Her fingers cupped his jaw, tracing lines there. Baba wasn't trying to seduce him; oh, she could probably have some effect on him if she wanted, if she said the right words, but he didn't feel like Dexter had. The red eyed boy could and would feel those things that Dexter claimed were not in him; there was nothing in getting this one to feel. The touches might have been almost motherly if she were older. She also didn't believe he would misconstrue the closeness as some sort of request or opening.
"No, not a crone. Not what I was before either. You know the name, then. Good. There are times I miss being known." She sighed softly. "Help me down if you would. Perhaps we should walk. Find another place to watch as the game unfolds." Not once did she ask a question. She sat up and waited to see if he would move.
The sound on the football field was slowly building to the sound of the Colosseum, the gladiators fighting for something. They were fighting for the spectators, the spectators lost in the world of the senses. The young men were hitting more often and harder; they were no longer apologizing for the physicality of it all, nor were they claiming that it was against the rules.
The two women, the football gladiators, were poised and posed; they knew that they were desired, and they thrust out their now glistening chests proudly. They seemed to promise sex to the winners of the battle before them. Their shared occasional touches, the way they leaned and nibbled on each other, suggested that a..no, the winner might have both.
And that couple? The boyfriend had poured himself a tall flute of champagne and was downing it. The girlfriend was staring amazed at the brazenness of the women not far from them. The boyfriend didn't seem to mind the view; in fact, as he reached over, he lightly nudged the girlfriend's shirt up. He wouldn't mind her showing off a little.