I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way. Who: Kass and Mary When: 9:00 PM Where: Circean Delight Rated: F for Food, lovingly described.
The costume party should have begun seamlessly, at least for the kitchens of the Circean. When she had left at eight o'clock, a bit earlier than usual, everything had been set, prepared and entirely orderly. The hors d'oeuvres had all been perfectly chosen and time, with a strict schedule to ensure that the fare varied as the night went on, each one more delicious than the last. Ranging from obviously high end, top tier cuisine to elegant twists on more down to earth fare, Kass had been particularly proud of what she and the chefs beneath her had decided upon.
Her favorite had been the mini mozzarella and tomato skewers, each exquisitely done. A little piece of olive oil brushed white country bread, carefully toasted, a leaf of fresh basil, half a cherry tomato, a small round of good, fresh mozzarella and another piece of toast. They were beautiful, colorful, and delicious.
The man who was her second in command, her sous chef, preferred the mini baked potatoes with blue cheese. The tiny little potatoes had been dipped in high grade virgin olive oil and coated very lightly with coarse sea salt. Then after they were baked, they had been split partially open and topped with a blue cheese and sour cream mixture. Served hot, they were enough to make any love of food swoon where they stood.
Sliding into her costume, and it did require a slide and a wriggle as she zipped the dress on, didn't take nearly as long as carefully using specialized cover up makeup to cover her tattoos. The black satin corset and matching panties that went under the flame red dress were nothing to sneeze at, of course. The dark purple opera length gloves went on next, along with a pair of red patent leather suicide heels, and she was ready. Just in time to get an emergency call from the kitchens, they had somehow misplaced a crucial ingredient for three of the edibles the servers were carrying out on trays for the guests.
A half hour later, and Kass had straightened everything out, not without more than a few furious words in two or three languages, thrown at those revealed as the incompetents who lost the mozzarella. As she left the kitchen, with glossy red lips and carefully styled hair, Kass's ire had not fully abated. Instead, it bled into the role of the seductress with the smokey voice and the enticing, hip rolling way of walking, that fit the character she had dressed as.