A glass of red wine, shared over
whispered conversations in a candlelit setting brings to mind the romantic yet
passionate color of seduction, lust, and anger. To others this color might be
the thick cloying scent of roses, while to some it is seduction and temptation
of the senses. Perhaps it can be found in the sinfully rich texture of red velvet
cake or the whispered endearments from a lovers silver forked tongue and the
taste of forbidden fruit. I do know that this color can always stir the reader’s
imagination with stimulating enriched visions of steamy summer nights, satin
and silk sheets gently punctuated with sighs of seduction from bodies entwined
in an embrace of fantasy and illusion. Yet it is this color that can stir the
call to battle and bring a mother to her knees in weeping agony for this color
is quick to enrage and fill a heart with fury. Pain, anguish and revenge can simply
never erase the nightmares best left forgotten that this color can evoke. So
what exactly is the color RED to me? Well my friend, read on you will see that
the color not only is one filled with rage, hate and anger, but a color of sensual
seduction to the senses that only a woman can truly appreciate.
RED
Crimson heat flooded her cheeks as
she stared at the dress. “The bastard is out of his ever loving mind if he
expects me to wear that,” she snarled
between clenched teeth. Tossing the gown on the hotel bed she whirled towards
the closet, hands in tight fists she tried to reign in her raging emotions.
When detective Pathos’s hench men delivered
the dress, one of them had been kind enough to inform her that the invitation
for tonight’s Ball was a ‘Black and White Tie’ event. With a slight smirk and a
polite nod, he’d also announced that his boss would meet her in the hotel lobby
in precisely one hour.
“Like bloody hell he will,” Clarissa
said, stomping towards the closet’s double-gilded doors. Barely containing a
snarl of fury, anger punctuated her every movement. Flinging the doors wide she
reached for the garment bag she’d stashed the night before. Hastily crossing
back to the bed, Clarissa unzipped the contents sack to carefully withdraw the
treasure inside. The item had cost more than six months’ of her meager earnings,
but it was going to be worth every damn penny, she told herself.
Anticipating the look of shock and
fury on special agent Pathos’s face when she made her grand entrance tonight brought
a wicked smile to Clarissa’s lips. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying the idea
of upstaging the FBI’s golden boy, but the rush of pleasure at the thought of bringing
his-high-and-mightiness to his knees was almost worth the confrontation that would
certainly ensue.
After tonight, Pathos was going to rue
the day he’d ever called her a half-ass agent that was nothing more than a little
spit fire and a ball of fluff.
Dressed in nothing but four inch crimson
pumps and shear thigh highs, Carissa slipped the exquisite gown over her head. The
material poured over her skin like liquid silk. Knowing the cut of the dress fit
her like a glove, she ran her fingers appreciatively down her figure. The cloth
hugged her luscious curves like living fire, leaving little to the imagination.
Turning to examine her reflection in the floor length mirror, Clarissa’s eyes
twinkled with mischievous anticipation. The plunging back-line came to rest
below the indent of her lower spine where a sequined seam gathered seductively
over her posterior and ran the length of the exquisite gown. The jeweled seam
continued in a smoky pattern at the base of her dress before it swept grandly
upwards in a smoky pattern along the side slit of her thigh. From there it artfully
fanned her slim waist, coming to rest below the open V in the front of her
gown. Even her professional eye couldn’t detect that the sequins lining the
gown hid a wire that would be piping any and all conversations within a fifteen
foot radius of her.
The gown was meant to inflame and
heighten the senses in every sense of the word, and tonight Clarissa not only
intended to capture the notorious crime lord they’d been tracking for over a
year, but she was going to bring special agent, Nickolas Spartacus Pathos to
his knees.
With one final swipe of a wand, Clarissa
added a glossy touch to blood-red lips before twisting midnight tresses up into
an elegant chignon. Teardrop rubies adorned her ears and throat making her
appear as a goddess of fire and passion. With a finger lightly scented with
gardenias and roses she trailed a light path between her breasts. It was only
as she stared thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror that she decided she
would have to be extremely careful when she moved so as not to make more of a
spectacle of herself. Oh she wanted to catch the perpetrator they were after,
but she didn’t want to give the bastard a free peep show in the process. Then
again, if the act she was about to pull off got her the man in question, it
would be worth it in the end she told herself. It would also have special agent
Pathos seeing red, because there was no way in hell he could ever pull off the stunt she was about to play.
If Pathos wanted to play hardball,
she’d show him how a ‘little ball of spit
fire and fluff’ played ball. Because when it came to capturing the
attention of a man like Antonio Speer’s, the only way to accomplish the job was
with lust, seduction and manipulation.
With a blazing rage
of fury competing against her self-righteous anger, Clarissa inhaled slowly and
on a ragged breath exhaled. The fiery emotion wasn't foreign to her, but the
feeling of hatred bordered to closely to a sensation that felt as if she had
willing joining the dark side just so she could put Agent Pathos, in his damn
place!
