"I prefer martinis this time of evening," Priscilla was saying without glancing back at her. "And seeing you have no preference. An olive, or lemon twist?"
"Fine. Either," DesirЋe automatically responded, hardly knowing what she was saying as she tried to reason the meaning behind it all. Nothing was happening as she had anticipated.
"I know you're quite up-tight about our phone-conversation," Priscilla said in a calculatedly disarming tone as she gracefully returned to the couch with their drinks, smiling and handing one to DesirЋe before she eased downward onto the edge of the cushion. "I think such things are better done on a full stomach, DesirЋe dear, so let's have dinner first, just you and me, then talk." With that, she confidently added an additional lie: "I prepared it myself, orange duck, and not very good, I'm afraid, but at least private, as this little get-together should be."
DesirЋe sat forward, running her tiny tongue-tip over her lips nervously. "Just… what is this… little get-together all about, Priscilla?"
Surprising DesirЋe, the stunning girl lightly laughed, then charmingly arose to her feet. "Later, darling. Now, why don't you give me a hand in the kitchen? There's only the two of us tonight. Would you mind?"
Totally overwhelmed by the other's captivating manner, DesirЋe gained her feet and took her drink, as did her hostess, into the elaborate kitchen, readily helping with the dinner they carried to the dining table. Finally, they sat down at an intimate setting, eating scrumptiously, DesirЋe thought, with the proper wines, the light conversation doing nothing but putting her at ease, and making her wonder if any of their intensive exchange on the telephone had ever taken place.