Feeling delightfully decadent, Muffy drove over to the hotel and sat down at the bar, as instructed, to wait for her dinner companions.Feeling delightfully decadent, Muffy drove over to the hotel and sat down at the bar, as instructed, to wait for her dinner companions. Halfway into her drink she heard someone say, "Muffy?" Swinging around on the stool, she was confronted by the deepest steel-blue eyes she'd ever seen. They looked mildly inquisitive, and were accompanied by a mass of tousled sandy hair, a finely chiseled face and an enormous pair of shoulders. This tanned god filled her field of vision, he seemed larger than life. "Ed?" she gasped. "Sorry, luv," the god answered, "Ed's the short fella over there. The nime's Mike." Muffy was momentarily confused, she had forgotten that Ed had described himself as having black hair and brown eyes. She sat back and shifted her gaze where Mike indicated. Indeed, this guy matched Ed's description to a "T", 5'9", thick black hair, dark brown eyes, a mustache and that dark complexion. He looked Mediterranean, but she recalled he was half hispanic. He also had thin framed glasses, which he had never mentioned but which did not seem out of place - they framed his face nicely. But there was that slightly mischievous gleam to his dark eyes, just as she had known there would be. "Hi, doll," he grinned, "and this is Maureen." The third member of this group was a smallish woman, perhaps 5' tall, with masses of red curls, a classic Irish face with a light spray of freckles across her nose, and what appeared to be a good figure, although because she was wearing a raincoat it was hard to tell. |