A/N: Thanks so much to those of you whom have stopped to pay attention to my little story:) This is a Bruce and OC story, just in case it isn't clear. A little bit of Tony/OC in the beginning though. I'm really not the best with grammar, so please forgive me & I apologize in advance. I do the best I can. Please remember that this is rated M for a reason. However, if anyone would like to read the story without those certain parts,I completely understand so feel free to let me know. I will put a warning/separation thing, or even put it on a whole different chapter if you'd like :) Leave reviews, but no flames please. I'm not planning on becoming a writer, so chill out, this is just for fun.
The smell of piss and menstrual blood came as a smack in the face as she opened the door to the women's restroom. Her nose wrinkled, almost on its own. God, women are disgusting. It doesn't matter how much perfume you bathe yourself in. If you don't wash your puss properly, you're unavoidably going to leave a cloud of putrid odor behind you every time you drop your pants. She leaned against the white tiled wall, to wait for one of the mirrors to be free. Now she knew it was a little narrowed minded and judgmental of her to assume that all these women bent over the sinks inspecting themselves are smelly slobs but she wasn't in a good mood. Therefore, yes. They were all slobs, and have ruined the bathroom air. She tried her best to keep her breathing shallow, she felt as if she were inhaling poison and that if she breathed too deeply the smell would somehow linger inside of her and give her bad breath. What a shame too. They were all quite pretty. She grew impatient watching them adjust clothing, wipe excess lip gloss, and flip their locks this way and that. Then finally the small cinnamon skinned girl with a short black inverted bob moved to exit the bathroom. As she approached the mirror the red head to her right gave a quick glance and smiled. Was she expecting one back? This young woman was in no mood for smiling. I hate these kind of targets. Too important to ever be left unguarded, with their fancy security systems and Spartan-esque team of bodyguards. I haven't had to get up close and personal to a target since I was sent to kill the head of that huge Russian company, and that was almost four years ago. She hated all this undercover playing the part shit. She would much prefer to get to things done from the outside looking in. Much less chance of leaving things behind, there was no need to have to act like she was gunnin for an Oscar, and well, let's just face it. It's a hell of a lot easier. How very lazy of me. Looking at her harlot of a reflection only deepened the miserable hate for this target. She was ridiculous as a blonde. It just didn't suit her, at all. Of course, a typical billionaire womanizer. Busty blonde, with blue eyes and half a brain. The colored contacts were beginning to itch, almost as bad as the wig. The bra she had on was terribly uncomfortable, but then again something designed to make one's breast look five times larger isn't expected to feel like kittens and candy. Her make up although nicely done, was entirely too much for her. How 85% of women performed that daily ritual of blush, eye shadow, lipstick, and mascara, was something she would never understand. The dark green cocktail dress was suffocating and although classy to most, was distasteful and slutty in her eyes. She felt a strong streak of defiance suddenly and ripped off the expensive wig. The other girls' eyebrows all raised at once, the glare she returned them with was enough for them to keep their eyes in front of them. She let loose her long dark hair, and took a minute to remind herself that it's what was necessary. This had nothing to do with who she was and was not a reflection of herself, it is only a part she is playing. She felt a lot better after reassuring herself that. She then quickly ran through the layout of the lounge in her head, looked at the time on her expensive looking watch and decided she would stumble upon her target at the bar near the VIP area. If all her careful planning and calculating was correct he should have arrived close to twenty minutes ago and is close to finishing all his small talk and mingling with the less important people, leaving him about ready to head to reserved area. If he doesn't already have a pretty little accessory whispering unholy things in his ear, this should be smooth sailing for her. But if he does, well then it's a good thing she's in the mood to be a bitch tonight. What can ya do? She scooted her saran wrap of a garment up a little higher on her thighs, and would've lowered the neckline too but thought it best not to. If she did one might've popped out. Exiting the bathroom was a world of relief for her nostrils. She weaved through the throng of the rich and beautiful, until she laid eyes on the richest and not so beautiful. He was exactly where she thought he'd be, and without arm candy. Yes, I think I might be home in time for That Metal Show.
He was talking with a tall dark skinned man that had the devil in his smile. She decided she was not going to be so discreet, the quicker she got this over with the better. She waltzed up behind the man and slipped to his left leaning against the bar. In perfect view of both her target and his companion. She figured if Mr. Big Shot didn't take the bait, she would try to spill her drink on his friend, give him a nice view of the girls and that should do it. If he didn't pick up on how desperately her outfit was begging for male attention, then there's no way he could be as smart as he's believed to be. She turned to order from the bartender, taking her hands off the counter as she realized it looked quite gross.
Tony did his best to appear interested in Glen's sorry business offer. He only tried because he happened to like the guy when he wasn't being a salesman. He could be a hell of a good time when he had few drinks in him. "You know what Glenn, that doesn't sound too bad. I can't give you an answer just yet though, I'll need some time to think about it. Hey how about we mull over it some more later when our minds are clear and swimming in liquor" And queue the wink.
His dreads jingled like sleigh bells as he tossed his back chuckling.
"Alright Tony, but I'll hold you to it", he pointed his finger glowering a bit, but smiling that sinister smile of his.
"So I hear you and Pepper are ah…"
Back together. Or at least that's what he would've said had his attention not been snatched by the woman ordering a drink in a tight green dress. Jeez, and I thought my mind hopelessly revolved around women.
She noticed immediately that they didn't seem to be talking anymore the moment she slipped within view. Could it really have been that easy?
Glenn stared shamelessly making an O with his mouth and knitting his eyebrows.
"Daaamn girl, makin that dress work hard"
She sighed in defeat. Leave it to the black guy to blatantly point out evidence of all those late night trips to Taco Bell. Tony snorted and tried to suppress a bark of laughter for the girl's sake. She turned around smirking. Now it was Tony's turn to stare. She felt his gaze shift shamelessly right where she wanted it to. "You know if you had at least tried to address me with some manners, I just might've let you give it a lil squeeze."
"Well seeing as how you were going to let me do that, then there really isn't a reason to talk to you like a lady, because you obviously are not. You want respect, how about actually wearing clothing?"
Damn, hit me where it hurts. In a normal instance she would have a few things to say to that. No, actually, she wouldn't. But the Glock 26 strapped to her inner thigh might. She had to mentally pause, and reassess what would come out of her mouth next.
He's not really speaking to you, he's speaking to your character of the night.
She let out a giggle that would put a schoolgirl to shame; Clueless worthy.
"Well since you have such a bold way with words," she leaned in close enough to where she could smell the flavor of his toothpaste," how about no clothes and you can disrespect me all you want".
She unleashed another round of giggles, tilting her head up and rocking from one foot to another, adding just the right amount of drunk to that cackle. He scoffed and curled his lip back.
"You're disgusting"
"Your friend doesn't seem to think so" Tony's eyes were still glued to her chest. She straightened a bit but still kept the artificial haze in her eyes and spoke a little clearer. She wanted to appear loose and feelin all kinds of nice, but not trashed and unmanageable, or he wouldn't want to bother.
Tony met her big glossy eyes.
"No actually I do, but lucky for you I happen to be repulsive myself", he gave a wolfish smile.
Finally, something to do tonight. But as she clumsily swayed over to him and he kept her eye contact he noticed something. Her eyes were glossy, but they weren't swimming. With how she was now mumbling nonsense in his ear and laughing at everything and nothing she should have that familiar look in those big blue irises. This girl wasn't drunk. In fact she was barely buzzed. His guess was the gloss in her eye was natural, not alcohol induced. Why the act then? What was this girl getting at? He waltzed over to his reserved seating with her slightly staggering by his side. He ordered a bowl of bar nuts before gazing into her suspect orbs again. They were quite nice to look at. Very easy to get lost in. Something on the back burner of Tony's mind was telling him that something wasn't right. And not to ignore it. She barked another hair raising giggle, and he noticed how different the shade of blue was, far nicer than the green of her dress. Maybe she's high. Yeah that's it, she's just stoned. Well, Tony never has been the intuitive type.
