Ghosts in the System

[WretchRoad]

She passed a gracious smile to Richardson before withdrawing her hand. “A few?” her tone shifted to congenial with Celeste, “that’s impressive.” It was menial small talk, but she had to say something to cap that short conversation and pretend like she hadn’t noted the details shared between Becker and the other man. Could be nothing, could be something. No matter what she’d have to bring it up in the debrief.

In the space of their chatter she mentally prepared a list of names and accompanying faces from what she’d seen that evening, but he interrupted her note-taking with the most surprising thing he’d said to her, well, ever.

He was being friendly.

She canted her head in the same conspiratorial tilt, responding. “But a dick-measuring contest would make for a more exciting gala.”

And to the table: “Tell me something about Bob, something he enjoys, that way I’ll have an excuse to start a conversation when he arrives.”

 

[The_gladiator]

He nudged his shoulder against hers, the tilt matching hers, the words kept between the suit and the spidersilk.


“Tell me. Do you measure them with your hand or your mouth?”


The image arrived uninvited—his cock in her hand—and he tried to banish it. The liquor really was strong if he was fantasizing this early in the night.


Celeste looked Danica over with a knowing glance when the question about Bob hit the table.


“I’m guessing you mean tell you something Bob is into besides young women with large breasts?”


Richardson’s mouth twitched. “I was going to say you’ve plenty for him to look at. He may even talk about them too, if you’re not careful.”


“Behave, you two,” Becker said, a slight laugh in it.


He had to admit they weren’t wrong.

 

[WretchRoad]

Her blush and her silence stood in place of the epithets she could have used for them and their ilk.

By then she had Becker's number, and knew he was going to press her either for fun or to see how she responded, or both. But their company didn't offer the kind of polite conversation she expected.

They knew what she was.

Of course they did, because they probably knew Becker and saw that she didn't fit the picture quite as well as she hoped. Could be that no one really fit in his picture.

"Mouth," she said aloud, confusing their companions —but hopefully it reddened Becker's cheeks a little more. In practice, she didn't care to measure, she simply picked the most vulgar answer.

"Why, is there nothing more interesting at this table than me?" She gave a pointed look at Celeste. It was a two-pronged strike, aimed at her lack of assets and her husband, for noticing.

Perhaps, she thought, if they paid for her, they could earn the right to say what they wanted. Until then only Becker had that priviledge.