Betrayed Chapter 9

Okay, you would think by then I would have been used to incipient heart failure; not so. Jeff Spencer's eyes were almost as blue as mine. His had a predatory glint to them, sizing me up like a piece of meat. Even in my nearly-six-inch heels, I had to look up to him.

"I couldn't help but notice you are the most beautiful woman here," he offered.

Now that was suave – NOT! Are you sure you graduated from high school, Big Boy?

So this was it. He had picked this time and place – in front of the city's elite – to 'out' me as a man. Mentally, I judged the vertical distance from floor to crotch, factored in flexibility, heel height, plus strength and speed of my up-thrusting knee. Yep; that should just about do it. Sopranos, here he comes....

"Why, thank you, Sir!" I oozed with appropriate unctuousness. "Have we met before?"

"I would remember if we had," he schmoozed back. "Allow me; I'm Jeff Spencer of the..."

"Of course," I interjected. "I've seen you on TV. I must say, the camera angles don't do you justice."

No, but I will. Just give me an excuse, Sport-o. Your next endorsement will be for the Vienna Boy's Choir instead of the Vienna Sausage Company.

"On the subject of Justice," he segued....

Here it comes....

"...it's positively criminal for a gorgeous woman like you to be standing there with an empty champagne flute. What do you say we waylay a waiter and rob him blind?

So that's your game; take me someplace private and apply a little blackmail, with the implied threat of outing me to everyone who is anyone. You are slicker than I gave you credit for, Buster. Okay; let's play. Perhaps I can get you to give up your partner, too....

"Oh, let's," I chirped, slipping my arm through his. "They aren't being nearly attentive enough anyway. Perhaps we can shake things up a bit."

Believe me, the smug smile and undulating tush was all an act.