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I grabbed her waist and kissed her hard, and as soon as our lips touched I was falling into deep feminine mystery and Russian magic. The softness of her lips as I crushed them under mine, the little moans that vibrated through me. Is she just acting? Because I sure wasn’t. And then the tip of her tongue found mine and I growled and pulled her harder against me, my cock rising against her thigh. I put my hand on the smooth perfection of her leg and slid it up under her dress, smoothing my palm over her hip, her ass…God, I’d forgotten she was wearing a thong. I squeezed her ass hard and she groaned and writhed against me, her breasts caressing my chest.
Someone tapped me hard on the shoulder. I reluctantly broke the kiss and looked around, scowling, my hand still up Tanya’s dress. It took me a few seconds to focus on what the person was saying.
“...supposed to be up here,” said the security guy.
I’d completely forgotten about him. I slowly withdrew my hand from Tanya’s dress, glaring like a grizzly deprived of its meal.
“Sorry,” said Tanya in her Rachel-from-Alabama voice. “We were trying to find a bedroom.”
The guy flushed. Then his eyes went to her cleavage and he flushed harder. “Downstairs, please,” he managed.
Tanya grabbed my hand and we hurried down the stairs. I was still reeling from the kiss. I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the warm press of her against my body, But Tanya acted like nothing had happened. Can she really just shrug it off like that?
She glanced back at me, paused, and, for a split-second, I saw it in her eyes. No, she can’t. We stared at each other longingly. My chest ached...
Then she broke my gaze and continued down the stairs, the giggly, flirty Rachel mask back in place.
A moment later, we joined the crowd on the first floor. Tanya plucked two champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray and that was it: we were in.
I looked around in wonder. I’d never been in a place like this. It was old-money grand, with big windows that flooded each room with natural light, oil paintings on the walls and statues everywhere. I kept worrying I was going to knock over a vase worth half a million dollars. And the people were just as alien to me: young, beautiful women in a rainbow of brightly-colored dresses and silver-haired men who wore their tuxedos as naturally as I wore a uniform. The air buzzed with talk of elections, scandals and corporate takeovers. This was the ultra-rich and powerful, relaxing in their natural environment, and if I’d been a journalist I probably could have made a year’s salary just by scribbling down five minutes of the gossip.
Tanya fitted in instantly, like she’d been born to this. “Hi!” she told an elderly couple, sounding thrilled. “So good to see you again!” The couple beamed back at her, far too polite to admit that they didn’t remember her. Tanya grabbed the elbow of a guy who looked like he might be a retired general. “We must talk later!” she told him. “I have a friend who’s very interested in your expertise.” She slipped effortlessly through the crowd, leaving smiling faces in her wake. Everyone wanted to know her. No one would have dreamed she was an interloper.
Meanwhile, I felt hulking and awkward. The shirt was too tight on my chest and the jacket got all caught up under the arms. I wished for one of my t-shirts with the sleeves ripped off. What was weird, though, was that the women at the party didn’t seem to think I looked ridiculous. They kept looking my way and smiling. I frowned and rubbed my beard, then frowned harder when my fingers hit smooth skin.
We emerged from the hallway into a huge room with a marble floor. A guy was playing a grand piano and in the center of the room, some couples were dancing. Tanya nodded ahead of us. “There’s Steward,” she said out of the side of her mouth.
As we watched, Steward sidled up to a guy standing on the edge of the dance floor and put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s 2 p.m.,” said Tanya. “That must be who he’s meeting.”
The two men stood with their backs towards us, facing the dance floor. “We need to see his face,” said Tanya. She pulled on my hand. “Come on, dance with me.”
“He’ll see us!”
She gently brushed her fingers down my cheek. “You forget, you don’t look like you anymore. But even more important, his own expectation bias won’t let him see you. He thinks you’re busy running from the team, somewhere in New York. In his mind, you can’t be here.”
She dragged me towards the dance floor. “I can’t dance ‘less it’s a mosh pit!” I hissed.
