( This scene is set in the Bette Porter Gallery, Los Angeles, five days prior to the trip to Paris.  Eric has taken Tina to an event in the Gallery. )

“Bette? Bette?” Eric was calling the brunette’s name, and about to tap the back of Bette’s shoulder.

Moments before that, George had inquired about a Jodie Lerner piece, which unexpectedly affected Bette.  Thankfully, George managed to tactfully lead the crowd away from Bette, and she was struggling to regain her composure.  As she did, she thought she heard someone call her name.  She spun around to look for the source.

Bette saw Eric, but sucked a breath in when she glanced at Eric’s companion, a lithe, sexy blonde with sparkling hazel eyes, and a knock-out figure.

The three of them were standing underneath the angled lights shining overhead, which were meant to subtly cast the art hung in the gallery walls in a flattering light, to allow visitors to appreciate them at their best.  From Bette’s viewpoint, the angle of the lights backlit the woman perfectly, in a most unexpected manner, picking up the twinkle in her green dress, and lending a halo effect to her soft blonde tresses. Her eyes traveled up and down the woman, noting how her dress clung to her shape, a deep v-shape front accentuating the sexy body underneath, and how the asymmetrical cut of the dress ended softly just below the blonde’s knees. 

Bette’s eyes moved down slowly, lingering on the alluring breasts showing slightly, to the roman-style strapped stilettos that were lightly worn by a pair of long, slim, creamy legs.  Her gaze travelled back up, noting flawless, almost natural make-up of the blonde, with just the right tint of lipstick to complement the sun-kissed skin of the owner’s beautiful face. Bette eyed pillow-soft lips, now slightly parted, and unconsciously licked her own. Something familiar about her, she’d thought, trying to tease a memory out.

“Bette, I’d like you to meet Tina Kennard, my girlfriend. Tina, this is Bette Porter.”

Bette flashed a smile, a hint of disappointment in her eyes, for some reason at the mention of Tina being someone’s girlfriend, but extended a welcoming hand nonetheless.

Tina had stopped breathing, in the meantime.  She’d felt Bette’s eyes roam, as if undressing her, or so it seemed, and had flushed under the frankly sexual appraisal of her body.   Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed what’s happening here, between us?, she’d thought.