Legend

Parties, celebrations

I checked the scrap of lace and checked myself in a mirror before going out into the press of partygoers. It wasn't just Wayne Enterprise employees, it was also business partners (like me, I realized with a thrill,) potential associates, and clients. It was a huge party. I found Bruce holding court in a large room and thanked him for the invitation.

"It's good to have you back in the city, Alex," he said, gravely, taking my hand and giving me an air kiss. It kind of cracked me up. All these years, all this practice, and he was still stiff in company. "I'm looking forward to achieving important things with you and your brother." I smiled at the mention of J, who was still laboring away at finals, and he seemed to relax. A couple quick pleasantries, and I yielded to others who wanted a moment of Bruce's time. I got a little plate of hors d'oeuvres and water in a wine glass, and circulated, taking a few pictures for J and chatting with some of the people I'd been working with the past few months before finding an open spot on a very odd piece of furniture. It was a sinuous S the size of a love seat, but it looked like two arm chairs had been pressed together on each curve of the S, the upholstered seats facing opposite directions. It was in the Victorian style, so you have to make allowances for that. I nibbled (I'd eaten before I came so I could just enjoy tastes of the most decadent things) and relaxed, watching the crowd. Bruce employed a hugely diverse workforce and worked with aybody who had good ideas, so there were people straight out of college and the high school interns as well as distinguished people past the general age of retirement who just didn't want to give up their passions. The evening wear ran a short gamut of suits for men--along with a smattering of colorful kilts, but the women had considerably more scope. The quality of the outfits for both sexes varied from utilitarian to those who were trying too hard to those who got it just right to those who plainly were uncomfortable outside their work clothes.

Ron, a guy who worked with me on the high speed cameras, came over to introduce me to his partner Greg and we chatted a bit. "Kevin from electronics is already wasted," Ron warned me dourly. "He's like an octopus, I've been told, and hard to get away from." I rolled my eyes. There's always one.

I sat back on the weird furniture to enjoy myself and relax (and frankly, my left shoe was pinching my toes a bit); I looked over when someone sat on the other half. I smiled to see Damian. He'd grown into knock-out handsomeness; he had Bruce's build, broad shoulders, and strong jaw, but his Middle Eastern mother had given him a warm complexion and sultry smolder. He smiled too, bringing up a dimple in his cheek. We chatted a bit, then I realized the genius of the odd furniture; it was very pleasant to lean into the arm that separated us and chat face to face. Then he asked me to dance. I remembered how he danced, but consoled myself with the knowledge that I could just enjoy looking at him.

I was surprised, though; a band was playing selections from the great American playbook of standards, and I settled into his arms for a version of "Night and Day." He led beautifully, and I had to admit I was impressed. "You dance wonderfully," I complimented him. His bright blue eyes lit up.

"It is an improvement, isn't it? I took lessons. I remember you were such a good dancer. I always felt like a spaz." I tried quickly to find an appropriate response but somebody cut in before I could find tactful words. I groaned to myself. It was drunk Kevin.

He was normally very retiring, somewhat aloof, but with the addition of alcohol, he turned into the worst kind of party boy--loud, obnoxious, and his eyes never left my breasts, which caused collisions on the dance floor. Now, I'm proud of my boobs, they're my pride and joy right after my hair and I don't mind appropriate appreciation, but I like to have the whole package acknowledged. It wasn't as if Kevin was ever going to get to see them. Not after the embarrassment he caused; he held me too tight and had no appreciation for the flow of the dance floor.