Smoke and Mirrors : Royal Angels I

Hello from the other side

~Xavier~

My dîck getting frostbite would be the most royal thing to happen today.

As Lady Marjorie informed me for the third time this night that she was into puppies and private "conversations", I wanted nothing more than my pants and more alcohol.

Wear bright red robes in the middle of winter, they said.

It's tradition, they said.

Because clearly, what could be more festive than real blue balls?

"I'd ask you for a dance, but I drink better." A lady's voice said behind me. "So vodka or whiskey, Your Grace?"

I turned around in my seat and eyed the sexiest woman I'd ever met. She was dirty blonde, supermodel tall, wearing a long black dress with a dipping neckline, showing off double Ds.

"I don't drink." I said, somehow not able to shake off the image of an intelligent pair of forest green eyes, despite staring directly at another woman's boobs.

Dear God, I'm so fücked.

Miss Double D looked a little hurt, so I got up.

"But since, you're a nice tall glass of water, I guess I could give you a test drive." I said, offering her a hand to dance.

"Real smooth." She smiled, putting her hands around my neck. "Your girlfriend's lucky woman."

"And how would you know I have a girlfriend?" I asked her, curiously.

"You haven't groped my äss in the one minute I've known you." She said, wisely. "Either you're a true gentleman or you have a satisfying lady."

"Why not both?" I muttered, resting my head on her shoulder. I could've sworn I saw a flash of red hair in the balcony.

You do realise it's more likely that that was Merida from Brave popping a few arrows than Victoria actually coming here?

Sappy idiot.

"So do you have a name?" I asked the woman, trying to distract myself. "Or should I just call you milady until you figure out I'm the literally last guy you can bang tonight?"

"So you're saying there's still a chance." She had a smile that was just a little lopsided and the more I looked at her the more tiny imperfections I noticed.

It somehow made her more real, even more friendly.

"I'm Liza Marie Vasilya." She said, as the song ended. "And no, Im not a stripper. I'm a neurosurgeon."

I was about to formulate a reply to that - probably something nice about sinking the dumb blonde ship - when I saw the unmistakeable shade of that strawberry red hair flash behind the window again.

"Then please cut through my brain and figure out what's wrong me." I muttered. "For the love of all things holy, I keep seeing this girl -"

"You mean the little red Spiderwoman outside?" She asked knowingly. "Oh, that one's real."

I blinked.