Soul Sucker

Ingrid Anderson (Frances Dortmund’s) POV

Denver, Colorado

Saturday, August 13, 2022

“You look gorgeous, Mom.”

I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror of my dressing room. Lana had braided my blonde hair in multiple rows around my head, then curled the ends behind my head. It went well with the minimal makeup she applied, just enough to set off my crystal-blue eyes and high cheekbones. Instead of lipstick, my thin lips had gloss. The ice-blue sleeveless ball gown emphasized my height and toned figure, flowing over my curves to my ankles and the matching heels. Thin straps held up the bust line, showing off the curves of my breasts and toned shoulders. I stuck my right leg forward, exposing a long expanse of tanned thigh through the hip-high slit. The back of the dress showed off my back muscles, the cut stopping just above the crack of my ass. This body didn’t have much T&A, but I exuded the sex appeal of an elite female athlete.

Those teenage bimbos didn’t stand a chance.

Lana handed me a silver clutch with my things in it. I walked out to the main area of my condo, where Lonnie was waiting for me in his tuxedo. “You look fantastic, Mom.”

“Thanks, baby. You look handsome yourself. Tell me about tonight’s event.” I’d flown in from my identity-updating adventure just an hour ago, having only enough time to shower and dress before it was time to go. Lonnie’s text about the black-tie fundraiser didn’t have a lot of detail.

“It’s a black-tie fundraiser for To Write Love on Her Arms. It’s a nonprofit that helps people suffering from mental health issues through treatment and recovery.”

“Why this one?”

“It’s called the Failure Ball, held on a rooftop downtown. There is the usual drinking, snacking, and dancing. The event celebrates overcoming failures in life and business. The host and guest speakers confess the failures and fuckups they’ve had on the way to business success. From what the organizer and website described, it’s a fun evening. Landon Street is a patron and spoke at last year’s event.”

The elevator arrived at our floor, and Lana reminded us to get photographed at the event. It would help establish our new identity, after all.

Lonnie escorted me to his car, a two-seater Jaguar F-class convertible. I had to be careful with my tight-fitting dress on the low seat, but it was a comfortable and fast ride to the event. Lonnie came around to help me exit, tossing the keys to the attendant as the cameras flashed. I flashed a lot of skin as I got out, and I walked into the building with the confidence and sexuality of a predator on the hunt.

Lonnie was my business agent tonight, not my date. The cover story was that I’d moved to Denver for the nearby skiing and climbing after receiving a large inheritance. I’d grown up in Finland and attended private schools and college in Switzerland. Now twenty-six and single, I wanted to have fun. Lonnie’s job was to find investment opportunities as I diversified my investments.

It took less than twenty minutes for the gossip about the new girl to make the rounds at the party. I got hit on for my beauty and hit up for my money a dozen times in the first hour. I deflected the passes and referred the investment proposals to my ‘financial advisor’ across the room. Moving money around companies and hiding the origins were his thing.

Landon Street showed up late with a bimbo on his arm. She fit his ‘type;’ blonde, stacked, and dumb as a box of rocks. She was already taking cellphone pictures for her Instagram account.

I was sure of two things: she wasn’t old enough to drink the champagne she held, and the slut could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. I'd seen her type thousands of times.

Landon was a handsome guy, exuding energy and passion with every movement. He was a known quantity in this crowd, wealthy and successful. Men and women flocked to him like seagulls when you’re just trying to eat a sandwich.

I stayed away, catching his eye a few times through the crowd. I moved to the bar, remaining in his line of sight. I ordered a glass of wine, leaning forward to display my muscular ass through the tight dress. “He can’t take his eyes off you,” Lonnie reported as he joined me.

“I’ll let him approach first. It’s better if he doesn’t,” I replied. “He’s got a date, so I’m hoping he can control himself long enough to take the little tramp home before he makes a move.”

“It’s not like you to show jealousy.”

“I hope this works. I don’t want to learn rock climbing while carrying around tits like that. Lana complains about it constantly, so I know it isn’t fun.”

He chuckled as he got his drink. “He’s coming over.”

I didn’t look back. “Give me a minute, then pull me away to listen to someone’s investment pitch.” He nodded and walked off.

Landon got a good view of my back as he moved into the open spot. “I heard you climb,” he said to break the ice.

“Not as well as you, Mr. Street, but that’s to be expected. Ingrid Anderson,” I said as I extended my hand European-style, palm down.

“Landon, please. It’s my pleasure,” he said as he took my hand gently and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “I haven’t seen you on the cliffs. I would have remembered such a beauty.”

“I haven’t been here long, and I’m taking classes. I bagged a 5.8 at the Flatirons last weekend with advice from my instructor.”

“That’s impressive. You’ve got a climber’s body.”

“Thanks. I do lots of running and skiing. Outdoor activities are my passion.”

He smiled. “Mine too.” He glanced back at his date as the bartender handed him his drinks. The pink champagne was for the hussy, and the scotch on the rocks was his.

Lonnie moved back in. “Excuse me,” he said. “Ingrid, you should talk to this gentleman I met about energy stocks.”

I picked up my bourbon on the rocks and turned to follow him. The pheromones I was giving off were affecting the people around me. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Street.” I walked off, feeling his stare on my ass the whole way.

“That went well,” Lonnie whispered.

“I caught his attention. He’ll go back to his date and try to find a way to take me home instead, but we won’t be here by then.” I circulated among the party guests for another twenty minutes before we slipped away from the crowd. Ten minutes later, we were driving through the warm night with the top down.

“I should go back after I drop you off,” he told me. “I was making lots of good contacts.”

“Some of them female?” I’d seen a few young lovelies seeking his attention.

“Busted,” he said with a grin. “I’m not a monk, after all.”

“Knock yourself out. I’m going to hit the hot tub, then get some rest. It’s been a long week.”

He looked over at me at a stoplight. “Care to make a bet?”

“On what?”

“How long it takes him to call you for a date.”

I rolled my eyes. “Landon will have my phone number before he leaves tonight.”

He nodded. “Probably from me when I return without you. I’m sure he knew I wasn’t your date before striking up that conversation tonight.”

I thought about it. “What’s the over/under?”

“This time tomorrow. I’ll take the under.”

Landon was interested, but he’d do his due diligence before asking me out. That would take a while. “What’s the bet?”

“An hour massage.”

There was no point betting money since we all shared the same pot. If we wanted something, we bought it. Services were more fun. “You’re on.”

He dropped me at the front door of our building, then drove off.

I lost the bet. He asked me to dinner on Sunday night.