Ash is at a party. He's aware it's a party but he can't work out which bit of the con involved standing by himself in someone's kitchen holding a pint of flat lager when he prefers beer and a quiet night with a pretty girl.
A woman is lingering around the doorway and he tenses immediately, a little flutter about his body. She's a fraction shorter than him with dark hair and rather kissable lips. He knows her but they've never been left alone to run a con before. He knows that she's not suitable, somebody once said. She walks in and starts to fiddle with the foil on a bottle of wine. She smiles at him and he reconsiders the definition of suitable and recalls they aren't his rules. Or hers.
"Seen the corkscrew?" she asks, her voice bright and well spoken.
"Uhm, try that drawer maybe?" He shrugs, not really sure where anything was. To his surprise she finds the item and gives him both, assuming that he can deal with this. He takes a moment to establish how it works to save him making an idiot of himself. Then he efficiently opens the bottle and hands it back to her.
"Thank you," she smiles, her hands touching his fingers, "do you want some?"
The lager is revolting so he nods, takes a full glass from her and joins her toast, "Cheers - to whoever is holding this party."
"Don't you know?" She asks, standing next to him. He can see the swell of her cleavage and decides she is his type. "I have no idea either, I got a little lost about why I'm here. Something to do with a rich woman. So tell me, why are you hiding in the kitchen?"
He looks at his jeans, shirt and boots for inspiration, "Passing through not hiding."
"Nobody passes through a kitchen. Where are your friends? Girlfriend, wife?" She grins up at him.
He smiles back, glad he can't recall who he arrived with if anyone, "Why the interest? You want to apply for the vacancy?"
She turned to face him and gave him a very frank appraisal, lingering on his crotch and his chest and then back up to his blushing face,"I don't know, it's too early to tell."
He leans back, looks at her, "How long does it take?"
"A few minutes," She swigs her wine.
It's his turn to appraise her and to his delight she blushes too, "Only a few minutes, what can happen in a few minutes?"
"You can kiss me and find out."
He couldn't remember which bit of the con involved kissing Stacie or indeed why he ever thought it was a bad idea but he dismissed any concerns. Her lips were plump, warm and she tasted of wine.
"You're definitely not my type." She confirms, her eyes dark and her face flushed. He is disappointed and swirls his wine in his glass to avoid meeting her eyes. "My type of man or rather the usual man I end up meeting would stick his tongue down my throat and grope my arse. You're rather different."
For some reason he knows this is right and this makes him smile, "Just for the record, I won't have objected to groping and tongues, so you know."
She runs her eyes over him again and this time he holds firm under her look, "Me too, it's a shame you're not my type."
Nevertheless, she puts down her wine and steps boldly between his legs as he leans back against the worktop. She is in close proximity to the front of his jeans. Her arms reach up around his neck and explained, "It's compulsory to enjoy ourselves at a party." And then throughly kisses him, gropes him and allows him to return the gesture.
Breathing hard, she pulls away and her eyes sparkle, "I've changed my mind, you're my type."
He picks up his coat and takes her hand, "Let's go and find out."
