A surprising delightful afternoon filled with laughing children running about through the casino gardens and a light lunch had led to the main event, so to speak, the gala affair for the grown ups with deep pockets and a desire to brush shoulders and other various body parts with The Taylor Monroe. For her part, Aphrodite was enjoying herself immensely, looking every inch a goddess, walking amidst the contributors with ease and charm, seducing their wallets empty as cameras whirred and the band played merrily.
Neck bare, the goddess seemed to glow from within, gown rustling to twine about her legs as she waved at someone across the room with one hand and accepted another glass of champagne with the other, giggling at the kiss of bubbles as she drank. The necklace had remained in her safe on Olympus, but around her waist lay her girdle, a compromise reached after much discussion with husband and lover.
Ridiculous, of course, none would harm her, not at such a public event where every moment was captured on film and the room was crowded with dignitaries, celebrities, philanthropists and other hangers-on, and then there were the children, the most adorable little choir who interrupted the grown up's chatter to sing like angels as Aphrodite laughed and clapped along, like the rest, utterly distracted by the show, as they were meant to be.
A gentle brush of displaced air against her shoulder reminded her that she was there to work, though her attention remained on the little sprite whirling about the small platform, ribbons trailing behind her as if to dance along.