Breezing by the sparkling crystal shards littering the carpet, Theresa headed to the house phone and issued demands to the concierge. Her answers obtained, Theresa grabbed her handbag and wobbled unsteadily on her heals as she headed for the suites front doors. She struggled to open the door in her inebriated state, and stumbled as the latch released and the door sprang open. Theresa used the wall to support her unsteady gait as she headed to the elevator bank and rode the elevator to the appropriate floor where Beth’s suite was located.
“Lucky witch,” Theresa muttered under her breathe as she pounded on the suite’s door.
Beth heard the commotion and decided to let Theresa stew outside for a couple of minutes, after all she wasn’t at the washed up trophy wife’s beck and call. Beth had changed into something comfortable and had been relaxing comfortably on one of the suite’s ultra plush chairs while sipping a mimosa. Deciding she had left Theresa stewing long enough, Beth rose gracefully from the chair. Her flexibility and grace belying her age.
“About time you answered the door,” Theresa stumbled as she slithered into the room. “I need a drink.”
“Seems like you’ve already had more than enough, how about a cup of coffee instead?” Beth had moved to the house phone and placed an order for coffee and afternoon tea to be brought up.
Theresa in the meantime had collapsed into the nearest chair. She was a mess to the casual observer. Her diamonds in disarray, her clothing all askew, and the stench of gin emanating from her. Beth shook her head, pitying the creature before her and wondering if her plan was bold enough and if Theresa were capable of carrying out the plan given her current condition.
Room service arrived and Beth served Theresa a strong cup of coffee and placed a sandwich in front of her, “Eat and drink and then we will talk.”
Theresa pouted but complied. Beth observed Theresa over the delicate china cup as she sipped her tea. Theresa reminded her of a spoiled poodle, all dressed up and feisty but incapable of doing any true harm. “She should be a breeze to manipulate.” Beth’s thoughts drifted toward her scheme and how it might be changed to suit her needs.
Shortly, Theresa seemed to sober up some and pulled herself up into a more graceful position. She eyed the elderly woman seated in front of her, curious about the creature that had managed to sink her claws into dumb Jack despite the gulf of years between them. There was nothing remarkable about Beth, Theresa quickly surmised. She had stylishly cut short gray hair, green eyes, wrinkles, although not many, and wore simple jewelry. Nothing about her screamed sex kitten capable of landing a man fifty years her junior. Theresa of course, failed to observe the easy manner Beth moved, her limbs obviously limber and without any hint of arthritis or rheumatism.
“So, I assume you have graced my elegant suite for a reason Theresa.”
“You said you could help me. I am curious as to how you think you can help me? Or how you even think I need help in the first place.” Theresa’s tone was harsh and abrupt and her gaze unwavering.
“Well, for starters I know that you can no longer hold your husband’s attentions and that while you sit here alone on evenings, he is out have a grand time with sweet young co-eds.”
Theresa snorted, “Like I care where he dips his wick! All I care about is his money.” Her face distorted into a gaze of disgust and derision.
“Be that as it may, he is making a fool of you in polite society and I know you care about that a great deal. Last I heard, he was running his mouth at a party proclaiming that he couldn’t wait to divorce you and move on in peace. I believe I heard him call you the sparkling vulture recently.”
Theresa’s gaze hardened and she made a move to leave. “Oh sit down and stop being an idiot. We both know you don’t love your husband and you are only interested in bilking as much money as you can out of his accounts before he leaves you high and dry.”
No comments:
Post a Comment