* * * * * * * * *
Gray sat beside her, so close that his arm was now touching hers. He bought her a drink, as he had promised, they sipped their drinks quietly studying each other.
She watched him swallowing his drink and wasn't quick enough to stop herself from comparing him to Michael, and of course finding him somewhat lacking, although they had hardly exchanged more than a few words. For the only real reason was that Gray wasn't Michael. But he looked like a good man, and plainly not someone who ran around chasing every skirt he saw. Someone she might even enjoy knowing.
'' So Gray, are you from there? ''
'' Oh God no. Nobody comes from The Big Apple '' He replied '' I hate big cities. It's all the same little apartments and way too chaotic. I'm here to follow a project for a friend. I'm an architect.''
He said last word with the same amount of pride that Bush might have used to tell to his family that he was just elected President. Gray must really love what he did for living, and it showed.
Nikita liked passion in a man. It was part of why she was fallen so hard for Michael: He needed to do what he did best, and nothing could stop him.
She wasn't really surprised to see Michael's face sneaking into her thoughts again, even if she wasn't pleased; actually, she was beginning to think that she would never rid him from her mind even if her life depended on it.
A sweetly painful habit that she wasn't ready to break. It unnerved her as few things could.
Gray talked and talked about his great passion for buildings and church's, seemingly unaware that she was completely unable to follow the very one sided conversation, and not because she didn't want to or didn't try.
Simply, her mind was so tired of everything that her thoughts refused to be properly channeled, and continued to drift on other subjects, namely Michael.
At the same time, she was so tense that sleep would elude her showing no mercy, even if all she craved were the comfort of her bed.
But it wasn't her bed that she needed. She needed contact. With something, or someone.
Nikita looked at Gray Wellman knowing all too well that what she wanted from him wasn't listening his small talk.
'' I love this song, would you like to dance? ''
She asked him, playing casually with a strand of her pale blonde mane, touching him lightly on his arm with her elbow.
She didn't really know the song, but it was almost slow and she wanted to dance. She hadn't danced in such long time.
In response, he smiled shyly and passed his hand through his spiky hair as he assured her that he wasn't a good dancer, but he'd love it, if she was willing to take the risk of having her feet slowly massacred.
'' I'll take the risk. '' - She told him, thinking not for the first time that she genuinely would liked to get to know him better.
He led her on the dance floor, their bodies' coming in contact was awkward at first, but it was well hidden in the frenzied rhythm of the music. When Gray took her in his arms, Nikita didn't refuse him.
In fact, the quick traveling of his hands along her back was exactly the attention that she needed.
Dancing, her body moved away from his and came close again. Then, suddenly, the touch of the Gray's hands became less shy, more extensive and lingering.
He kept her closer than she was actually comfortable with, but she didn't protest.
It was just when Gray started to kiss her collarbone and neck, that she noticed they had stopped dancing, and was still in a corner.
It occurred her that she had drunk two or three drinks more than she usually did, and much stronger drinks then she was used to.
And judging from the smell of his panting breath on her mouth, her new friend had done the same.
Gray kissed her hard, and it was a good kiss, which she only half participated in.
Nikita had never believed in cold kisses, but this was it: a good, cold kiss.
Just as unexpectedly as it began, it was over, along with his patronizing caresses.
Gray pushed her away from him, as if he had came to his senses in that exact moment, and slowly touched his lips with his fingertips, almost as if he could not believe what he had just done.
" I'm sorry, but I can't do this. '' - he told her with evident agitation in his voice, the plain features of his face very upset, almost panicked.
At her disbelieving expression, he hurriedly shoved his hand in his pants pocket, and took out from it a small, shiny item.
'' I'm a married man '' - he added showing her a golden ring perfectly distinguishable as a wedding band even in the half-light.
Nikita looked at the ring, then looked back at Gray and, finding herself at a lose of witty or sarcastic comebacks for one of the few times in her life, and finding the situation definitely too absurd for words, did the alone thing that made sense for her to do.
She drew her hand back and slapped Gray, with a whack so powerful that his head snapped back.
Then, without a word, she turned her back on him and, taking with her the last shreds of her mortified dignity, went proudly in search of the ladies room.
Gray sat beside her, so close that his arm was now touching hers. He bought her a drink, as he had promised, they sipped their drinks quietly studying each other.
She watched him swallowing his drink and wasn't quick enough to stop herself from comparing him to Michael, and of course finding him somewhat lacking, although they had hardly exchanged more than a few words. For the only real reason was that Gray wasn't Michael. But he looked like a good man, and plainly not someone who ran around chasing every skirt he saw. Someone she might even enjoy knowing.
'' So Gray, are you from there? ''
'' Oh God no. Nobody comes from The Big Apple '' He replied '' I hate big cities. It's all the same little apartments and way too chaotic. I'm here to follow a project for a friend. I'm an architect.''
He said last word with the same amount of pride that Bush might have used to tell to his family that he was just elected President. Gray must really love what he did for living, and it showed.
Nikita liked passion in a man. It was part of why she was fallen so hard for Michael: He needed to do what he did best, and nothing could stop him.
She wasn't really surprised to see Michael's face sneaking into her thoughts again, even if she wasn't pleased; actually, she was beginning to think that she would never rid him from her mind even if her life depended on it.
A sweetly painful habit that she wasn't ready to break. It unnerved her as few things could.
Gray talked and talked about his great passion for buildings and church's, seemingly unaware that she was completely unable to follow the very one sided conversation, and not because she didn't want to or didn't try.
Simply, her mind was so tired of everything that her thoughts refused to be properly channeled, and continued to drift on other subjects, namely Michael.
At the same time, she was so tense that sleep would elude her showing no mercy, even if all she craved were the comfort of her bed.
But it wasn't her bed that she needed. She needed contact. With something, or someone.
Nikita looked at Gray Wellman knowing all too well that what she wanted from him wasn't listening his small talk.
'' I love this song, would you like to dance? ''
She asked him, playing casually with a strand of her pale blonde mane, touching him lightly on his arm with her elbow.
She didn't really know the song, but it was almost slow and she wanted to dance. She hadn't danced in such long time.
In response, he smiled shyly and passed his hand through his spiky hair as he assured her that he wasn't a good dancer, but he'd love it, if she was willing to take the risk of having her feet slowly massacred.
'' I'll take the risk. '' - She told him, thinking not for the first time that she genuinely would liked to get to know him better.
He led her on the dance floor, their bodies' coming in contact was awkward at first, but it was well hidden in the frenzied rhythm of the music. When Gray took her in his arms, Nikita didn't refuse him.
In fact, the quick traveling of his hands along her back was exactly the attention that she needed.
Dancing, her body moved away from his and came close again. Then, suddenly, the touch of the Gray's hands became less shy, more extensive and lingering.
He kept her closer than she was actually comfortable with, but she didn't protest.
It was just when Gray started to kiss her collarbone and neck, that she noticed they had stopped dancing, and was still in a corner.
It occurred her that she had drunk two or three drinks more than she usually did, and much stronger drinks then she was used to.
And judging from the smell of his panting breath on her mouth, her new friend had done the same.
Gray kissed her hard, and it was a good kiss, which she only half participated in.
Nikita had never believed in cold kisses, but this was it: a good, cold kiss.
Just as unexpectedly as it began, it was over, along with his patronizing caresses.
Gray pushed her away from him, as if he had came to his senses in that exact moment, and slowly touched his lips with his fingertips, almost as if he could not believe what he had just done.
" I'm sorry, but I can't do this. '' - he told her with evident agitation in his voice, the plain features of his face very upset, almost panicked.
At her disbelieving expression, he hurriedly shoved his hand in his pants pocket, and took out from it a small, shiny item.
'' I'm a married man '' - he added showing her a golden ring perfectly distinguishable as a wedding band even in the half-light.
Nikita looked at the ring, then looked back at Gray and, finding herself at a lose of witty or sarcastic comebacks for one of the few times in her life, and finding the situation definitely too absurd for words, did the alone thing that made sense for her to do.
She drew her hand back and slapped Gray, with a whack so powerful that his head snapped back.
Then, without a word, she turned her back on him and, taking with her the last shreds of her mortified dignity, went proudly in search of the ladies room.