Dora looked around the table and took a little sip from her wine glass. Their surroundings were glamorous, but then, they usually were, regardless of where their little group held their meetings. Today they had met for lunch at “Arabesque”, which was swiftly becoming one of the more hip new restaurants to the Gotham elite. Its chef and proprietor, Louis Leterme was a handsome 31-year old Frenchman who had started his own restaurant just six months prior, after being sous-chef at several upscale establishments all over NYC. His own heritage – a French father and a Moroccan mother – had been blended into his cooking style. As such, Arabesque offered French cuisine with a North African twist.<br/><br/>Likewise the waiters all seemed to be one, very alluring type. Most of them were tall men with black hair, brown eyes and a slightly olivy complexion, meant to convey a Mediterranean look, though there were a few women with varying hair colors and complexions amongst them as well. Dora had been following one particularly handsome specimen from the corner of her eyes, even as she was discussing the purpose of their meeting: a charity fundraiser that their little group was throwing. She sat her wine glass down and spoke up.<strong>“Alison and I went to inspect the venue yesterday afternoon, it looks gloriously beautiful and that’s before it’s even properly done up. Tanya and Serena could you tell me how you are doing on the talent and catering front?”</strong>Serena’s contacts in the music industry were indispensable in attracting the entertainment for their fund raiser. The idea was to pair some modern day, “urban” acts with classical musicians. Said acts would play at a formal dinner setting.<br/><br/>Alison let a little smile play across her lips as she walked into "Arabesque" the heels of her deep blue stilettos clicking against the tile floor. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a couple of the waiters but her gaze remained fixed on the table where Dora was seated, it would never do to let the staff know she was watching them. The stilettos were there to match the light blue trouser suit Alison was wearing, but she was wearing nothing underneath the jacket so all that was between her and a rather embarrassing exposure were two buttons.<br/><br/>Alison took her seat at the table as she removed her sunglasses, placed them on top of her blue leather purse and glanced around the table.<strong>"What?"</strong>she asked with fake innocence<strong>"Oh, the suit. Well I was in here last week and Pierre, who's over there by the bar, I just couldn't decide if he's naturally a little effeminate or just gay so I thought I'd give him something to look at see what his reaction is."</strong>Alison's look of innocence faded into a wicked smile<strong>"Oh and then here is Ashley. I mean why should Philip be the only one allowed to play with cute little blonde waitresses?"<br/></strong>