I bow before the lovely Scattered21 and Kjwrit for putting up with my endless number of mistakes and my lack of writing experience.

Warning: Stop reading this if you want to keep wearing your rose-colored glasses. This chapter contains harsh truths about men. There are exceptions to these rules of course, but in my opinion they are just that – exceptions.

Fast Approaching Death

4. The truth behind those masks

SPOV

After the long-winded afternoon that I spend as the recipient of too many unwelcome stares from the boys at the business meeting, I change into much more inconspicuous clothing - loose fitting jeans, an oversize light blue hoody, and my hair held back in a low ponytail.

I loathe their attention! I so wish I could be invisible now, just a fly on the wooden wall.

Glasses with various spirits are emptying like a charm around me. Have you ever been the only sober one in a group? It's surreal and sickening, like a bad play turning swiftly into a freak show.

I'm trying to blend into the surroundings while eating my papanaşi. I love these sweet cheese donuts with sour cream and raspberry jam. Right now I can't stomach anything else.

Forced to sit with my companions that too quickly befriend the local gypsy music band, singing totally off key along with them, and this place is making me uncomfortable. I don't fancy any kind of stuffed animals, and the lifeless gaze in the glass eyes of the wild boar head above our table, seems fixated on me. Should I start worrying for my sanity? Guess it is already a bit late for this realization.

I turn to Miron sitting next to me and, in a lame attempt to make some small talk, I ask him about his meal.

"It is deer venison with dried plum sauce. Melts in your mouth, ya know? Wanna' taste of it?" He purrs in an alcohol-laced voice.

Since he is most likely thinking of an entirely different kind of savory pleasure I go for "Oh, I can't eat a sweet Bambi. Makes me so sad! Do you think they were literally hunted for this dish?"

I sounded so ridiculously stupid! Seriously? Bambi? I love deer but I know these aren't wild ones. Still it's a pity they were sacrificed for this man's plate instead of roaming freely in the woods.

Miron silently shakes his head. I'm not sure if the action is in answer to my dumb question, or just to clear his foggy eyesight.

He is the one that recommended me for this job, a thing that I will be forever grateful for: good paychecks, decent working hours, modern environment, and plenty of career opportunities. The last part didn't matter too much after the incident, after which I lost my ambition altogether. Shitty boss – Englishman Bill, but it is not Miron's fault the boss is an asshole. Sometimes I wonder if there is really any other kind?

Miron most likely made this gesture in an attempt to ease his conscious over what happened roughly five years ago.

He was my brother's best friend, and it was in his house the fatal accident happened. It was towards the end of night and their party; they were all stoned since they were celebrating Miron's birthday. My brother leaned against a window while sitting on its sill. But there was no glass to lean into; the window was open to the abyss below. What haunts me is the unanswered question: what were his thoughts on his way down, while falling from that ninth floor? Did his brain scream in fear, did he pray, or had the alcohol kept him oblivious to his impending death? I sigh deeply; it's always hard to remember. And I shall never forget.

I look at Miron and I wonder how guilty he feels about it. He is not exactly a profound kind of person, but I have come to consider him almost a friend. He keeps oscillating between treating me like a little sister and a potential lay, but at least his playful banter is refreshing. For some reason he keeps confessing to me all his sexual adventures. There seem to be so many of those that I am sure he makes up at least a good part of them.

I'm never sure why he tells me all these boudoir stories. Probably because I don't judge, or perhaps in his mind this is a strategy that will turn him into a hot commodity and I'll drop my panties for him. Since in my opinion he has about as much amount sex appeal as a toad, I'd say his strategy isn't a good one. Strangest thing of all is that all those confessions as well as all of the information I got from growing up with an older brother, were eye openers for me to the true nature of men.

Hearing in so many shades the intimate details of people's lives I knew, most of them married ones, in sharp contrast to their impeccable, responsible husband facades makes me realize: they are all cheating bastards. Finding out about the sexual adventures they had, which seem like snippets out of pornographic movies… I shudder.

Not to mention the details about Diana, the official mistress, his wife, and the other men's wives. What kind of sick man tells his pals or even me details about how his wife is pleasuring him or her lack of skill in that department?

The truth about men is that they want to stick their cock into every single "attractive" female they encounter. Every single one. They evaluate complete strangers based on which "hole" they'd likely use, and what measures they would need to employ in order to conceal the unattractive features that might make their conquest less enjoyable.

They might not all act upon these impulses but it is in their blood.

Let's face it, men suck, but so do women.

I silently turn my gaze to watch Ada across the table. Ada or rather Adina by her given name, is the gorgeous nymph I longed for years to be like. My best friend since high school was the one I considered my personal idol for reasons I can hardly fathom now. Most likely, it had to do with my desire for a younger, newer model other than my Gran. She had fulfilled for far too long my need for a mother, a sister, and a friend.

Ada suffered from learning disabilities and came from a poor family. I felt sorry for her, and in my inexperience, I helped her to get a job with me. As soon as she smelled the money she turned on me like a shark scenting a seal cub. Today, I'm not sure if it was a mistake after all, as it allowed me to finally see her real, ugly face.

I'd like to blame the loss of our friendship all on her, or fate or someone else. In the end, this is not true at all. I'm solely to blame; I was the one to place her, an empty vessel, on this tall pedestal, and now she quite naturally is looking down on me. When I saw her true nature, my whole admiration shattered into sharp pieces, along with the parts of my soul that she had filled with her fake glow.

She wishes to be called Ada nowadays and I can't bear to call her by her full name, anymore, not even in my mind. My Adela was just a fairy from my happily ever after fantasies.

I'm reluctant now to even wish for more girl friends. Friendship is greatly overrated anyhow, isn't it?

Ada and the other two girls excuse themselves and leave the table heading to the lady's room to freshen up. I imagine they will have a smoke and engage in more chitchat, probably about their 'sleeping' arrangements tonight.

Lucian, left alone and unsupervised by Diana, uses the opportunity to fill my water glass with palincã, and to make me drink up by toasting: "To the best secretary of our company, to Suzana – bottoms up!"

Yeah, you idiot, out of the infinite number of secretaries you have had – a total of one, I am the best. Ever. But I refrain from replying and just sample the drink with a weak smile. But Lucian just kept grinning wickedly and eyeing me like a rare steak, inching his chair closer.

"Suusahnah!" Bill whispers while drunkenly smiling to me, and when I say me, I mean my boobs. I often wonder if men remember my face at all, their gazes always seem intently fixed on my generous chest. Somehow he misinterprets my eye rolling as an invitation to fondle me. Again, translate 'me' as 'my tits'.

The situation begins to deteriorate rapidly, especially when Miron seems to forget all about me, the sister, and starts to takes a handful of me, the potential lay material.

I feel paralyzed, overwhelmed by another memory that I tried so hard to bury. The feeling is drowning me and drawing me into that dark place.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to muster my strength to jump off of my stool and stop the advances coming from the three men.

Suddenly I feel movement as unexpected help arrives. My eyes fly open at the welcome last minute reprieve.

Three pair of hands ceases the unsolicited fondling and touching as the girls return to the table, each taking possession of 'her' man. Stela is shooting me angry glances from Bill's lap; Ada makes Lucian to take back his seat and wraps his arm around her waist; and Diana is looking reproachfully at me. As if I was the one jumping their men. ME!

Trying to restrain the teardrops that threaten to overflow the dam, along with a too familiar wave of self-pity, I close my eyes again, shutting the outside world out, as I focus on my breathing pattern – in and out, in and out... After a while I am able to take in the world again.

I shift my position so I won't have to see them anymore and gaze around the restaurant.

My eyes stop on a table with three other diners. One beautiful and elegant redheaded woman with flawless white skin is animatedly speaking to a younger man with dark short blond hair and delicate features, and a striking, tall man, sitting slightly turned towards me. Impossibly long legs in tight dark blue jeans, sealed with a gorgeous silvery hand-crafted buckle belt. My gaze is roaming upwards, over the large expanse of his chest in a black tight t-shirt exuding masculinity. Another marathon eyefuck is just taking in all the length of those arms and hands. The broad shoulders flow into a long neck with graceful tendons, like an Ionic marble column. It's topped with a strong jaw with the most delicious cleft chin, a gift from the Gods. A proud straight Roman nose is the backdrop for firm lips stretched into a slight smile. Gold-like hair framing an impossibly beautiful face, and blue eyes that seem to sparkle, even from the distance. Perfectly chiseled cheekbones made me aware of the sculpture of his bones, as if his bare skull would be attractive. I bet that even after like 1,000 years his remains would be stunning.

A living work of art, almost too beautiful to be real. A God, no, a Man, with a capital M.

I briefly close my eyes just to open them and be inexorably drawn to his again.

Eyes that seem to twinkle with amusement now. Oh no, I've been caught staring. I never stare!

His smile stretches into a wide grin as he makes a 'come here' gesture with the long fingers.

What the fuck! Was I just summoned? One second it was like I was gazing at an Olympian God, and in the next second like the ever-frosted snow covered mountain peak melted and poured down over me, bringing both of my feet back on the ground and head from the clouds. Disappointed by my credulity I bitterly ponder: Gorgeous indeed, but nothing more than another jerk who thinks the world revolves around his dick and all women should prostrate themselves at his feet!

No way. I scowl at him in response, just in time to see him patting the place on the bench next to him. On which I see a very familiar black and blue motorcycle helmet with a dark, impenetrable visor.

No, this can't be! NO! Not MY fantasy biker! I'm definitely seeing things.

I need to get some fresh air. Grabbing my purse I jump to my feet and head outside.

~o~

When the cold air of the mountain night finally fills my lungs I can feel the calmness of the silent night encompassing me in a cool embrace. I lift my gaze and watch the starry sky. Back home I don't have the privilege of seeing them; stargazing is one of the many blessings of the mountains. Such beauty! I would never tire of watching them. Millions of sparkling diamonds and in the middle the Milky Way stretches like an endless road. The infinite space above and around me makes me feel so insignificant along with all of my mundane issues.

I don't want to leave, don't want to go back to the table, the villa, or my entire life.

But the cold is creeping into my bones; the time has come to break my reverie.

Shivering slightly, I return inside.

The table is empty, empty of people and dirty plates. What? Wait! Where is everybody? I want to yell, but the answer is evident: They simply left. Did they forget about me, or was this done this on purpose? Probably the latter.

Tall, blond and insufferable is watching me again but I just ignore him. I suffered through more harassment tonight that I can handle on any given day. Enough is enough!

I curse myself for leaving my car at the villa. We came here using only Sandra's and Diana's cars since the boys knew they would get drunk while the women kept sober enough. In men's opinion it's the only time the women should be allowed to drive, when they are too wasted to do it. I for one didn't want to find myself alone in my car with one of the alcohol filled man sponges so I left my car back too.

I ponder calling for a cab since my car is at the villa, but I dismiss the thought.

I really don't want to arrive back there too soon. It will be better to arrive later, when everybody is in their rooms, either engaged in bedtime activities or passed out from the alcohol. But there's also no reason to stay here and prolong my humiliation at being left behind like an unwanted old dog.

So I square my shoulders and begin dragging my feet back to the exit, starting my long walk back through the quiet, empty forest road.

~o~

The road is dark; there are no street lights in the mountains, only moonlight casting its eerie light on the sinuous path lights my way.

After very few, but long minutes, my pace slow and I ponder going back to the restaurant to ask for a damn cab. Each dark curve of the road ahead is filled with deadly dangers in my imagination. I hear a small crack behind the tree curtain. I freeze on the spot. Then I begin moving again. How long is it until I reach the resort? I chasten myself for not paying more attention to the road while coming, but the combined perfumes of Ada and Diana on the way here gave me a horrible headache in the confinement of the car. Seems this restaurant is deep in the forest, at a far distance of Sinaia resort.

I hear another sound, and I stop again. This time it doesn't stop but escalates into a thunderous roar. A bright light creates ghostly shadows that play a hide and seek game among the trees.

Suddenly the noise stops near me and the shadows freeze. The forest's whispers halt, along with my breath. A tall figure unsaddles from his motorcycle and approaches my motionless self.

The helmet is lifted, and I recognize the handsome stranger from the restaurant. My faceless knight has features now – and his are the very epitome of male beauty.

A/N

I don't claim that what Sookie is saying is an absolute truth. She is bitter and disappointed over experiencing a massive amount of loss and betrayal for her young age.

Still, many parts of this chapter are based on real life facts. Destiny has more imagination that I could ever ask for.

Thank you for reading and, in advance, for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the mistakes in this story. I seem to own Ada and Miron characters, which is no joy at all. I wish you for better BFFs.