Enticing An Angel (6 page)

Melanie was pleased and quickly took the
tickets.

"That was neat," she said. "Let's go get our
wine. Oh, you have to get a wristband first. That's so people over
twenty-one can be identified easily; no wrist band and a glass of
wine in your hand is a bad thing."

Michael understood and let Melanie drag him
over to the makeshift bar. They got their wristbands, and she then
set her mind to getting some wine.

"Michael Angel," a voice called out to him,
and the two of them had to stop.

Michael looked at the middle-aged man that
was approaching. The gentleman was beyond middle age, was going
grey, had a well-trimmed beard, and dressed for the evening in a
suit; he stood out in this crowd more than Michael did, and it took
a minute for the Angel to place the man.

"Allen," he said as he finally made the
connection and extended his hand.

Allen took it warmly. "I didn't expect you
here tonight. I wouldn't think the Rave was really your style."

"It's not," Melanie piped up. "It's
mine."

"Ah," Michael said as he turned to introduce
his date. "Allen this is Melanie Price. Melanie this is Allen
Perkins. He's one of the curators."

"Pleased to meet you," Allen said as he shook
her hand. "Any friend of an Angel is a friend of mine," he
joked.

"Ooh, I'll have to remember that one," she
replied. Michael just rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Are your brothers going to be here tonight?"
Allen asked.

Michael laughed. "What do you think?" he
asked in return, and then after a moment's thought. "Although, I
can almost see Brian here."

Allen looked around and thought about the
comment. He shrugged his shoulders and seemed to accept the
premise.

"Is Brian an art lover?" Melanie asked.

She was then affronted by two men laughing so
hard that nearby people had to turn and see what was so funny.
Allen eventually calmed down enough to answer Melanie's
question.

"Oh, Brian Angel has many likes, but art is
not one of them," he said while still chuckling. "What I think
Michael was alluding to was the alcohol and the women in skimpy
clothes."

"And the loud music," Michael added.

"Hmm, maybe I would like him," Melanie stated
innocently.

"In that dress, he would certainly like you,"
Michael responded with a wink.

"Not exactly his taste though," Allen said as
he eyed Melanie.

Melanie frowned. She didn't like being
dismissed so easily by someone and had to ask Allen for
clarification about why she was not Brian's type.

"Simple," he replied. "You've strung together
more than three sentences without swearing."

"Oh," Melanie replied. "Then maybe I won't
like him."

"Not too worry, Ms. Price. All the Angels
behave in public. If they didn't, their mother would punish them
severely," Allen laughed. "Well, I'll let you get to it. If you get
a chance, head upstairs; we have a nice Renoir on display."

Melanie cringed and Allen noted it. His eyes
cocked oddly and he gestured to Michael.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "Melanie is an
artist and doesn't like the sterile feel of the museum."

"You're preaching to the choir on that one.
If I had my choice, we would add some warmth to that sterility,"
Allen said with a wave of his hand before asking Melanie if she
really was an artist.

Melanie nodded her head, and when Allen asked
about her medium, she began to describe her supplies. Allen quickly
became engrossed; he appeared to be impressed by the names of the
equipment and paints she used. Michael had seen the names on the
tubes of paint, and had believed Melanie when she told him how much
they had cost, but that apparently was only half the tale. Allen
understood the quality of each item she described, and for several
minutes, Melanie held a conversation with a museum curator as if
she were a contemporary. All the while, the man was honestly
impressed.

Allen asked about brushes and Melanie
responded with words like "filberts" and "fan size." To Michael it
was all confusing, but he made a mental decision to learn about
Melanie's work. Not just so that he could be part of conversations
like this, but so he could converse with her personally.

As he listened to the dialogue, he didn't say
a word, but he smiled and couldn’t take his eyes off Melanie. In
the last few minutes of his life, he had been given special entry
into a fine event, been offered complimentary wine, and was now
witnessing one of the museum's curators being impressed by the
intelligence and wit of his escort and lover. It all seemed
surreal, and Michael found that he enjoyed it immensely.

"He seems nice," she said as they made their
way to the bar.

"Oh, Allen is a good friend, and he seemed to
like you."

"What's not to like?" she asked him as she
grabbed his hand and made him twirl her.

The line at the bar was short, and the two
were soon drinking wine and walking the floor. People were dancing
off to one side, and Melanie informed Michael that he would be
required to dance with her sometime in the evening. Michal rolled
his eyes and shook his head. When he returned his gaze to Melanie,
she had her arms crossed, the wine glass held safely, and one foot
tapping. She glared at him with evil intent, and Michael obediently
apologized and mentioned that dancing would be the most wonderful
activity of the night.

"That's a good Angel," she said as she turned
and walked him through the event.

It was just a moment later when the tables
were turned on the couple. It was now Michael's chance to meet an
acquaintance of Melanie's. This was precipitated by Melanie spying
someone from across the room and waving an arm excitedly while
shouting a name. The tactic failed to achieve the desired result,
and Melanie quickly handed Michael her wine glass and proceeded to
jump up and down, waving both hands back and forth.

As he watched Melanie jumping, Michael knew
he should be embarrassed, but all he could do was nod knowingly to
the people that passed by.

Yep, she's with me
, he thought and
smiled to the onlookers to make sure that fact was made clear to
them.

"Come on," Melanie said, as she grabbed his
arm and pulled him through the crowd.

Michael did his best to keep the wine stable
and follow at her quick pace. When he realized he was running
through a museum, being pulled along by a woman half his weight,
all while trying to keep wine from spilling, he had to smile yet
again.

"Melanie!" came an answering cry as they
approached two women standing on the wide granite stairs that led
down to the lower levels.

Michael couldn't help but judge the women
immediately; he didn't condemn them, but he did place them
socially. They both appeared to be younger than Melanie but not by
much. The one that had cried out looked like a girl from an Anime
movie. She was Caucasian, as was the other girl, and sported pink
and blue hair while wearing a dress that reminded Michael of Sailor
Moon; he had to shake his head when he realized that he understood
that reference well enough to make the connection.

The second girl was a Goth. That was apparent
by her black clothes, black hair, black lipstick, and anything else
that could be black; her greeting when they approached fit the
appearance and personality as well.

"Sup?" she asked him with a nod of her
head.

The roles were now reversed, and it was
Michael's turn to become wide-eyed for a moment. Melanie fell into
quick conversation with the two girls, and Michael felt a bit like
a third wheel. The Anime girl eyed him and seemed to make a
judgment of her own. He felt uncomfortable and soon he felt
forgotten.

Melanie eventually remembered him when the
Goth girl punched her on the shoulder and nodded at Michael.

"Dude, who's your friend?" she asked.

Melanie turned and remembered herself. She
smiled widely.

"Oh, this is my personal Angel," she
said.

Michael furrowed his brow and looked at her
as if to ask "Really?"

"Oh, unclench," Melanie said. She then took
the time to offer his name to her friends.

"Cool name," the Goth said. Michael had to
laugh, and then feeling a bit mischievous himself, he rearranged
the wine glasses and punched Melanie on the shoulder.

"Ow, you big jerk. What'd you do that
for?"

Michael chuckled. He hadn't punched Melanie
hard, and knew she was teasing him. He then nodded to the
women.

"Who are your friends?" he asked.

"Oh, that’s right. This is Amber and Dagger,"
she said.

No clarification was needed. Michael knew
which one needed to be called Dagger. He nodded his head and
greeted the women warmly.

Amber shook her head, "Seriously, Melanie,
how do you remember to get out of bed in the morning?"

"I get hungry," Melanie replied without a
pause. "Oh, there's Derek. Come on, girl. You need to apologize to
him."

Without another word, Melanie grabbed Dagger
and led her across the room, leaving Michael alone with Amber.
Michael watched his lover drag Dagger along much as she had dragged
him. Once again, he chuckled.

When he turned his gaze back to Amber, she
was eyeing him hungrily. She had a drink of her own and took a sip
as she continued to scrutinize him; she spent a little too much
time looking at his groin.

"How long have you known Melanie?" she
asked.

Michael replied that he had only just met
her; Amber seemed to think about that comment and eyed him again,
continuing to judge him as she did.

"You're cute," she said.

"Well, I am an Angel," he stated.

It was a stock reply of his, and one he had
used on numerous occasions with women. It always seemed to have the
same effect; this time its effect was exaggerated.

"Really!" she exclaimed. "Are Angels any good
in bed?" she asked with a wink.

Michael laughed, "I wouldn't know, I've never
slept with one."

"Hmm, well, if you play your cards right,
maybe you can get a report from Melanie."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and I wish you luck. That girl needs
to get some."

"Does she?" he asked curiously.

"Yep, she's been dry for over a year, but
you're cute. You may get somewhere."

Michael smirked suddenly and had to bite his
lip. He turned away for a second and brought one of the wine
glasses to his lips as he stifled a reply.

"Shut up!" Amber exclaimed slowly in
disbelief.

Michael turned back, and Amber was staring at
him with her mouth open and a posture that made it obvious she was
incredulous.

"You got Melanie into bed?" she asked loud
enough to turn a few heads. "How the hell did you do that?"

Michael didn't know what to say. He didn't
like to talk about his sex life with anyone, and here was a
stranger that was quickly delving into the topic. Not to mention
she was the friend of his lover; true she was a friend that seemed
to want to pimp out Melanie, but even that appeared to be
thoughtfully motivated—if hoping your friend gets laid can be
considered thoughtful.

Amber didn't relent and wanted to know all
the details. Michael deferred and informed her that he wouldn't
divulge the information. Amber then closed her eyes to slits and
appeared angry. Michael could tell that she wasn't, but she tried
to play the role. When Melanie returned a moment later, Amber
changed tactics.

"How did this guy get you into bed?" she
asked Melanie.

"He was cute and bought me dinner," Melanie
replied without thinking.

"You got laid?" Dagger asked and appeared to
be as dumbfounded as Amber had been just a moment before.

"Yep," Melanie said as she approached Michael
and reached for her wine glass. Michael handed it back to her, and
then it was his turn to be dumbfounded as the three women began to
talk as if he weren't in their midst.

"Was it good?"

"How many orgasms did you have?"

Melanie took the time to laugh and provide
some answers to her friends' questions. When she saw the slight
discomfort of Michael, she took pity on him, and not for the first
time in their relationship.

"Well, he did his job very well," she
answered, and patted Michael on the chest.

"Very well?" he asked her. He looked down at
her, and she just smiled back up to him. "As I recall I was busy
looking at art and you begged me to come to bed. You may want to
tell your friends about that particular detail. I felt like I was
being used."

Melanie didn't allow Michael to play the
pitiful card. "You weren't being used, you were being interviewed,"
she said.

"Did he pass?" Amber asked.

"The interview isn't over," Melanie said, and
sipped her wine.

Michael rolled his eyes and let the women
continue their conversation. It was a strange situation for him,
and when Melanie pulled his shirt to reveal his muscle tone, the
other two women not only commented, they had to feel it.

"Ooh nice," Amber stated as she ran her
fingernails over Michael's abs, "I've never touched an angel
before."

Michael rolled his eyes, and when he was at
his most uncomfortable Melanie gave him an escape.

"I think we're making him uneasy. Look, he's
blushing," Melanie said as she smiled up at Michael.

Michael could only mockingly glare down at
her, but she kept up her tease as she spoke.

"I guess I will let you escape this torture
by taking me to the dance floor. Come on," she said as she took the
wine glasses, handed them to her friends, and pulled him away.

Michael shook his head as he chuckled. "Oh
very subtle," he said. "Tease me and treat me like meat just so
I'll take you to the dance floor."

Melanie turned into him as they walked into
the dancing area.