;wir sterben niemals aus
mr-choiminho
She’s thankful for the glass of wine in hand, the rim of its cold texture pressed to the swell of her lower lip and she sips on the pungent liquor - her feet taking her slowly along the marble flooring, no longer unaccompanied by her client. It’s not rare to be abandoned after initial introductions, yet Jessica still wonders why they pay for her service if they’ll end up in someone else’s company for the evening.
The crowd is moving into the holdings of a dining hall now, faint trimmings of music coming from a four-piece string set, their sounds briefly noticed by her now that she had no one to converse with. She figures she had to stay for the meal before leaving, knowing she’ll have to take her seat next to her client and if she didn’t show - she’d be in trouble with the agency.
Through large open doors she goes and after checking the seating plan she finds she’s on table number 5 - then turning her head to find the actual table itself. Wandering through the array of chairs and other furniture Jessica finally arrives at the empty table, first to arrive for the evening. Fingertips gently run along the cloth, checking each little placard that displays the name and eventually she finds her own - soon taking her seat, still nursing her wine.
It’ll be a long night.
