A Couple of Tigers
"Ms Campbell, may introduce you to Major Wolfe?"
Serena spun around, the call of her name piercing through the hubbub of small conversation and tired introductions. Turning on her heel, a glass of mediocre red wine in hand and a shawl draped over her arm, her practiced smile resumed its dutiful task. Her poised expression was shaken as she came face to face with her own dense presumption.
"Major BERENICE Wolfe, meet Ms Serena Campbell, one of my former MBA students from Harvard and a brilliant surgeon." Professor Howard Flemyng entreated Serena to move closer to the bar, a light hand on her elbow as he moved her towards the woman perched on a barstool. Turning her head gracefully to the approaching acquaintances, the Major's smirking smile seemingly revealed a thousand instances of being mistaken for an old male army major with a handlebar moustache.
"Bernie," the blonde insisted, offering a hand while leaning casually against the bar and blatantly enjoying Serena's surprise.
"Nice to meet you...Bernie." Serena accepted the handshake, trying to suppress the redness she could feel creeping onto her cheeks. Bernie let go first, moving a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She then looked away, sipping her whiskey as she did so, apparently more interested in the rest of the gathering.
"Major Wolfe is here under a similar capacity as you, to see if we can stamp out the same inefficiencies riddling the NHS that also affect Her Majesty's army," clarified Professor Flemyng.
"It helps that I'm a trauma surgeon too. Don't worry, I won't be suggesting 6am drills on your wards!" Bernie joked tiredly, pre-empting the bewildered questions she had be receiving from consultants all evening.
"Thank heavens for that," scoffed Serena, "I'm all for cutting the wheat from the chaff, but you certainly won't catch me doing press-ups before my rounds." She brought her glass to her lips, eyeing Bernie to gauge her reaction. She delighted at Bernie's throaty laugh.
"Excuse me, ladies." The professor excused himself, spotting another introduction to be made across the room. Both women nodded vaguely in his direction as he disappeared into the bustling black tie crowd, their gaze remaining firmly on one another.
"You have nothing to fear Ms Campbell. If anything, I shall be seeking advice from you. I'm hoping to attend your lecture tomorrow on business leadership in the public sector. I'm looking forward to you solving all our problems." Bernie rose from her seat at the bar, moving closer to her new companion. The soldier stood, straight-backed and graceful. Only slightly taller than Serena, she still domineered Serena's vision, the sight of her suddenly closer was unnervingly heady. The near stranger wore a black beaded v-neck dress that cut luxuriously down a slightly tanned chest.
"That's a shame; I've always thought I looked rather stylish in khaki. And it's Serena, I insist." She eventually replied, hoping her new friend hadn't caught her staring.
"I'm sure you would. Another?" Bernie proffered, as a waiter passed by with a tray of glasses, filled with red or white wine.
"Of course. Thank you. It's certainly not Shiraz, but one can't be too fussy at these things." She took the glass from Bernie's hand, their fingers slow to retreat. Bernie downed the remaining drops of her drinks, and disappeared briefly to claim another. Serena stood, suddenly bereft, and utterly frustrated with herself for feeling so. Moments later, the soldier's voice was at her ear, as her new acquaintance appeared from behind her, glass replenished with honeyed liquid: "So tell me, Serena, how do you suggest I go about making my trauma unit more efficient in a war zone?"
"Well, a field hospital or a badly organised primary care trust, every hierarchy has its tyrants and warmongers that need to brought down a peg or too." Serena quipped, cringing at her own crude analogy. She slid a hand through her shoulder-length hair, feeling suddenly warm.
"My, my, remind to never go into battle against you." Bernie teased, moving them to a quieter corner. She was certainly a master at ensuring your complete and utter attention.
"Oh, no. Something tells me we're equals. I think you'd give as good as you got." Serena reassured, watching as the soldier's lips pouted in amusement and intrigue of equal measure.
"I'll hold you to that."
Their faces were close now. It never occurred to the two women to ask if either of them were attached.