wine with a side of whine [Dior/Glamour]

[grim.]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

[attr="class","dontbeshy"]

D I O R.

Capitol

[attr="class","cometome"]

    It had always seemed like my agenda was tattered by that of someone else. I had spent years creating the perfect lifestyle for a person as deserving as myself. Spent moments upon moments suffering through so much hardship just to earn an extra buck. My late husband Gerald for example. The old dirty bastard was actually stupid enough to marry me nearly two years ago. With his death finally occurring roughly nine months ago I was finally entitled to his fortune and a life of worry free living. Over that span of time I had been limited to whom I was to speak to, Gerald was a jealous soul, may he rest in peace.

    Though now that I am free of his dissatisfying touch and his cracked lips I could finally return to projects of a much larger accord. One of those being Mister Glamour Kinkade. How I missed his presence and the touch of his smooth skin. Him being well aware of my now freed schedule I had received a call from him just weeks ago asking to take a little time catching up. Though I'm sure it would leave me just as dissatisfied as the last time Glamour and I had a chat.

    The man was head over heals for that boy Leon. If only he understood the drama that came with those young ones. He needed a man, someone who could really fill his sheets in the late hours. Perhaps I was being too harsh on the lad? Oh, who am I kidding he is a spoiled brat, Glamour was mine for the taking and I wasn't going to let some district child get in the way of that.

    I decided to roll out of my king sized bed at around noon. I dare not be late to my dinner date this evening, as dull as the matters may be. I spend an hour in the bath, two in the shower, and a good thirty minutes shaving the entirety of my body. Not a hair out of place. I then slip into a tux suitable for a prince, and slick my hair into a neat pile. Hm, the hair looks too neat, I'd rather give the image that I rolled out of bed, perhaps that will peak his interest. I mess my hair a tad with my finger tips and perfect the look I am going for.

    After a few more hours of television and a few cocktails the clock catches my gaze. "Eight Thirty is it? How the time flies." I would be a bit late to dinner, though that was how I liked it, always leaving them wondering. I slip into a sleek pair of black leather boots, top of the line of course, and head out of the door. I am met with a large black limo that I assume was sent by Glamour to escort me to the very dinner he had asked me to accompany him to.

     After a short ride I am let out at a building titled "le chemin de l'amour" I had no idea what that meant, though it filled my chest with lust. I am greeted by a door man who then brings me out to a dim lit balcony with but a lone table. And at the table sits the very man I was looking for, Glamour Kinkade. I let the boy take my coat and I strut toward the table. "I see it is nothing but the best from you as always Mr.Kinkade." I say playfully.

 D I O R.

[newclass=.dontbeshy]width:400px;height:400px;opacity:0;[/newclass]

[newclass=.dontbeshy:hover]opacity:0.7;transition:all linear 1s;-webkit-transition:all linear 1s;background-color:#2b2b2b[/newclass]

[newclass=.cometome::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.cometome::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background:#4D4D72;[/newclass]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Maven Pro:400"][newclass=.Glamscroll]background:none;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]border-radius: 5px; background-color:transparent!important;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 2px;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar-track] background-color: #3e375f;[/newclass]

Glamour Kinkade

your compliments look good on me

[attr="class","Glamscroll"]

The Glamour Kinkade who sits at a darkened corner table in a chic restaurant is not the Glamour Kinkade who last sat with Dior, several years prior. This disgraced-and-reinstated Capitolite wears a little less makeup, has taken his heels down an inch and instead of drumming his fingers impatiently on a glass of wine, sips at his seltzer water, wondering what Leon Krigel could possibly be thinking.

Perhaps this Glamour Kinkade is not as different as he thinks.

He's vaguely aware of Dior being late but he couldn't tell you how late, exactly. When the man comes strolling through the restaurant, all is forgiven. Glamour rises, leaning forward to kiss Dior's cheek. "I see it is nothing but the best from you as always Mr.Kinkade."

"I do so hate to disappoint," Glamour says with a wry smile before retaking his seat. The waiter joins them almost immediately and Glamour orders them each a glass of champagne. When it arrives, he tilts his glass to Dior's. "To new beginnings, yes?" He lifts a brow, waiting for confirmation, before taking a sip of the bubbles.

"So," he says, flipping open the menu. "Tell me all the unpublished details of your divorce. Did Gerald really drop dead in the shower? Did you get every penny? I'm sure you earned it." He winks, just to take the sting out of the catty comment.