Death at the Sapphic Ball

by Jane Brooke

  “Especially you, Jane dear. I am yours.”

  “I AM YOURS.” Exploded inside Jane’s frying cabasa.

  Gulping, for Jane literally wanted to grab her and punish her lips against her ungodly lips, just to feel the heat she had felt on her cheek earlier, she did not.

  The tension broke as Joan came in, placed Ash’s drive before her and the six thumb drives before Jane on the desk. For a micro moment she stared at Ash, who was smiling at her. Joan, one of her nerds, a small, petite, polar white skinned girl, black eyes, pixie black bangs, a spinet was of course brilliant. She was wearing an off the rack black suit, white shirt, men’s black tie ups. Jane still did not know what her story was, but she was on Jane’s advancement star list as the girl simply leered at Ash.

  As if she had known Joan for a lifetime, Ash whispered.

  “Thank you Joan. Might I ask you darling? Do you not simply adore Champagne?”

  Joan jerked her eyes at Jane and back at Ash who looked like a mischievous little girl. She was having fun, or was she?

  “Well Miss Bai, I love it, of course.”

  “Good then. Please join us tonight Joan for dinner at Petrossians. My guest, I would love that so. I am sure there is a bottle of bubbly with OUR names on it.”

  Joan looked at Jane for guidance. Jane looked at Ash, Ash smiled. Joan nodded at her boss, asking if it were OK. Jane nodded back that it was. Joan’s face lit up and her cheeks blushed and she smiled, really smiled at Ash.

  Of course Jane felt ashamed, for why had she never seen Joan as anything more than a valuable cog in her empire. It would not be the last thing that she would learn from Ash. Of course she had not known that at the moment.

  “Mi...Miss Bai, thank you...I...I would love that.”

  “My delight Joan, see you later, say eight and please, I am Ash.”

  As Joan began to back peddle and almost bow her way out of the conference room, she hesitated at the door and mouthed the words to Ash. “Thank you.”

  Ash winked at her and, then Joan was gone.

  Ash’s cell began to vibrate, and as she flipped it open, Jane’s team all shared looks. What Jane saw in the three sets of their eyes was not only confusion, but perhaps awe. Ash was doing that to them, and of course far down the road she would do so much more than that to all of them. But of course at that moment how could they ever know that she would change their lives forever.

  “Yes Tom, we’re soloing this afternoon, yes?...Oh lovely, and it is a Black Hawk, yes?...Oh yummy, of course the price is perfect, so at two, ta Tom.”

  Ash killed the cell, turned her eyes to Jane, and could see that curiosity was just killing her, yet whether for drama or effect she simply stared at Jane’s lips.

  Jane could feel a small tremor vibrating through her loins just from the heat from Ash’s Jade eyes. After a moment of teasing Jane, and Jane was sure that she was, Ash smiled, graced her tongue along the full spread of her lips and said.

  “I am soloing today, getting my helicopter license, time is so dear. I simply just have to own my own. A delicious used Black Hawk has just come to market. I am head over heels with excitement knowing it shall soon be mine.”

  “Sure, why not, what’s wrong with an almost nineteen year old female owning her own helicopter. Are you FUCKING kidding me, I guess not.” Rippled through Jane’s brain

  What was she going to say to Ash, that she moaned and bitched every time her spoiled ass was in first Class and her jet was ten minutes late taking off from the tarmac.

  Again, she was ten years older than Ash, yet she felt miniscule, irrelevant with everything she had ever done. Now she knew that she would do everything in her power to help her. She would guide her, and of course protect her from the venom and pus that would soon be crashing down on her lithe body from those that could never possibly understand her.

  After a moment, Jane watched as Ash seemed for a moment to drift off in thought. Moments passed as Ash grabbed her small pack, stuffed her Apple stuff and cell into it. She turned her eyes and stared at Jane.

  “Now, Miss Jane, just an update. My parents and I have chatted, and they have decided, mostly for me that the USA, for the moment is just not for me, my safety and privacy you see. They have purchased grounds and a manor in the country, near Manchester, as well as my parents flat in Belgravia London, where I will be living. I have duel citizenship, British and American, I use them both. I know you have offices in London, and IF, you decide to agree to my terms, well I will be thrilled to join your list. I must go now, must train, run and once again I am beyond honored that you would even be considering someone like me. I have been humbled this day.”

  She stood, slotted her black skull hat to her small head, her back pack to her broad shoulders, gloves on her hands and in a line locked eyes with Claudio, Ann and Carol.

  “Claudio, Ann, Carol, and especially you Miss Jane, thank you and remember, Petrossians at eight, we shall have a divine time. Again, thank you so very much, I am so excited by it all, ta.”

  Jane sighed as Ash tugged her black gloves tighter on her hands. She gave a tug to her knit skull cap, slotted on her Rayban’s. She turned to the door, walked to it and with a hand on the doorknob, she turned and stared at Jane for the longest time.

  Jane actually felt her breathing as it increased as Ash purred at her.

  “Miss Jane, please, could you walk me out, I’d love to chat with you for a moment?”

  “Of course Ash.”

  Standing, she felt like a dwarf being anywhere near-her as she moved to the door and opened it. Ash touched her face and spoke into her ear.”

  “You are such a darling, thank you.”

  Looking into Jane’s eyes, Jane again felt as if she were melting as she walked through the door, hesitated, turned and mouthed the word to her crew: “DARLING.”

  Her people all raised their eye brows, shrugged their shoulders and the last thing she heard as she exited was multiple giggles and whispers from her stunned posse.

  Once in the hallway, she watched as Ash chatted with her mountain, Marcel. He nodded, turned and walked down the hallway, turned left and crossing the foyer, he exited the door.

  Ash turned to Jane, stared at her as Jane gulped as Ash walked up to her, stalled in front of her. Jane felt her blood pumping through her loins as she simply stared up, way up at ‘that’ face.

  “Miss Jane, I understand business is always business, yet.” She hesitated for a moment, for effect, perhaps as she continued. She then seemed to morph as sadness fell along her face and her eyes began to moisten.

  “I just know were going to be such dear girl friends. I was wondering if later, perhaps we might have a little time alone?“ She coquettishly smiled.

  Jane felt her head spinning as she continued.

  “I don’t have a lot of girl friends, especially such beautiful ones and I would love to know you better. Would you like to play later with me, dear?”

  WHAT THE FUCK?

  Was she actually coming on to Jane, seducing her right there in the hall way? And if she was, FUCK it was working. Jane felt like she was in high school again, the star running back of the football team telling her he liked me.

  God, or perhaps Satan, or Evolution, name your poison had created the most sexual and beautiful ET creature on the planet. That ET was telling Jane that she thought she was beautiful and there was no way for Jane to assimilate any of it.

  Jane’s brain began to leak her thoughts. “What did she mean, spend some time with me? What did she mean, play with me? The kid was almost nineteen, legal, thank God, but what did she mean?”

  Ash tilted her head at Jane, telling her in doing so that she was waiting for an answer. What was she going to say, “NO” to those lips, to those eyes?

  Bluffing, her pulse hammering in her neck and wrists, Jane fak
ed it, smiled, and said.

  “Of course Ash...Ahhh, anything, of course we can chat, like I said, anything you want Ash.”

  ANYTHING?

  That was a massive word as she smiled even broader, took Jane’s chin in one hand, lifted it and softly kissed her on the lips. The kiss lasted for a few seconds. The feeling of her lips on Jane’s simply sent her insane as Ash backed away, broke her smile away from her face and looked at Jane. Her breathing intensified as she whispered.

  “Lovely, simply lovely.” Ash murmured.

  She then morphed right in front of Jane’s eyes as her sadness seemed to disappear as she laughed as the teen age girl that she was. Taking Jane’s cheeks between her fingers, she kisses Jane again. Jane felt her toes curly in her heels. Then, abruptly, Ash turned and walked down the hallway, hesitated at the turn, looked at Jane and mouthed the words.

  “Can’t wait.” She pouted an air kiss at Jane and through an “O” of her lips, vaporized Jane’s mind, maybe her heart and, then she was gone.

  Shaken to her core, of course none of it was possible to comprehend for obviously Jane felt that she just had an out of body experience. Needing her people, badly, she could still feel Ash’s kiss on her lips. It basically had been the most sensual thing that had ever happened to her.

  Twirling on a heel, and actually feeling excited about dinner that night, as well, well you know, she walked quickly down the hall and entered the conference room. Once there, they all tried, but none succeeded in figuring out what just had happened.

  The wheels, gears and fate oft their lives were revolving now and it would take time, so much of it to realize within the last hour all of their lives had metastasized dramatically, perhaps permanently.

  PETROSSIANS

  There were elegant eateries, bistros and restaurants in Manhattan, The Inn at the Park, Pierre’s in Mid Town, yet none could compare to the elegance and grandiosity of Petrossians, the grand whore of them all.

  Located within the ancient Alwyn Court Building on the West Side, so close to Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall, it was a jewel of old world elegance and above all substance. Designed by Lon Oroveanu, a genius of design, it was world famous for its elite French service, as well as for its foie gras, smoked fishes, salmon roes and of course, if one were in an orgasmic mind, its Beluga Caviars.

  Art Deco was everywhere within its spectacular mirrored bar, with Art Nouveu maidens etched into the mirrors. In its dining room graced in browns and beiges which was the style the French owners had decided to dress her in, mostly duplicating her sister bistro in Paris was pure elegance.

  The rooms were satiated in ornate Lalique crystal wall scones, acid etched Erte mirrors, bronze sculptures, and on each beige table cloth were the finest china in the world, Limoges.

  The eatery was a golden palace of light, with antique Lanvin chandeliers spewing almost muted sunlight from their bulbs, garmenting the patrons in a warmth that was almost womb like. It had been described by those that knew such things, mostly the elite of the world, as a haven of safety and elegance. That miracle was supported by pink Finnish marble columns, harmonizing the entire place to a degree of the amazing.

  It all was an ambiance that unless experienced, could not be described. It was said, that when one dines at Petrossians, one harmonizes their taste buds, heart and soul with in that moment. For the evening, it was waiting, waiting for another rare jewel that until the moment had yet arrived.

  Jane was of course manic, nervous and enthralled as well being early. Exiting her chauffeured Lincoln Town car Jane had entered through the great domed, brass and copper balustrade which was the entrance to this eatery.

  For so many different reasons she wanted to look beautiful for the night, obviously and as she entered she stalled out in the foyer. She pressed her back against a gilded wall and stared at herself in one of so many antique, golden gilded mirrors.

  Her hair, blond, short was swept back off of her forehead, almost a little butch, she liked that. She was wearing a Jil Sander black, form fitting, vee neck dress, at the knees, one side slit to mid thigh. On her slender frame, was a Jil, short at the waist, black Eisenhower jacket, exposing her small waist. Nylon less, her tan legs were planted into a pair of Christian Louboutin-Pigalle, black three inch, ankle strap, open toe pumps.

  Vanity run amok, she wanted to be tall, lean, perhaps wanted, maybe even desired and to be alluring for the obvious reasons. It was, something that she was either very comfortable with, or quite on edge with.

  On her ears we’re a pair of Tiffany, yellow gold, one carat diamond studs. Her forefinger was adorned with a simple golden ring, Bulgari, a three carat square cut emerald beveled into the gold setting, the color of Ash’s eyes.

  Neither wearing a bracelet, nor a chain around her neck, she wanted to keep it simple. Sometimes simple was so much better.

  As she stood there, she was building her courage, and knowing through a text mail that her crew was already there, she left her cell alone (a rarity for her) in her black Fendi, inlaid crystallized, black leather clutch she was holding in her hand.

  The bistro was packed, china chiming, crystal pinging, voices of all ilk’s gaily chirping. Of course the ambiance was off the charts. Understanding that Act 2 of this almost Orwellian Odyssey was going to take place for the evening, she sucked it up, and began to move.

  Strolling up to the tuxedoed and so dashing Pierre, the head Mater Dei, that she knew, casually that is, she was glad to get one of his smiles, silhouetted against his tan face and graying hair. He was, as always so tall, so French, such a prominent nose and so welcoming.

  He actually kissed her hand, in welcoming her. They chatted back and forth for a moment. He told her of course everything was prepared to the best Petrossians was capable of. And NO, Miss Bai had not arrived yet, but her entourage had.

  She had, like Ash had done to her, brushed kisses on his cheeks, which she had received a smashing smile for in return.

  Guiding her as if she were some kind of fragile piece of porcelain, Jane followed him through the tans and beiges and Citrine yellow lighting of the restaurant. Off in the distance, she could see, at a rather large round table, Claudio, Ann, Carol and of course Joan, all sipping at cocktails. They had not gone Champagne as of yet. Of course they were waiting for the NEBULA to arrive before ordering. She understood that.

  Moving right along, she noticed Gwyneth holding court with an entourage of her beautiful friends at a table, laughter, smiles, smart conversation abounding everywhere. She represented her of course. Stopping, she chatted her up and complimented her on her Jessica Choay little black dress, just a little. Jane got a lovely cheek kiss in return and moved on.

  She had taken several steps, and of course had to stall again at another table. She noticed Stella Schnabel, the notorious socialite wife of the avant-garde artist Julian Schnabel, a true madman, and a client of theirs at a table.

  She was wearing a gold, form fitting Versace blouse, jacket and skirt, quite simple, though elegant, and as usual she looked smashing. Sitting next to her was Bianca Balti, the beautiful, multi millionaire, Italian socialite, wearing a magenta low neck Michael Kor’s smock. There were pearls on her neck, gold on her wrists and fingers and she, as usual, looked stunning.

  Jane chit chatted it up with both of the girls, trading empty rhetoric, lies, and promises. “YES, of course, The Hamptons at Stella’s this weekend. She would not miss it for anything.” She had lied.

  Fuck, she just wanted to get to her table, so she smiled her way away from them, groaned audibly for she wanted none of the crap any longer in her life. Just wanting at the moment a stiff drink she more than anything wanted to calm her nerves. She wanted to get her static pulse back into the veins of her neck but she could not.

  Finally, Pierre found her table, pulled her chair back, which she set her small ass onto. So very glad to
be with her friends or at least she hoped they thought of her as such, she exhaled a deep breath being in there company.

  Claudio, Ann, Carol and of course dear, simple lovely Joan were smiling at her. They did not seem nervous, for she assumed that the alcohol had already kicked in.

  They exchanged gay chit chat, for they had already gone over and over again their game plan for the evening. Of course they we’re all on the blades edge, for they did not know what to expect from the clear hydrogen bomb that they knew would at any moment be detonating into their lives.

  Instantly, a male waiter, black trousers, white shirt and black tie, black vest, clearly French was standing next to Jane. She ordered a Chivas on the rock, a double, and though knowing that she should not be mixing her drinks, for Ash had mentioned that she simply adored (ADORED-REALLY?) champagne, she needed a little liquid morphine to settle her nerves.

  As he walked away, she scrutinized her crew.

  Claudio, as usual looked so stylish in his Calvin Klein, grey shark skin suit, white Calvin shirt and black tie, all from fitting to his athletic body. Of course she never wondered why young fashion models bounced around him constantly like Kinko balls in the machine, like chrome ball bearings. Simply said, he was young, Italian and so very handsome. On his feet were a pair of grey, Brian Atwood suede wing tips, perfect, and he knew it.

  Carol, well, being who she was, bi, a lesbian more likely, she was positive, wore a Marc Jacobs grey suit, a black mans dress shirt, black tie and no jewelry. On her wrist was a small Patek Philippe gold watch and Jane had noticed on her feet when she had entered were a pair of Jimmy Choo, flat soled, black tie ups. Jane almost laughed looking at her. She looked like a mob hit women, which in her business she was.

  Jane was impressed with Ann, who stared at her through her usual geek, black horned rimmed glasses. Usually a no nonsense dresser, casual most of the time, she had dusted her usual white skin. She wore heavy eye liner and mascara, blushed with blues, rather Goth looking in Jane’s mind. On her small mouth and lips was a rose colored lipstick. Her black hair, always in a Page Boy cut of bangs, partially hid her black lined, blue eyes.