Nora smoothed her way up to the bar, making use of her ample curves to gain the bartender's attention. The ceremony had been gorgeous and flawless as expected. Everything carefully orchestrated and executed. The meal divine, the reception charming and sophisticated. The bride and groom were still making their rounds, but the organized portion of the party was starting to wind down. Most of the older invitees had either left or were in the process of doing so. Ken had been a charmer as always, saying and doing all the right things, engaging with everyone they interacted with. There were just two problems, one his breeding, or lack thereof, two, he wasn't his best friend.
She placed her order to refill her champagne flute. Her date was over in the corner, tossing a few shots back with one Gary O'Neill, the best friend. The man was gorgeous, six three, broad shouldered, trim waist, both legs and arms that spoke to years of physical fitness. He was fair, she knew of Irish descent, but he managed a light tan. She could see faint freckles across his strong profile and a few on his arms, his jacket long removed, and shirt cuffs rolled up to expose his forearms. Dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes that lit up as he laughed at something Ken said and flashed an amazing smile of perfect teeth. Nora bit her lip thinking of those teeth being on her skin. She was jolted out of her gawking by hearing Ken's name from the other corner of the bar.
"My God, is there a hotter piece in the Mid-Atlantic than Ken Wheatley!?" Nora heard a sultry woman's voice let out with a sexy half whine. "I bet the man is an absolute demon in the bedroom." Nora turned her gaze to Miranda McCallister, perched on a barstool, in a long dark chocolate sleek gown that seemed to be painted over her tall goddess frame, a diamond necklace sparkled around her neck, complimented by matching earrings. Her smooth, shiny ebony hair, that was just a shade darker than the dress, framed her shoulders. She had let one heel drop to the floor and had the other perched up on the front of the bar. Another bartender, who was a woman, was hanging on her every word. Nora knew the bartender's gender didn't matter, when Miranda spoke, people were pulled in. The woman commanded attention.
She could definitely attest to Ken's demon status. She had never been fucked so hard in her life. The man was hung like a friggin stallion. The first time, she thought that he was going to ruin her, she was drunk, and he had been holding back, she could tell. She still wasn't sure that he had ever let himself completely go with her. The second time, when she had been sobber, she had been thankful for the booze induced haze on their first encounter, otherwise, she might have chickened out. Especially fully erect, he was long and thick, easily the biggest she had ever seen, and a large sac to boot. The man really did have the balls to back his attitude.
Granted they had only been casually dating for a few months, but she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for more anyway. Ken, at least to her, was a distraction, not an endgame. He wasn't unattractive, just not the near perfection and complete package that was Gary. Ken was of reasonable height at five ten, dirty blonde hair that was lighter than Gary's. He had light blue, penetrating eyes, thick eyebrows, early lines starting to show by the edges of his eyes, likely a result of too much time outdoors in the sun, and a large, straight nose. Nora was a bit surprised that it was still straight, considering she doubted highly that he hadn't been in numerous fights. Maybe he was just too good at that also, that he had never been on the receiving end of a well-placed punch. He had large strong hands sure, but she had still been surprised by the size of his dick. Within her circle of friends, the girls had all gossiped about getting a turn with him. But they all saw him as a boy toy, a fling. There was just too much pressure for all of them to marry the 'right' man to keep family legacies going.
However, Miranda, she knew, would have no such care. At least a portion of the McCallister family, and she knew Miranda was in that portion, did whatever the hell they wanted, convention be damned. The bride, Miranda's second cousin, was of the portion that did what was expected of them. Miranda's great grandfather had arrived from Scotland with only some seed money from his parents. Said parents included a baroness who had married a commoner, the apparent start of the I'll do whatever I choose legacy. An empire had been built with that seed money, combined with a good shot of Scottish obstinateness. If Miranda wanted a ride on one Ken Wheatley, she was bound to get her way. Fortunately for Nora, that was just fine, and exactly the help she needed.
Nora, like most of woman in her circle, was also used to getting what she wanted, but that didn't mean she didn't have a heart. She wasn't about to leave Ken high and dry to make a move on his best friend. However, if she could team up with Miranda, they might all get what they wanted.
The other concern was that she wasn't sure if Gary was even interested. She had known him since they were adolescents. As their parents floated in the same social circles, they had often been together at some event or other over the years. She had always thought he was cute. That attraction had only grown as they had gotten older. She had only seen him briefly in recent years, between her studies at Wharton and the start of his military career. Military service certainly didn't pay very well, but she and her family were well aware that O'Neill income stretched well beyond day to day working hours. Still, they had never so much as had a date and Gary had never made a move to ask her out, despite her subtle attempts to entice him. Maybe she needed a less than subtle approach.
She took her refilled flute from the bartender and turned to approach her hopeful partner in crime at the end of the bar.
Nora held out a manicured hand to Miranda, who stopped mid swig of her cocktail to return an equally delicate hand. Miranda swallowed, "Hello, Nora." Her brain suddenly snapped back to the remembrance that she had heard something about Nora and Ken dating, and that the blonde, nearly every man's wet dream, standing in front of her, had likely heard her. Shit.
"Hello, Miranda," Nora returned, "I apologize but I couldn't help but overhear. Might I have a word?"
Shit. Yup, she had heard her.
"Certainly, my dear," Miranda responded, sliding off the barstool. She pulled her dropped heel back on and turned to lift her drink to take it with her. She figured for this conversation she was going to need it. She might have prided herself on not always bowing to some of the archaic social norms of the high-class society she had been raised in, but she still had a sense of propriety. She and Nora needed to locate somewhere more private to have their chat. She owed the other woman an apology.