Chandler always got what she wanted, including her cherry-red Lamborghini, a gift from an Arab prince. Balenciaga, Givenchy—only the most expensive brands would do. She wore Mikimoto pearls tonight, to accent a black Oscar de la Renta gown. It was premier night at the Cannes Film Festival, and she was alone.
Her leading man was gorgeous, but married. She wasn’t about to break up the happy home.
“Who am I kidding?” she said aloud, punching up his number on her cell phone. “Hello, handsome,” she purred. “Where are you?”
“Downstairs, at the bar.”
“I’m bored. Come on up.”
Let’s read what the others wrote: