Emma had been sitting in the waiting room for a good twenty minutes. There was much, however, to keep herself busy. Women seemed to be flocking in for the opportunity to apply for the position to work side by side with Mr.Tony Stark. Not only was he listed as Forbe's most rich and eligible bachelor but who didn't know that he was the super hero and American icon, Iron Man? Each woman in the waiting room was fixing herself in a mirror or chatting excitedly with the person next to her. That is, each woman but miss Emma Frost, who merely sat there watching the others with cold, icy blue eyes. One woman had even said she didn't care about the job, she only wished to see the Iron Man up close. Emma rolled her eyes.
"So, are you nervous?" the woman next to Emma asked, leaning in close to her with a school-girl smile on her face. Emma glanced at her through the corner of her eye, raising an eyebrow as she did so.
"No." was all she answered, sounding rather unimpressed.
"You're not? How could you not be?" the woman asked, staring at her as if she'd grown a second head on her shoulder. Emma sighed and re-crossed her legs. It was obvious this woman was not going to mind her own business. The blonde flipped her hair, her eyes following as a man was escorted out of Mr.Stark's office by security.
"Ms.Frost?" a computer voice called out into the room. Emma stood and smirked, smoothing out her skirt casually. "Let's just say I have the assets Mr.Stark is looking for." she spoke to the woman before gracefully walking toward Tony's office. Her hips swayed graciously, her plump backside twitched in the tight pencil skirt as she walked. The slit in her skirt was so high that an inch or so more and her black thong would be showing.
"Bitch." she heard the woman she'd left behind murmur. Having regained full awareness and control of her telepathic abilities, Emma sent a vast message to the other women waiting in the room. "Might as well go home now, ladies." she whispered to their minds as the doors were shut behind her.
“Mr.Stark.” Emma spoke with a bright, white-toothed smile that seemed to uncharacteristic of her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” she said holding out her hand for him to shake. The top three buttons of her white shirt were unfastened and the others were strained when the woman made certain motions, as if threatening to pop off. She held her jacket slung over her arm and a professional green folder in which her unnecessary resume resided.