Sherri looked magnificent. The flimsy red dress with the deep decolletage showed off her brand-new boobs, and Max's thick gold and diamond tennis bracelet made the perfect complement to the outfit - a necklace would've just cluttered the lines of the dress and distracted from the view.
It was the best table in the restaurant, and as she sat there alone, she was aware of the glances in her direction. More men than women would stare, of course, but the women always looked longer. They wanted to see something besides a bland smile on her face. The men, though - they only took in the superficial details. Aware of the audience, Sherri refrained from checking her lipstick, smiled just enough at the waiter who had silently appeared at her elbow, and ordered an expensive Scotch whiskey, neat. It would irritate the women and the intrigue the men.
Thanking god for booze, Sherri wondered what else she could do to pass the time. The appetizer menu arrived with no prices - of course. Four perfect little choices, all beyond hip and more taste than substance. "Lemon-grass foam with oyster reduction and bacon pearls" - what the hell? At least it was amusing reading. She toyed with her left earring, making sure that the expensive little bauble was still firmly attached to her ear, before giving in to temptation.
The bracelet glinted alluringly in the discreet candlelight of the restaturant as she checked her smartphone again. Max was never on time, but always insisted that she be there waiting for him when he swept in with his financial entourage, his reporters, and that person that she always privately thought of as his Famous Groupie of the Week. She didn't care who it was anymore. Waiting for Max, looking perfect - all part of the deal.
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