 Independence Day
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Jul. 4th, 2009 @ 10:30 am 
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VIP parties were the best places to make contact with her targets, this one was going to be no exception. Stark was the party type and he would not miss a party of this size and prestige. The who's who of high society and the A-Listers of stage and screen would be there to celebrate the United State's Independence Day. The Black Widow was going to make an appearance as well and make contact with the target of her mission.
The black evening gown was made of silk, diamonds kissed her earlobes and Prada cradled her feet. She was dressed to kill, figuratively. Tonight was not about killing. Tonight was more about seduction and manipulation. Two of her specialties.
Natasha entered the American Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the arm of her partner Boris. Celebrating the opening of the wing and Independence Day was a two for one deal and a way to bring in more money for the museum.
She nodded once to Boris and released his arm. The big oaf was as stupid as he was big and Natasha didn't need him messing up her chances. She grabbed a glass of champagne and made a circuit of the room searching for her target.
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This party sucks. It's a lot of old men talking about how Iron Man could (to quote one of them) "bring the balls back to Uncle Sam," and women he can't touch without revealing his chest plate and therefore his secret. The lack of sex was beginning to get to him. There's no point to talking to any of them, but just enough of a point to be seen with them.
He watches some of the fireworks and contemplates going out there and making a few of his own.
There. Stark. He was looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than this party. This could be something she could use to her advantage.
Natasha grabbed two glasses of champagne and crossed the room to where he stood.
"You look like you would like to be anywhere else but here," she said, letting her accent slip back into her speech. She had learned to speak without one a long time ago, but she still used it when it was needed. Anthony Stark didn't like plain and normal women.
She offered him the second glass of champagne.
He takes it. He's annoyed at himself as he easily turns on the charm while sipping the champagne. "I like making my own fireworks more then sitting back and watching them." This woman is giving him blue balls just looking at her. "Long way from Moscow. Are you with the embassy?"
She smiled as she sipped her champagne. "I always did prefer a man of action. No, I am not with the embassy. A friend extended an invitation to this...rather boring party."
"Ah. And this 'friend' then left you to deal with me?" Oh this is such a set-up. She's lucky he hasn't had a challenge like this since MIT.
"Nyet. Unfortunately he was unable to attend, having urgent business to attend to elsewhere. I was not going to come, but who am I to pass up an opportunity to see how you Americans like to party."
She traced along the rim of her champagne flute with the tip of a finger. "I am so far quite disappointed. Tell me, are your parties always this boring?"
He laughs. "It's the two-party system in America. Always go to the after-party."
A slow smile stretched her mouth. "I see. I was unaware that most of the fun happened after the party."
"Natalia Romanova," she said as she extended a hand.
Somehow he finds that hard to believe. "Stark. Tony Stark." He has this hunch this has something to do with his most recent hire, Professor Ivo. He mentioned having some leftover problems in Russia who were not exactly glastnost-minded.
"So...you want to see America?"
She nodded and pulled back her hand. "Yes. This is my first time traveling outside of Russia and I am curious about other countries. Are there places you would recommend I see before I return home?"
"Yup." He nods up. Moments later the pair are on the roof. "Ready?"
She smiled. "Always. Where are we going, Mr. Stark?"
She felt it and didn't even blink. He wants to think like a hero right now, but clearly this whole situation was to distract and seduce him and it's working. Why? Either way, he's going to have fun with this.
Hours later, they're more then a little drunk. He's still humming Frank Sinatra tunes from that band they danced to earlier in the night. They are covered in tacky plastic sovereigns and paint. Well, him more then her. She's the most wicked thing with a paint gun and high heels that ever walked the earth. Oh and they're a total of $400 dollars richer between the two gang-banger kids they rolled and as a net total from the blackjack table after a few thousand were won and lost.
Now they're out on the roof of a five-star hotel he owns (Getting past security and the concierge might well have been the highlight of the night.) playing quarters with a plastic cup and $1000 dollar game chips, eating caviar and Whitecastle as the sun comes up.
It had been one of the most interesting evenings of her life so far and surprisingly they were both still dressed. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she had had so much fun while working. Her evening had been made when he took her dancing and it was Sinatra no less. Always one of her favorites.
The paintball match had been interesting. It had been hard to remember to let him hit her once and awhile. Her first instinct was to not get hit, but then she had a cover to maintain. On the other hand, if she had been so worried about maintaining her cover why did she give him her real name?
"I must admit, Anthony, you were correct when you said it was the after-party that was much more interesting and fun."
"Told you." He bites into another slider. "Think your friend in New York is even going to recognize you?"
She laughed. "Probably not. Not while I'm covered in paint from our little paintball match. My dress is ruined, but it was worth it." She grabbed another slider. Natasha had always had a healthy appetite and with her job she could eat as much as she wanted and not have to worry about gaining weight. "This has been a rather nice evening. Thank you, Mr. Stark."
"It was fun playing ambassador. I'm just glad you can keep up." He sinks another chip into the cup. "America is pretty much this and corn fields for me. Loud, varied, colorful, and trigger-happy. Maybe even the slightest bit tacky, but at least it's generally tacky on our own terms."
"Want to stay for awhile?"
Natasha considered the proposition while she chewed the bite of food in her mouth. There were pros and cons to both staying and leaving and she weighed each one carefully.
"I..should probably...I would like that." She was going to say she should go, but something stopped her. She couldn't say what it was exactly, but he intrigued her.
She stood up and smiled. Let's see how interested he was. "I'm going to go get this paint off of me." She headed for the bathroom and glanced over her shoulder once to see if he was following.
He calls after her after a moment. "Is seducing you still an option?"
She paused in the doorway to the bathroom. "Seducing me is entirely up to you, Anthony." She slipped into the bathroom and the door slowly closed.
Some days the are not enough swear words. Am I going to live like this for the rest of my life?
The bathroom door clicks once she gets into the water. "I thought you were supposed to be pursuing me."
"I thought we covered chasing earlier in the night? Besides, I don't play by the rules."
"Mmmmmm...so this is why you know how to sing 'My Way' in two languages." The acoustics in here are terrific. He gets out his personal assistant device, records her voice and sends a copy of the audio file to Nick Fury with a note promising him something shiny if he can ID her. He also e-mails Pepper, Happy, and Rhodesy letting them know he's checking out an "innovative piece of work" for a few days, but that they should increase security at the homestead discretely.
"So now that you have me lured in here -"
"What shall I ever do with you, or something like that?" The hot water has already steamed up the mirrors and the shower door. She slipped the thin black straps of her dress down over her arms and the light fabric slid down the length of her body and onto a pile on the floor. A small pistol strapped to her thigh joined the dress along with a pair of black silk underwear.
She opened the door to the shower. "Step into my parlor," she said before stepping into the hot water.
| From: | (Anonymous) |
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| Date: |
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