He strode in as expected. Midii watched as her target grabbed a corner
seat. From behind the bar she took a brandy glass and leant over her side
of the marble bar, making sure she was showing her bra from beneath the
button-down shirt from the day before.
"Red Sangria. You're showing," he said dryly, seemingly
disinterested.
"The way I figure, I get more tips,' she said with a sing-song voice.
As she gave him his drink, she smiled knowingly. No one would see that
she had spiked it.
The drink was good, better than usual. This girl was new. And hot. He wouldn't deny he was interested in her. The pub was almost empty, so she took a glass of cognac and started a conversation. " Well, you, sir, are the most recognized of anyone I've seen." "You obviously haven't been here very long." "I started Tuesday," she lied. "You a regular?' she asked, taking a long draught from her glass. "I guess so.you don't look German. Where are you from?" "Marseilles." "What's it like there?" "Like most of France. We hosted the Olympics once. And we are the number one producer of sugar beets." He chuckled. "So, you know who I am, who are you?" "Desiree`." She stroked her neck and looked at his empty glass. "Let me fill you up," she said as she reached for the Jack Daniels. "Desiree`" he repeated. * Midii crept from the bedroom. Taking her jacket and purse, she finished buttoning her shirt. Walking down the stairs to the kitchen, she tripped over her bra. "Forgot about that." she whispered to herself. As she raided the refrigerator, she thought about the night's events. Once drunk enough, he didn't say no to much. He had sung like a canary. She had gotten all the information she needed from his computer, mainly about Quatre Winner, the next target. Once you got past the doors, the Marquis Estate was pretty lax on security. A drunk Zechs Marquis had given her all his passwords, to begin with. As she tiptoed towards the door she saw the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, its contents trickling onto the white carpet. "Let him take care of it." And with that she was gone. * This time in a charcoal-gray business suit, Midii walked down the sterile- looking hall. Hair up, professional-looking makeup, and the suit changed her completely. She took a look in the mirror, repeating a mini conversation. "Who are you?" "I am Adrienne Lord." Approaching the end of the hallway, she took a deep breath and knocked on the large, mahogany door. "Come in." She opened the door to find the man that, in the space of twenty-four hours, she was to sleep with and shoot. She had never been more surprised in her life. This was no soldier. Before her stood a fragile, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, smiling.boy. She would not say he was a day older than seventeen. For a moment she thought she had the wrong person, that this was not the 04 pilot. But there was no mistake. "Tea?" he offered. She was shocked. But then she regained her character and smiled. "No, no thank you," she said sweetly and with a southern accent. "This is obviously your first time to Arabia," he said knowingly. "To Eurasia, actually. I never left the states before this." "So, you are interested in the oil trade." "Well sir, being raised in Texas will do that." * He stared at her for a long time. She played with the rim of her glass as she recalled her father's involvement with the oil capital of America. He almost didn't believe it. The way that her neck curved.. "Is the Winner Estate oil? I could swear it was." "The L4 colony cluster, actually," he replied. She nodded in agreement before resting her chin on the back of her hand again. Quatre was completely enamored with the charming southern belle. Her long, strawberry- blonde curls swirled slightly in the wind. She had taken down her hair when they had arrived at the little bistro, which was an excuse. He was tired of business and eager to see more of her. "Now I know you must be bored out of your mind by now.I do apologize.so, what's it like, growing up with that many people under one roof?"
"Well, most of them were out of the house by the time I really cared." he skated all of her questions - he had heard enough about himself. " I would never know. I had - have three brothers." "How old," he inquired. "Well, Terry must be ten, Andrew is fifteen, and Brandon is.twenty-one." Midii said, turning the French pronunciation to common-man's. "And you?" "I'm nineteen." "What a coincidence." She looked around. Everyone watched him, obviously recognizing the youngest multi-billionaire on the Continent. An idea sprang to her mind. She could make her move. "Mr. Winner," she whispered, placing her hand on his. "Quatre," he insisted "We have an audience." "Oh.do you want to.go somewhere?" * "This is going to be so easy," she thought. She had dressed down in Quatre's apartments - wearing now the infamous white button-down shirt and shorts, silently congratulating herself for wearing a black bra. He was in the other room, fixing iced tea. After once-over-ing herself, she reentered the living room/kitchen. "Nice place you got yourself here," she said from the living room. "Thanks," he relied, handing her a drink. She smiled, shifting from one hip to another. 'Oh," he said, seeing this, took her hand and led her to the couch. She sat with her legs draped over his, laying out completely. He kept to her hand. She leaned in and kissed him. Just when she was ready to go further. "I really, really like you." "Not this!" her mind screamed. "Me too," she said, trying to save the moment. She needed to get him to his weakest, most vulnerable state, and it wasn't working. Diversion! Maybe that would work.
'It's so gorgeous here" she remarked, keeping a half smile on her face. She looked out the wall-to-wall windows at the sunset. He nodded, staring at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something. " I've never seen such a beautiful sunset! How can you stand to leave this place for." "Space?" he finished for her. Her grin got even bigger. Finally he couldn't resist. He leaned over her and returned the kiss. She locked her arms around his neck and pulled herself onto his lap. "I.love you." she breathed. She let her left hand fall and deftly started unbuttoning his shirt. He tried to do the same but fumbled.
Midii pressed into his chest further and stood, leading him to the bedroom. The king-sized bed was unmade and the curtains drawn. They broke away for a moment as she raised the blinds slightly. "It's a mess." That's fine, she said, pushing him onto the bed. He looked at her curiously, then panicked. "Don't worry," she said, dropping the shirt. "I'll steer you around the curves."
The drink was good, better than usual. This girl was new. And hot. He wouldn't deny he was interested in her. The pub was almost empty, so she took a glass of cognac and started a conversation. " Well, you, sir, are the most recognized of anyone I've seen." "You obviously haven't been here very long." "I started Tuesday," she lied. "You a regular?' she asked, taking a long draught from her glass. "I guess so.you don't look German. Where are you from?" "Marseilles." "What's it like there?" "Like most of France. We hosted the Olympics once. And we are the number one producer of sugar beets." He chuckled. "So, you know who I am, who are you?" "Desiree`." She stroked her neck and looked at his empty glass. "Let me fill you up," she said as she reached for the Jack Daniels. "Desiree`" he repeated. * Midii crept from the bedroom. Taking her jacket and purse, she finished buttoning her shirt. Walking down the stairs to the kitchen, she tripped over her bra. "Forgot about that." she whispered to herself. As she raided the refrigerator, she thought about the night's events. Once drunk enough, he didn't say no to much. He had sung like a canary. She had gotten all the information she needed from his computer, mainly about Quatre Winner, the next target. Once you got past the doors, the Marquis Estate was pretty lax on security. A drunk Zechs Marquis had given her all his passwords, to begin with. As she tiptoed towards the door she saw the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, its contents trickling onto the white carpet. "Let him take care of it." And with that she was gone. * This time in a charcoal-gray business suit, Midii walked down the sterile- looking hall. Hair up, professional-looking makeup, and the suit changed her completely. She took a look in the mirror, repeating a mini conversation. "Who are you?" "I am Adrienne Lord." Approaching the end of the hallway, she took a deep breath and knocked on the large, mahogany door. "Come in." She opened the door to find the man that, in the space of twenty-four hours, she was to sleep with and shoot. She had never been more surprised in her life. This was no soldier. Before her stood a fragile, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, smiling.boy. She would not say he was a day older than seventeen. For a moment she thought she had the wrong person, that this was not the 04 pilot. But there was no mistake. "Tea?" he offered. She was shocked. But then she regained her character and smiled. "No, no thank you," she said sweetly and with a southern accent. "This is obviously your first time to Arabia," he said knowingly. "To Eurasia, actually. I never left the states before this." "So, you are interested in the oil trade." "Well sir, being raised in Texas will do that." * He stared at her for a long time. She played with the rim of her glass as she recalled her father's involvement with the oil capital of America. He almost didn't believe it. The way that her neck curved.. "Is the Winner Estate oil? I could swear it was." "The L4 colony cluster, actually," he replied. She nodded in agreement before resting her chin on the back of her hand again. Quatre was completely enamored with the charming southern belle. Her long, strawberry- blonde curls swirled slightly in the wind. She had taken down her hair when they had arrived at the little bistro, which was an excuse. He was tired of business and eager to see more of her. "Now I know you must be bored out of your mind by now.I do apologize.so, what's it like, growing up with that many people under one roof?"
"Well, most of them were out of the house by the time I really cared." he skated all of her questions - he had heard enough about himself. " I would never know. I had - have three brothers." "How old," he inquired. "Well, Terry must be ten, Andrew is fifteen, and Brandon is.twenty-one." Midii said, turning the French pronunciation to common-man's. "And you?" "I'm nineteen." "What a coincidence." She looked around. Everyone watched him, obviously recognizing the youngest multi-billionaire on the Continent. An idea sprang to her mind. She could make her move. "Mr. Winner," she whispered, placing her hand on his. "Quatre," he insisted "We have an audience." "Oh.do you want to.go somewhere?" * "This is going to be so easy," she thought. She had dressed down in Quatre's apartments - wearing now the infamous white button-down shirt and shorts, silently congratulating herself for wearing a black bra. He was in the other room, fixing iced tea. After once-over-ing herself, she reentered the living room/kitchen. "Nice place you got yourself here," she said from the living room. "Thanks," he relied, handing her a drink. She smiled, shifting from one hip to another. 'Oh," he said, seeing this, took her hand and led her to the couch. She sat with her legs draped over his, laying out completely. He kept to her hand. She leaned in and kissed him. Just when she was ready to go further. "I really, really like you." "Not this!" her mind screamed. "Me too," she said, trying to save the moment. She needed to get him to his weakest, most vulnerable state, and it wasn't working. Diversion! Maybe that would work.
'It's so gorgeous here" she remarked, keeping a half smile on her face. She looked out the wall-to-wall windows at the sunset. He nodded, staring at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something. " I've never seen such a beautiful sunset! How can you stand to leave this place for." "Space?" he finished for her. Her grin got even bigger. Finally he couldn't resist. He leaned over her and returned the kiss. She locked her arms around his neck and pulled herself onto his lap. "I.love you." she breathed. She let her left hand fall and deftly started unbuttoning his shirt. He tried to do the same but fumbled.
Midii pressed into his chest further and stood, leading him to the bedroom. The king-sized bed was unmade and the curtains drawn. They broke away for a moment as she raised the blinds slightly. "It's a mess." That's fine, she said, pushing him onto the bed. He looked at her curiously, then panicked. "Don't worry," she said, dropping the shirt. "I'll steer you around the curves."
