Batty easily pushed the dirt out of the bottoms of her stiletto sandals. People hovered around her, handing her tissues, giving words of advice. Helping. As she removed her curvaceous arm from an equally luscious leg, the thin silk of her dress brushed pleasantly against her face. The party wouldn’t be over for hours. She had almost forgotten where they were, and had to remind herself that she was on a boat. Planting her feet firmly, she stretched until her posture reached impeccable status. The temperature had certainly risen, not surprising given the number of people filling the low, fairly cramped quarters of the green room. She removed her matching brocade jacket; shook her hair loose as it came off. It would be cooler out on deck, but in order to get there she would have to fend of innumerable greetings from the women and obvious stares from the men. She hated knowing that people were staring at her. Loosening the sash around her waist, she contemplated for a minute before swaying slowly out of the congested room.
Giant potted trees stood indifferently outside, the obvious natural sheen of their green leaves contrasting to the garish colors on many of the party’s attendees. They were added to the boat as soon as its spring season began, emerging from a contained hothouse below deck. The boat’s owner had an impressive skill for timing, never exposing the plants to cold air too quickly or causing them to meet premature deaths. If it remained cold during more that half of the spring, they would refrain from using them at all, in the interest of fairness to all customers. Once fall arrived they quickly shed their leaves and died, unable to withstand the colder ocean climates. Batty did not pause to watch their shadows dancing on the white plains of the deck. She remained indifferent to the trees, contented enough by the coolness of the night air.
