Glamorous (#Watty 2017) [Completed]

Ten.

I  like my money where I can see it...hanging in my closet.

Billy de lioncourt, was a jolie laide.

A woman in other words known as      "pretty ugly" who is neither pretty or ugly in the conventional way.
She can be alluring, if she knows how to use her looks or fashionable, if she knows how to wear clothes or in some cases enchanting for her personality and talent but her looks are never anything to write back home about but never ever so badly off as to merit the word ugly attached to them.
Billy at her best was one of such ladies.
A Lady of French birth. She was well educated, cleverly cultivated and brilliant.
She had known from a young age that her chances of ever  being called a beauty were close to nil but with her excellent lineage and intelligence she had accepted that and cultivated her other good qualities. So she  had learned and perfected her charm over the years and learnt to use her beautiful captivating voice and her perfect smile to the fullest.
Life had too much to offer and her lack of feminine wiles wasn't about to slow her and let life pass her by.

Born in an aristocratic family, money hadn't been an issue but she had craved popularity. Fame among the high society circles and as a result she had married an older titled man who only brought his title to the table but that was more than enough.
And so she has settled into marriage life with ease, learning and making connection among the ton as she fed her predilection for antique. Collecting and building their collection.

Now thirty years later, her inheritance dwindling and her husband dead she couldn't be more ready to spread her wings. To start her widowhood in style.
With her brains, mature sophisticated style and worldly fashion sense nothing could stop her.
She dressed to impress but never had much use of men.
Sitting on her bed she knew she had to do something about her almost pauper situation. And what better option than the richest lady in America.
Sasha o"O'Neill. She had met her decades ago when she was a happy wife and now a rich widow she was as better mine field as any.
Her bags were already packed.
Her mind made up.
She was forgoing her high social life in the  splendor of Paris for greener pastures of America.
And her way to Sasha was through Michael. The player boy who she doubted could resist her charm.
After all she had a lifetime of practice.

#####

Sasha quickly slammed the bathroom door shut as quietly as possible in her shock and haste and leaned against it breathing hard. Her heart was beating a tattoo on her chest.
The shower was running and she could still hear Michael's singing in a surprisingly good voice above the jets of water pelting the tiled floor.

Her treacherous mind flashed back to his hot wet body down to his...

she shook her head her curly hair tumbling to her shoulder as she tried to dispel the erotic image forever seared on her mind.
How was she ever going to look him straight in the eye again after seeing all of him in his glorious nakedness?

She was then filled with anger in a bid to try and reign in on her unexpected desire and lust. After two days with kelvin and their stupid sexual tension she couldn't allow herself to act upon the least she deserved was a quiet long indulgent bath but no. She just had to walk in on the hottest man she knew who happened to be her best friend stack naked in her bathroom.
Wasn't that even fair? Hadn't she suffered enough?

"Mom what are you doing?"

She groaned.
  Ignoring the question and hating her small charade had had an audience she asked, knowing full well the answer but asking nevertheless.
" How long have you been standing there?"