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door just enough to see his face. He looked down at her and smiled softly. "Hello, Royal." His minty breath floated down to her.
         "What do you want, Dmitry?" she asked, looking him up and down. He was soaking wet. His blonde tendrils were trenched in rain and his body made a small pool of water under him.
         "I'm here to take you out," he reasoned, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever she was hiding behind the door.
         "What?"
         "Your exact words earlier today were that I could take you out, but not with my girlfriend" he smacked his lips and raised his eyebrows. His accent was even heavier now that he had been drinking. It was almost impossible to understand what he was saying when he spoke quickly. Finally, he stopped his rambling. "Hey, what are you wearing in there?" His train of thought jumped when he saw bare skin.
         "None of your damned business," Royal said, moving away from the door. "Well, I meant that you could take me out at a decent hour, not now."
         "What's wrong with now? You don't look busy," he leaned down further to her and smiled. "There had better not be anyone in there." His voice was deep.
         "Of course not. Stop being stupid."
         "Only you would think that was stupid," he shook his head. "Okay, then why won't you go out with me now?"
         "It's too late at night," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
         "For whom?"
         "Me." Royal tried to keep from laughing. "What happened? Did your girlfriend get tired of you?"
         Dmitry rolled his eyes. "No, I got tired of her. I sent her away, and she is not my girlfriend for the umpteenth time." Dmitry sighed. "Royal, I want to come inside and sit down. I'm drunk. This hallway is not."
         "Not what?" She pushed the door up a little more.
         "Accommodating." He wiped his tired eyes. "No," Royal said, watching him as he walked to the stairwell and slid down the opposite wall to sit on the floor.
         "Fine. I'll sit out here and sleep at your doorstep like dog," he yawned.
         "Fine with me," Royal said, as she closed the door and locked it, but from her peep hole, she could see that Dmitry did not move.
         She snickered. He was so pitiful and so dramatic. He deserved an Oscar for his performance. She started to leave him there until morning but decided to slip on a pair of jeans and t-shirt.
         When she was fully dressed, she opened the door to find him snoring lightly.
         "Wake up, sleepyhead. I thought that you said that you wanted to go out?" She locked her door behind her.
         "Yeah," he wiped his watering eyes. "I'm up... ready." Getting up off the ground, he stretched his long body and moved out the way so that she could get to the stairs. He followed her down to the back door, where she found Anatoly standing out in the rain with a large black umbrella waiting for them.
         "You've been waiting here the whole time?" she asked horrified.
         Anatoly did not speak to her or blink. He simply raised the umbrella to cover her body from the rain and escorted the two of them to Dmitry's limousine.
         It really did not bother Royal that Anatoly would not answer her. He rarely spoke. At first, she thought him to be a mute, until once she heard him speaking in Russian on his cell phone. After that, she decided that he simply didn't speak English.
         Once they were inside the limo, Royal sat across from Dmitry, curiously looking at his outfit. He was in a tailored black-tuxedo. She was in jeans. Where could they go as mismatched as they were?
         "So, tell me what happened," she demanded, reaching over into the distinctively expensive French silver-plated bronze & brass champagne bucket to open the unopened bottle of Louis Roederer Champagne Cristal Brut Rose. She looked down at the bottle impressed. This was at least at $500 bottle, yet he kept it stocked like it was Red Bull.
         "Night ended