Re: promenade ; elevator
She enjoyed his laugh, and she didn't have an inch of insecurity in her ailing body. It pleased her when he didn't rush to kiss her like an overeager suitor or a starstruck fan. Kisses were losing their meaning these days, and she preferred the romance that came with looks and suggestions and, ultimately, a press of lips. Foreplay was her secret weapon, and she yielded it from the moment stepped in front of a stage light. It wasn't an intentional ploy. It was just who she was, and just because sensuality oozed from every pore didn't mean she was easy. "Bella sounds more grown than Baby," she told him. She wasn't sure about being grown. She liked who she was now. She liked being young and adored.
"I'll tell you a secret," she whispered, leaning close to him as she took his arm. It was an intimate whisper, dead roses and an undercurrent of ammonia. "I'd rather be adored than have all the pearls in the world. Not adored, loved. I'd live in the poorest hut if someone loved me," she said, her youthful exuberance incongruous with the husky tone of her voice and the intimate whisper. She wasn't scared to say the words, and she had no inborn need to protect her heart from being trod upon by too hard soles. "But you don't agree with me. You think there's a lot else." She could tell by his teasing, and the smile she gave him invited confidences. After all, there was nothing like good company, and his arm was strong and sturdy. There wasn't anything weak about liking men to be strong, and she liked her men strong.
Nephritis didn't care much where the elevator opened, as long as there was a place to sit. A martini would be nice, and somewhere quiet would be nicer. Unless he had other plans. "Am I spoiling your evening, or can you sit awhile and tell me about your Brotherhood?" she smiled a broad smile, her deep and circled eyes crinkling at the corners with the impermanence of youth. "Unless it's a secret. Girls know all about keeping secrets."