To catch such a woman -- an eloquent, sophisticated, MASTERFUL purveyor of the English tongue, a walking epitome of class and the stiff upper lip that defined her country -- off-guard, was more satisfying than Ruth could have ever expected. But here she was, having uttered one sentence that had Pamela Travers stumbling over her words, which no doubt proved the point she was trying to make. In all honesty, when they’d first met, she’d had the other woman pegged as possibly the least likely person to ever look at her in that way, a way that went deeper and more INTENSE than mere friendship. A lusting for something more.
That had certainly taught her not to JUDGE by appearances.
❛❛ I think you know exactly how, Pam. ❜❜
A knowing smile curved her rouged lips as she reached for her own glass of whiskey, taking a sip in -- what was uncharacteristic for her -- a rather ladylike fashion. The woman fascinated her; that much was for certain. And, without succumbing to that most AMERICAN of tendencies, Ruth was sure that she could listen to Pamela talk in her crisp, clean British accent all day long. She cleared her throat. ❛❛ No need to be coy or reserved about it. We could even call this a date if you like. ❜❜
@perfectlycapable | cont.
