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By eight-thirty, the museum had filled up with what Bette referred to as “high society”. Ollie and Bette found their way to the bar the moment they walked into the museum’s lobby, “Gawd, it feels as if the whole of New York is here tonight,” Ollie complained, “Hey, can we get two dry martinis please!” Bette took surroundings as the crowd swarmed around her. After working five years as a Criminal Profiler, it had become her second nature to analyze people. Most of them looked like they wanted to be there, enjoying their drinks and chatting animatedly with their respective cliques, but as Bette turned to take her drink from Ollie, she couldn’t help but notice someone at the end of the bar, standing quietly sipping her mojito. Bette’s eyes subconsciously moved from the strangers quiet hazel eyes, to her stripped gray suit, to her black patent leather shoes.

Ollie shook Bette out of her daze, “What or who are you checking out?” Ollie laughed and tried to scan through the crowd. Bette immediately turned back to face Ollie, “Nothing, just looking at the groups of strangers who will be accompanying me when you leave me here to do your work!” Ollie smiled knowingly and put her arm around Bette’s shoulders, “I promise I will be as quick as humanly possible, I just need to get a couple of quotes for tomorrow’s broadcast.” Bette grinned as Ollie left and sipped her drink. From the corner of her eye, she found the stranger looking her direction and felt a blush rush through her. It’s probably the martini, she thought to herself before turning to the bar tender and ordering a second drink.

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She was looking at me or at least I thought she was, Gen thought to herself. Gen smiled as glanced at the curve of the stranger’s back. She found herself walking closer towards the tan slim figure in the black dress. The dress seemed to cling onto just the right curves of her body, Gen admired. “Hey,” Gen said, “I’m Gen, Gen Taylor.” Bette turned around, her eyes twinkling in the light of the room, “Hi, Bette,” she introduced herself, “Would you like a drink?” Gen shook her head and pointed to her glass, “I think I’m good for now, I just thought you might like some company since you seem to be alone.” Bette smiled, “I could definitely do with some company, my friend just left me to attend to some work things.”

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“I can’t believe that you are a Forensic anthropologist!” Bette joked, “You don’t look like you would do something like that!” “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Gen replied. “You just don’t look. Boring,” Bette said. They smiled at each other. “So, are you interested in art, or do you just come to these things for the free drinks?” Gen asked. “Well, I do appreciate the subtle beauty of the artist’s expression,” Bette replied. “My brother, Mark, actually is the curator of this museum, that’s why I’m here,” Gen explained. Gen gently took Bette’s hand and whispered, “Since you appreciate art, I want to show you something.” Bette found herself following Gen out of the crowded space through a small alleyway of the museum.

Although they were blanketed in the dim light, Bette could make out the colors of the massive canvases that surrounded them. Not letting go of her hand, Gen led Bette through the store room until they stopped in front of the biggest canvas in the room. Gen lifted the cloth to reveal the color-filled canvas before turning to smile at Bette. “I have no idea what the artist’s name is, but my brother showed it to me a couple weeks ago and I was absolutely blown away by the use to colors and strokes and…” Gen’s voice trailed off as she gently traced the painting’s gold frame. Bette took a step closer as their hands brushed against each other. Gen turned and found herself starring into Bette’s deep brown eyes. As they starred at each other in the darkness, Gen leaned forward and ran her fingers through Bette’s wavy mane before gently kissing Bette on the lips. Bette responded for a moment before taking a step backwards and looking at Gen with shock. They stood in silence for a split second, the tension growing steadily between them. With fierce passion, Bette pulled Gen closer and the kiss deepened. As they collapsed onto the velvet canvas covering, their hands moved along each other’s bodies, finding buttons and zippers, removing layers of clothing until there was nothing else left to remove.