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.
