome by the fourth night, though Talia never missed an opportunity to walk with a sway to her hips to the bar. She herself looked down at the women ; they fed like birds at the buffet and seemed unable to control themselves.

This evening as always, Talia treated the reception no differently, putting on a black dress that, though simple, elevated her from beautiful wife to something even more elegant.

She elected to wear simple make-up, only grazing her lips briefly with lipstick and gloss, practicing the pout in the mirror that gave her so much confidence and which reminded her of the promise she had made to herself earlier that day. She paired the dress with heels -- higher than most girls would dare -- and her favourite all-white YSL handbag.

She had surprised herself by choosing not to wear panties. In her mind, she was Tab's wife second, a strong, tall, and desirable woman first and foremost. Not wearing panties gave her a sense independence she had missed since marrying. She wasn't sure what the evening would entail, but she had resolved to do more than simple hip-swaying trips to the bar this time around.

As they left the room, the click of the door gave her a feeling of freedom, escape even. She held her head high, feeling almost feline, a panther darting into the wild. She enjoyed the feel of her toned bum rubbing bare against the expensive black dress and the way her perfume trailed after her. Tab's fumbling attempt to hold her hand was rejected, and they walked in silence, the click-clack of her heels announcing their arrival at the Rasa lounge long before the welcoming staff could see them.

As the doors were opened for them, Talia entered, and a wall of sound hit them. The heady aroma of others' perfume, open bottles of champagne, and excited chatter were all matched by the even louder sound of glances from the men and glares from their wives.

Tab disappeared almost immediately, his arm caught by another guest wanting to talk exchange rate movements during the Asian financial crisis. It didn't matter; Talia felt the eyes of the room on her, moving down to her surprisingly generous chest, the men marking her with interest, the women as competition.

Just as quickly however, the crowd returned to their drinks and conversation. Talia walked through them, cat-like and quiet. She positioned herself by the window that looked out over the adult pool she had enjoyed that morning. She took a moment to admire the sunset that came down over the Indian Ocean, curtains closing on another act. And just as she felt herself melt into the crowd, lost in her own idle thoughts, a voice whispered softly behind her, "Champagne, ma'am". The voice was deep and forceful. She recognised it immediately. With his breath on her neck, she felt the chill of the glass flute as it was presented to her from behind.

The server stayed standing behind her, and for a moment she felt invisible to the room, her hand slowly rising to accept and hold the glass. His arm placed the glass to her right side, so she could take it with almost no effort. She appreciated his thought, a simple accommodation of her.

Her fingers curled around the stem, a drop of condensation running down the glass to her finger. She felt oddly shy in that moment, her hands light and her fingers holding the class tightly, as if she might drop it. "Thank you," she said, and as she did, she saw their reflection in the lounge glass. He appeared much taller than she remembered, a black figure complementing her black dress. White skin on black, a perfect contrast..

She recalled her decision that afternoon in the mirror. She breathed once, then readjusted her stance, lightly raising her bum and pushing it up and away from herself ever so slightly. She still hadn't turned to see him, but his presence was a shadow that enveloped her, anchoring her in place. Indeed, she dared not turn around, not with so many beady eyes in the room, only a quick glance away. Instead, she raised her bum further, knowing no one could quite make out their movements given their position against the window and facing outward from the crowd, and pushed it back, ever so slightly, into the man's crotch, feeling her wet lips part almost of their own accord. They stayed like that for a moment longer; for a second, she thought she felt his movement against her bum, and then, just as quickly, he was gone.

Talia felt the sound of the room return, a second wave of hubbub hitting her. She brought the champagne to her mouth, the gloss of her lips shining in the dimmed light, and sipped, taking a larger sip than normal. She turned as she swallowed, a smile at the side of her mouth, hoping to catch sight of the server, but he was gone. The only thing left was the champagne burning her throat and a growing wetness moving down her thighs.