|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
2
Bond would have been lying if he'd claimed he did not enjoy the company of women. Except tall women. And short women. Even despite the fact that short women, like tall women, in fact like all women, were all the same size lying down. Neither did Bond enjoy the company of fat women. Nor thin women. Nor plain women. Especially plain women. Why settle for a Ford Mondeo when you can drive an Aston Martin? And women with poor figures, ones who were lacking quality in the breasts and buttocks department, he had little time for those women too. Why eat hamburgers when you can dine on the finest fillet steak? However he did enjoy the company of women of all colours. Any colour. From the palest white of the English Rose to the deep blue/black of an African princess. Any colour at all. Except green. Bond had never had the opportunity to make love to a green woman, in fact he'd never even seen a green woman, but on one occasion he’d fantasised about having sex with a green woman, for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had dismissed the thought almost as quickly as he had dismissed the thought of having sex with Cherie Blair when that strange notion had entered his head, although in truth he would have needed all eight of his fingers if he were to put a finger on the myriad of the reasons that such an eventuality was a definite a non-starter, as well as his thumbs. He took in the apartment. Quite obviously designed by a decorator who knew his stuff, the money spent on it being self-evident; bright, clean lines, unfussy furniture, Swedish by the look of it but not your IKEA rubbish, obviously the apartment of a woman but without it being in the least 'girlie'. He certainly didn't envisage having to kick any cuddly toys off the bed it when it came having his way with the girl, that much was for sure. Bridget Jones she wasn't. The girl became aware of him and gave a start, an involuntary hand going to her mouth. "James Bond!" Though she was quite obviously startled on seeing him her tone of voice was completely unafraid. Bond liked that. He liked confidence in a woman and this He liked confidence in a woman and this beautiful example of the species obviously had it in abundance. She went on: "You're James Bond, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. "I am indeed." Bond stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. "But I am afraid you have the advantage of me, Miss......?" |