Heels clicking could be heard on the hard stone floor. The woman continues to walk through the hangar. The passing windows show a reflection of the woman. Her night black hair cascades down her back. In the front, it's parted on the side, framing her heart-shaped face. Her sharp dark brown eyes could pass easily as black, piercing you with their glare. Her thin pink lips start to smile with bright white teeth flashing. Perfectly arched eyebrows complete the look of an 'on a mission' female. She's dressed in a dark pinstripe pencil skirt suit. Her 5'6 frame could be easily mistaken in her 4 inch sleek black stiletto heels.
Behind her was a smooth 6'0 man holding a briefcase. His high cheekbones, warm grey eyes, blond hair hanging loosely to the base of his neck. His build could be seen as the makings of Eros. He is dressed in a crisp white buttoned shirt and creased black slacks. On his feet were expensive black leather dress shoes. He was dressed to perfection.
'Click, click, click, click' The sound of the heels come to a halt. The woman takes a look at the sight before her. It's an 8'6, 2.59 meter-wide cabin. 16 large Gulfstream panoramic windows, each 28 by 20.5 inches. Looking inside the windows, the woman sees handcrafted leather recliners, a private stateroom, a convection oven, large ice drawers, and fitted storage. She turns away and looks for an attendant. When she finds one, the attendant turns to look with a smile on her face. The man began to open the briefcase, revealing a briefcase full of hundred bills.
The woman grins wickedly and says, "I'm Marsha Mclean and this is my partner Blaise Jordan. That jet over there, I want it."
The evening falls into the luxury mansion house. The corridors were quiet, the servants were done for the night. The large white light of the moon shines into the balconies of the east wing of the house.
Marsha casually crossed her right leg over her left in her comfortable leather armchair. The fireplace crackles in the dark den. Blaise was lounging on the recliner, reading through letters. Marsha was clicking on her laptop on her lap with her perfect manicured nails, reading letters and watching audition videos.
"Lame. Boring. Crazy. Pathetic!" She exclaims "Blaise! Have you found anything good?"
"Yes ma'am, this one fellow is quite the artist. Bit of a snob."
"I want him."
"Him? You wound me." Blaise dramatizes, clutching his heart.
"I mean of no intimate relationship darling. You know that's only reserved for you." She looks towards him and winks. A figure comes into the room, looking similar to Marsha.
"Could you NOT flirt while I'm still here? I would like to keep the contents of my stomach actually stomach." the man exclaims.
"Oh don't be such a drab Chrissy dear! I am only trying to lighten the mood of finding contestants."
"YOU'RE THE REASON I WAS FIRED?!" Chris exclaims
"Yup," she responds, popping the 'p' "So could you be a dear and leave. You're ruining my concentration." Marsha goes back to her search.
"Don't be upset that your sister will be a much better and respectable host than you," Blaise smirks.
Chris looks at the two going through their search, shakes his head, and walks away mumbling, "Whatever, I didn't wanna do another season anyway."
After Chris leaves, the two leave back to their search. Soon, Marsha exclaims, "Blaise, I'm finished! Could you be a wonderful hunk of a man and make the list of the people for me? I will even let you generalize their personalitiiiiiies"
Blaise smirks, "With pleasure milady." And with that he made the final list. Marsha looks at the list when Blaise is done.
"You chose quite the descriptions. This is why I love you." Marsh closes in to Blaise's embrace and the two pay no attention the retching sounds Chris makes in the entryway.