Duched(7)

 

 

 

Swiss is my security detail in charge of following me around whenever I enter the states. We pay to keep his calendar free considering I have no defined schedule and my father requires all members of the royal family to travel in public with protection. I believe it's ridiculous to have that rule while I'm here. Outside of the major cities that are heavily populated by celebrities, most people rarely recognize this face as anything other than a bed mate they desire. Hell, until Kristopher married Sophia whose father is American, most of this country didn't give a shit about Doctenn's socialites. Which is interesting considering the impressive mix of their language and culture has been smashed into ours for generations. However, the minute an American woman began dating an actual prince, their interest spiked, turning our royal family into a constant trending topic for this country as well as our own. Guess I should work on keeping my pants up or the curtains closed, hm? From the messages my brother has been sending me today, my little stunt is gaining me more attention than ever before. Apparently, the naked blonde who sent the photo yesterday is an American actress this country adores. Can't say I feel the same. Her cock sucking ability lacked focus and effort. Hope she gives more energy in rehearsing her lines than she does in foreplay.  

 

 

 

Dana quickly squeals, "Thank you, Kellan! Thank you so much!"

 

 

 

I give her a wink and stroll off towards the left where a group of overly eager women are gathered around a thin man with intricate designs buzzed into his jet-black hair.

 

 

 

This should be relatively easy.

 

 

 

Sauntering Treme's direction with my glass in one hand and the other in my pocket, I scan the gallery in hopes of finding someone to pass the time with.

 

 

 

As you can see my best mate's mission is to please his girlfriend for probably the next hour and as I might've mentioned before, I find art dreadfully boring. You might not feel that's necessary to repeat, but quite frankly it is. Keep your hopes up that I find someone who feels as equally annoyed by the subject so that we can sneak away together. Perhaps on the balcony. It's been awhile since I've made out with anyone on a balcony.

 

 

 

I prepare to pause just behind the man of the evening when a pair of long, latte colored legs glide into my view. My eyes waste no time roaming down her backside that is presented to me. I'm immediately intrigued by the shoulder tattoo I can't quite make out from this distance and pleased with the deliciously round ass being displayed in an unusual black cocktail dress.

 

 

 

It is unusual, isn't it? Between the way it has one thin strap while the other is thick and how it seems to purposely hug her hips tightly yet loosely fall to the back of her knees suggests the designer was indecisive. Or perhaps, the designer made it for women who were indecisive. You know, women who struggle to make decisions happen to adore me. I have no problem taking control.

 

 

 

I casually move her direction, continuing my observation while nursing the glass of champagne. The woman, who hasn't changed art displays yet, tilts her head to one side as if in contemplation.

 

 

 

When I arrive beside her, I paste my attention on the piece of so called art, and question, "Deciding whether it looks like a swan or duck?"

 

 

 

"Actually, I was wondering why this one was done with pastels while the majority of the others were done with watercolors."

 

 

 

"Maybe he got bored."

 

 

 

"Maybe this one means more to him."

 

 

 

Oh...Lucky me. She's actually into art. Figures, one way or another I would be forced to pretend that any of this shit is remotely fascinating. At least with her it might end with the two of us mixing paints....You like what I did there? Fine. It wasn't my most clever moment.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

 

 

"And the answer is a swan," she states giving me a quick smirk before strolling away. "Obviously..."

 

 

 

Her remark causes me to grin in return and follow.

 

 

 

Maybe she won't be as dull as I was assuming.

 

 

 

This time when we stop in front of a display, I ask, "What about this one? A game of Twister gone awry?"

 

 

 

The corner of her lip tugs upward.

 

 

 

She has a sense of humor. I like that...

 

 

 

"Should I go ahead and put my right hand on red?"