John liked the finer things in life, fancy cars, fine champagne, huge houses and of course, beautiful women. He was quite the Don Juan for a man his age. At 52, he stood 6'3, a strapping 250 lbs with gorgeous silver hair and hypnotizing blue eyes. All the women wanted him, even their daughters. John had always been an upstanding member of his community, well respected, loved and extremely popular. So it was no surprise that he had a different woman on his arm for each social function.
One muggy August night John escorted a beautiful older woman to a fund raiser. Of course everyone's head turned when they entered the room. All the women were envious of the lucky woman who had caught John's eye. All night they danced, laughed and became the life of the party after a few glasses of wine. John's date excused herself to go powder her nose, leaving him alone at the table. He did his normal job of working the room, trading quips with the other males, comparing dates.
But his attention soon was turned to a gorgeous young woman who entered the room, alone. He was speechless by her beauty. She was like an angel standing there in a long flowing red gown, her long red hair put up in a sweeping style off her neck, her gorgeous green eyes sparkled as they caught the lights from the chandelier. She was an 18 year old sex siren and she knew it. He wasted no time asking one of the waiters who the beautiful young woman was.
"Oh that's Skye," replied Andrew, the head waiter, also a close friend of the family.
John smiled as he got up from the table to introduce himself. But he was stopped by his date for the evening.
"John, where are you going in such a hurry darling?"
"I'm sorry Betty, there's someone I need to speak to, go back to the table and I'll join you in a bit," he answered.
She smiled and kissed his cheek before making her way back to the table with the other guests.
"Hello dear," he said, walking up to the young vixen, "My name is John."
She smiled coyly as she began to blush,"Hello John, I'm Skye."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Skye," he said before kissing her soft hand.
She giggled as she watched him take her hand into his.
He became intoxicated by the taste of her skin, the smell of her perfume.
"Won't you join me at my table, Skye?," he asked, smiling.
"Thank you John, I'd love to but I must find my father, Mr. Gordon," she answered.
"Marshall is your father?" John asked, surprised.
"Yes, yes he is," she said, smiling.
"He never told me he had such a beautiful daughter," said John, flirtingly.
"Come with me Skye, your father is at my table."
She followed the tall handsome stranger to his table where she was greeted not only by her father but, what seemed to be, the cream of the social crop.
