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Bella is a vision in a burgundy-colored gown embellished with black beads in a floral pattern that glisten when they catch the light and when the embellishments end at her hips, the dress calls attention to her elegant figure every time she moves. The lower part of her dress from her mid-thighs down to her toes is black satin with a slit up her right side showing off her long, shapely leg. The keyhole back showcases her soft ivory skin and shows a hint of a hidden tattoo. The bust is modest with a heavy amount of the embellished beads angling towards her bust and disbursing more evenly towards her waist. I see the goosebumps rise on her forearms from the sudden contact with me and wrap my arm around her waist.
“Don't be afraid of the cameras and the lights. Just smile and follow what I do. You'll be great. You look breathtaking, by the way,” I whisper to her as we approach the photographers. She smells heavenly, like flowers in the breeze, as my nose lightly brushes against her hair as I speak softly into her ear.
She fits perfectly under my arm, and she doesn’t seem to be taken aback by my move to hold her close. We’ve approached our turn and we pose for the cameras and the parade of questions that are generally asked of everyone.
“Benjamin! Benjamin! Mr. Adams, over here! Who is your date? How long have you two been together? Who are you wearing? What's next for you?”
We turn from camera to camera and smile for several minutes before going on our way. At the end of the red carpet, my arm is still around her. I shift and take her elbow to help her balance as we head up the stairs together, then through the double doors that open as we approach.
At the top of the stairs, I move my hand back around her waist and squeeze her hip. Pulling her close to me, I place my mouth close to her ear. “You did fabulously,” I whisper to her as we walk through the doors. Seeing the simple words make her smile and the goosebumps rise on her skin makes me elated.
The ballroom is lavish in its decor, done in tones of oranges and pinks, with silver accents. People are everywhere. Some guests are dancing in the center of the room, while others chat around tables scattered throughout the space or mingle in the open spaces. Servers zig-zag in-between guests with trays of champagne and platters of hors d'oeuvres.
I recognize several people with whom I do business, as well as a few acquaintances. I see Henry Matthews, one of my only friends, and I make a mental note to speak with him at some point this evening. He’s standing with a few women who, by the looks on their faces, are quite charmed by him. He catches my eye and holds up his glass in my direction and we nod to ONE another. I move Bella through the room and towards the bar area.
“Shall we?” I motion my hand towards the open bar area.
“Please?” she requests.
“Nervous?” I ask as we wait in line.
“I’ve just never been to an event this fancy. I'm not sure exactly how to act or stand, or anything.”
I laugh lightly. “You are doing a great job. Remember to relax; this evening is about fun. You're not here working.”
“But you're my boss.”
“No, Isabella, I'm your date for the evening,” I say.
“Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes as we step up to the bar.
Once we get our glasses of wine, I’m approached by a few heavy hitters in the industry and get sucked into conversation. With my arm still wrapped around Bella's waist, we talk about business, even against my wishes that tonight not be about work. Bella interjects with confidence when I stumble a few times trying to recall my schedule and helps me not look like a complete fool. She fends off a meeting for me and excels at holding her own. She smiles and shakes hands with the men as well as the women. While I’m speaking with one of my associates, she maintains a conversation with his wife. I lean closer to her and try to listen in on her conversation once the gentlemen in front of me have begun speaking to ONE another, and I’ve grown bored with their chatter over some unimportant ventures of theirs. Bella is talking books and small towns with one of the wives and I wonder how they arrived on that subject. When their conversation seems to stall, I steer Bella away and towards the dance floor.
“I don’t dance,” she whispers to me as if we’re conspiring together.
“That’s okay, just follow my lead.”
“Mr. Adams, I didn’t take you for a partygoer who enjoys dancing,” she says with a light laugh.
“Oh, Isabella, I’m not, normally. But tonight, I feel like showing off my lovely date.”
Without giving her more time to refuse, I take her hand in mine, spin her out, and then pull her back into my body. She almost crashes against me but manages to right herself on her feet quickly. My right hand is on her lower back, just above her ass, and my left holds her hand out to the side. She looks at our feet between our bodies as I move us around the floor.
“Eyes up here,” I instruct her.
“Is this where you tell me that this is my dance space and that is yours?” She smirks.
“This is where I get your undivided attention.” I smile, thinking she’s cute for referring to the 1980’s cult classic, Dirty Dancing.
She cocks her head and studies me, as if all her questions might be answered by observing me.
“You’re acting different. Why?”
“I’m acting the way I normally act with you,” I reply simply.
“No, you’re acting… different. Softer. I'm not really sure, but it's definitely not the usual you.”
“We're not at work; we’re enjoying an evening out,” I reply.
