01-20-2024, 06:20 PM
Nadya knew when to shift gears. She was a survivor, having spent enough time within the Mafia to understand when manipulation was necessary. However, Nadya's competitive nature just wasn't able to turn off her sharp jabs.
"Spectra, maybe you are right. I wouldn't mind seeing them rolling around with their shirts off and sweaty. Little tight shorts giving us a good view. Makes me hot just thinking about it. The first man to pin the other wins, then maybe we can tag the team after that, Spectra. Your previous work showed that you are quite able to handle it. But perhaps you've already had one round or two already? From the looks of this, it seems like maybe you and Alistair have been in the same position. Am I right, Spectra?" Nadya now sees from the subtle glances and body language they knew each other more than they had let on.
"Alistair, let's leave these two. I think it's time to plant your flag elsewhere." Nadya said while glancing down below his waist.
At that moment, as Nadya attempted to pull them away, she collided with a young lady holding a martini. Time seemed to freeze as the liquid floated through the air and the room spun around them. The young woman recoiled with a gasp. The atmospheric soundtrack suddenly muddled. Like a bomb dispatched by a former Mother Russian leader, the liquid splashed right onto Nadya's chest, decorating her cleavage with sweet vermouth. An olive disappeared down her dress; the cold liquid continued its journey, dribbling down her dress, and excitingly trailing down to her toes. Her skimpy lace undergarments were now soaked. An olive tumbled to the ground.
Nadya was furious. "You bitch, what are you doing?" Her voice echoed across the crowd, drawing everyone's attention. She frantically tried to dry herself off and, in the process, collided with a server, who happened to have tartar sauce that quickly added to the mess on her dress.
"Mother fucker," Nadya exclaimed. "What kind of shitshow party are you running, Adrian?"
Alistair stepped back, observing the chaos with a distant and indifferent grin. Amused by it all.
"I'll be back," Nadya declared, her gaze flicking up to Spectra, while Alistair looked on with a coy smile.
As if the incident hadn't fazed him, Alistair continued without missing a beat, "Adrian, I love the apartment. May I have a tour?"
"Spectra, maybe you are right. I wouldn't mind seeing them rolling around with their shirts off and sweaty. Little tight shorts giving us a good view. Makes me hot just thinking about it. The first man to pin the other wins, then maybe we can tag the team after that, Spectra. Your previous work showed that you are quite able to handle it. But perhaps you've already had one round or two already? From the looks of this, it seems like maybe you and Alistair have been in the same position. Am I right, Spectra?" Nadya now sees from the subtle glances and body language they knew each other more than they had let on.
"Alistair, let's leave these two. I think it's time to plant your flag elsewhere." Nadya said while glancing down below his waist.
At that moment, as Nadya attempted to pull them away, she collided with a young lady holding a martini. Time seemed to freeze as the liquid floated through the air and the room spun around them. The young woman recoiled with a gasp. The atmospheric soundtrack suddenly muddled. Like a bomb dispatched by a former Mother Russian leader, the liquid splashed right onto Nadya's chest, decorating her cleavage with sweet vermouth. An olive disappeared down her dress; the cold liquid continued its journey, dribbling down her dress, and excitingly trailing down to her toes. Her skimpy lace undergarments were now soaked. An olive tumbled to the ground.
Nadya was furious. "You bitch, what are you doing?" Her voice echoed across the crowd, drawing everyone's attention. She frantically tried to dry herself off and, in the process, collided with a server, who happened to have tartar sauce that quickly added to the mess on her dress.
"Mother fucker," Nadya exclaimed. "What kind of shitshow party are you running, Adrian?"
Alistair stepped back, observing the chaos with a distant and indifferent grin. Amused by it all.
"I'll be back," Nadya declared, her gaze flicking up to Spectra, while Alistair looked on with a coy smile.
As if the incident hadn't fazed him, Alistair continued without missing a beat, "Adrian, I love the apartment. May I have a tour?"