Chance Upon A Tempest

Chapter 23

Looking at your watch, you see that the speaker panel session is starting in twenty minutes, and you decide to head down to the venue now. You are more than worried and scared that you are going to run into Lester alone. Not wanting to be a baby about the whole thing, you put on a brave face and walk to the bank of elevators. To your relief, there are several people already waiting for the elevator and you feel less worried and threatened.

The trip down to the convention center is uneventful and when you get to the larger ballroom, you find that it is set up to hold hundreds of people. You think, "I guess this panel sure brings in the crowd."

The event is still at least fifteen minutes away from starting and the place is already almost halfway filled with people. You get to the front rows, and you find it, once again, filled to capacity with mostly women. You think, "Is this for Remy or Jimin?" You look at the rest of the speaker panel and it is filled with equally brilliant attorneys, and according to the biography on the program, two members of the panel are women and three are men.

So, you find yourself another aisle seat in the middle of the room and sit down to wait for the entire thing to start. In the next 10 minutes, all of the panel members take their seat up on stage behind a dais.

When Jimin steps out on stage with his navy-blue suit, tailored to accentuate all the best parts of him, there is a loud murmur. It's pretty clear the women are reacting to how pretty he actually looks. You don't remember him wearing that suit this morning, but then again, you weren't really paying attention to his clothes at the time. He is wearing a crisp white shirt, blush pink tie and a matching pocket square, and cognac-colored oxfords. Jimin's hair is loose and naturally falls around his forehead. With his flawless skin and brilliant smile, he truly is a sight to behold. He sits down behind his name plate and talks to the other panel members, two of whom he is already acquainted with.

Within minutes of Jimin's appearance on stage, the last of the panel members, Remy LeBeau steps onto the stage. He is wearing a three-piece grey herringbone suit with a deep orange bowtie and dark brown shoes. Remy's hair is a bit long around the edges and the way he has it tucked behind his ears seems to accentuate the grey streaks by his temples. When he quietly steps onto the stage and sits in the only empty seat, there is an equally enthusiastic murmur in the room. You think, "Would you look at him with that goddamn bow tie? How cute is he? If I was one of those more daring women, I would have slept with that man. He is so cute."

Jimin's seat is in the center and Remy's seat is to his left and the audience's right. The two introduce themselves to each other and a light conversation seems to take place. Then your dirty, filthy, gutter-dwelling mind conjure up a scenario with you and both men. You tell yourself, "Hokay, I am completely certifiable. But if I had the opportunity to engage in such activity, just once...." The idea of having two men at once, lights all kinds of fires in your belly and rings all the bells and whistles in your head. You can feel yourself blushing hard, so you keep your head down until you start to feel your face cooling down.

As you are trying your best to 1) keep your head from setting ablaze, and 2) keep the image of Remy and Jimin taking you at the same time out of your deranged mind, your phone buzzes and startles you out of your Caligula's orgy level reverie. You pull your phone out to check and see who is texting you and it is Remy.

Remy:
Cher, I don't see you in the front row.
I thought you'd get here early enough to snag one.
I was looking forward to just staring at your lovely face.

You:
Hi Remy,
I'm sorry, I've gone and underestimated your popularity once again.
But to my credit, I got here twenty minutes before the event started.
By the time I got here, every seat on the first 5 rows were filled, with only women.
I'm sitting with the men folk in the back, yet again.