But all of Tina’s doubts flew away with the sudden gust of wind that greeted Bette’s arrival.  She sighed — here Bette was. 

Tina’s heart had started beating faster the moment she’d spied Bette walking halfway down the lobby, in anticipation of spending a day together with her.  But her breath had stopped upon getting an eyeful of the sexy brunette, and her jaw-dropping outfit.  In fact, everyone Bette had walked past in the lobby also dropped their mouths slightly agape, eyes trailing in the wake of the brunette’s sexy saunter down the lobby.  More than a few pairs had followed her slow exit through the thick doors of the hotel.

”Mother of ….. Bette Porter!” Tina exclaimed. ”I said casual.  C-a-s-u-a-l!”

 ”I can spell, Tina,” Bette responded dryly.  A smile played on her lips, fingers slowly twirling the slender stem of the pink rose that she continued to smell.

”Apparently not!” Tina protested, put-off, for some reason, by the brunette’s sexy get-up.

She pointed to Bette’s stunning outfit, ”Just…whaaa…….what is that?”

”Chanel,” Bette shrugged. She flipped her sunglasses up, eyebrows arched, hips cocked, luminous brown eyes teasing and seductive.

The brunette had selected an oh-so-trendy silk-cotton maxi dress to wear that morning, a gift from the Chairman of the Charles de Gaulle Airport and his wife, and with whom she had struck a business agreement over the spring.  Over the space of a few meetings, the initially acrimonious discussions with the Chairman had evolved into friendlier exchanges, particularly as Bette’s charms began to penetrate the veneer of the autocratic Frenchman.  In the process, Bette had even managed to establish a friendship with the Chairman’s wife, who had met Bette when the Chairman had invited Bette over for a casual dinner with the couple in their elegant Parisian apartment one evening.  Like her husband, the elegant Madame had been completely taken by the charms of the brunette.

When Bette first arrived in her hotel suite two days ago, she found a gift box emblazoned with Chanel’s unmistakable icon, sitting on the table, along with a huge bouquet of lavender, baby’s breath, irises, and other late spring flowers.  Bette inhaled the air upon entering the room, enjoying how wonderfully the floral bouquet had perfumed the suite.  She flipped the box open, and gasped when she saw the fashionable dress, neatly folded under translucent black and white paper, with a warm note from the chairman and his wife tucked inside, welcoming her back to Paris.  The wife explained she had picked it out herself, and hoped that Bette would like it.