Bronze Bombshell On The Battleground

She adjusted the dress's hem, appreciating how it made her look pulled-together without… making demands. The smoky eye makeup still worked with this outfit as counterpoints along with her nails, so she kept them both. The suit had been too much.

Like a proposal when she hadn't even managed an apology yet. Fashion statements like she made before were often a choice and they had an aim. Now that was going to be immortalized in the wedding video and photos.

As well as her decision to go differently for the 'party'. She'd already been seen by Leana in the hall and rushed in to sit with a glass of wine before it even occurred to her. The grin on her face when she complimented Renée's earlier suit and current dress was insufferable.

[Who even changes clothes between two events like this at the same locale? The bride didn't even change out of her wedding dress.]

Renée noticed the growing silence first - the way it rippled through the reception hall. The chatter dimmed to nothing, replaced by the soft rustle of bodies turning toward the entrance. She might have ignored it, assuming it was the newlyweds gathering attention for their official entrance together, except she could see Marcus and Leana already seated at their table on the other side.

When she finally turned to look, her wine glass stopped halfway to her lips. Ayla stood in the doorway with everyone looking at her. Renée's mind immediately failed her.

All those carefully cultivated skills of human observation scattered like startled birds, leaving her unable to do anything but stare like a statue. At least until the woman began moving and it broke the petrification spell. Or rather… it set the other magic further into motion.

The bronze charmeuse of her gown caught the warm light of the reception hall. Each step she took made the fabric shift like liquid metal. The slit in her skirt offered glimpses of thigh that made Renée grateful she'd already swallowed her last sip of wine, so that she would not have choked on it.

[11/10. That's... that's not even a fair score anymore.]

Her brain tried desperately to catalog specific details. The way the cowl neckline drew even more attention to the elegance of her throat. How the deeper coral touch to her lips made her small smile more devastating than it had any right to be. The graceful sweep of her back revealed by the low cut of the dress as she turned away from Renée's table.

But… everything kept dissolving into a singular thought: that Ayla Bozkurt had dressed to kill. That she had also gone and changed into *this*. And Renée… was absolutely KIA.

She reached blindly for her wine glass again, finding it mysteriously empty in only seconds with a little running down her chin. The room had begun to buzz with conversation once more. However, Renée could still feel the aftershocks of that entrance running through her system.

She needed another drink, if only to have something to do with her hands that didn't involve reaching out. The urge to touch that shimmer of fabric and see if it flowed off just as liquid as it looked like it flowed on was almost overwhelming.

[This is what people really think of when they say someone 'cleans up nice'. Except nice is the wrong word. 'Devastating' maybe. Or 'illegal'. Unexploded ordnance?]

For the life of her, Renée couldn't understand why she kept dropping back to military things. She could only assume it was because her desire was under assault… and that the frontlines had shifted.

⛌-⛌-⛌

Across the room, Simon leaned closer to Ayla after she finally stopped sashaying and stood next to him. His voice was as dry as the champagne in his glass.

"You're smiling. And, coincidentally, still standing with your thigh on display in her exact line of sight. Should I assume you're trying to be a sex magnet, or is this just some happy accident that happened?"

The smile dropped from Ayla's face as quickly as if it had never been there, replaced by her usual cool composure. She hadn't even realized she'd been doing *one* of those things.

"Don't start."

She murmured to Simon, while shifting her weight and posture… only slightly. She still wanted to maintain a good viewing angle for her ex across the room. Her voice held that tone of indifference which somehow managed to sound especially chilly in contrast to her warm color tone fashion.

Her work partner merely lifted his champagne to her in toasting acknowledgment, though his eyes held that judging look she particularly disliked.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Though you might want to note that your writer 'friend' is about to either find a whole bottle of wine or spontaneously combust."

Ayla didn't turn to look at his provocation - that would be too obvious. But she did catch Renée's reflection in one of the reception hall's nearby decorative mirrors. With focus, she could note how the woman's fingers were white-knuckled around her empty glass.

[Good.]

She told herself it was just reciprocation for doing that to her with the suit. The satisfaction lasted approximately thirty seconds. Then she found herself moving toward the bar, procuring a fresh glass of the same red she'd noticed Renée drinking earlier.

The lawyer wanted to file away what she saw in the mirror. That wedding planner had just touched Renée's arm while passing by, probably just asking if she needed anything. But after all those lingering looks at her legs and back a bit ago, she felt a strong pull to get in the way of her ex girlfriend looking for a different… *outlet*.

Across the room, Renée was desperately trying to remember how to form coherent sentences after Ayla appeared at her table like some sort of bronze-draped apparition. The woman bent over to place the wine glass down, the cowl of her neckline falling forward in a way that seemed both calculated and careless.

It revealed more of her front - skin and cleavage - than Renée remembered her ever displaying in public when they dated. She was sure the look on her face and the way she sat up higher to watch as she pulled away was too obvious.

[This is... new. Different. When did she get so...]

"You looked like you could use a refill."

Ayla said simply. But how could anything between them be so simple?