10-20-2013, 11:19 AM
The sun was setting when Spectra's car wound through the glass columns of downtown Moscow City. Its firy rays broke between the buildings every few blocks, and during the long minutes they were stuck in traffic, Spectra rested her chin on the back of her hand and studied the reflection of the nearby Moscow River.
When finally they pulled up in front of a building, the driver opened her door, and Spectra emerged practically lost to their exact location. A few members of paparazzi flashed her picture, and their glittering captive briefly indulged their pleas.
"Dominiano Cadici,"
she answered in response to one question. The designer of this slip of a dress was famous for his metallic threading and futuristic cuts. The bronze and copper sheen played beautifully against her golden skin and green eyes, but even the accessories on loan from some of Moscow's top jewelers took second stage to the seductive smile of the woman modeling them.
Building security cleared a path, and Spectra was escorted inside. The lobby of this skyscraper was secure as a prison, and for good reason, although there were certain to be quieter entrances elsewhere. One of the Custody Directors called this home, likely somewhere high in the clouds so screening those coming and going was an important responsibility.
Spectra had been to such parties before, but never had she entertained so high a government official before. Directors were in charge of entire Custodies, and Spectra leaped at the chance to attend anything of prominence. Not only was she paid well, but additional chances to inject herself into powerful grasps was always welcome.
The elevator ride was uneventful. She was one of the earliest arrivals, but she integrated herself with the few other pieces of arm candy placed around the penthouse like sculptures of art.
She was unconcerned about the forthcoming night's activities which were sure to be abundantly gray in the eyes of the CCD law, but according to Spectra's experience, she was sure to turn a blind eye to all sorts of things tonight.
When finally they pulled up in front of a building, the driver opened her door, and Spectra emerged practically lost to their exact location. A few members of paparazzi flashed her picture, and their glittering captive briefly indulged their pleas.
"Dominiano Cadici,"
she answered in response to one question. The designer of this slip of a dress was famous for his metallic threading and futuristic cuts. The bronze and copper sheen played beautifully against her golden skin and green eyes, but even the accessories on loan from some of Moscow's top jewelers took second stage to the seductive smile of the woman modeling them.
Building security cleared a path, and Spectra was escorted inside. The lobby of this skyscraper was secure as a prison, and for good reason, although there were certain to be quieter entrances elsewhere. One of the Custody Directors called this home, likely somewhere high in the clouds so screening those coming and going was an important responsibility.
Spectra had been to such parties before, but never had she entertained so high a government official before. Directors were in charge of entire Custodies, and Spectra leaped at the chance to attend anything of prominence. Not only was she paid well, but additional chances to inject herself into powerful grasps was always welcome.
The elevator ride was uneventful. She was one of the earliest arrivals, but she integrated herself with the few other pieces of arm candy placed around the penthouse like sculptures of art.
She was unconcerned about the forthcoming night's activities which were sure to be abundantly gray in the eyes of the CCD law, but according to Spectra's experience, she was sure to turn a blind eye to all sorts of things tonight.