Porter Island chapter five (standard:action, 2784 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jul 08 2024	Views/Reads: 238/139	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Agent Betty McCloud faces her biggest challenge yet, and she's not getting any younger.

Chapter Five 

Betty checked her phone, slipped it into the tiny inside pocket of her
dress, and checked her appearance. Glossy, vibrant black hair swept 
back over one wide shoulder, leaving the other exposed, revealing the 
power there. Short black dress clinging to her firm body, emphasizing 
but not wholly exposing her well-developed breasts, enhanced by the 
precise adjustment of the shoulder straps. The sleeveless arms invited 
attention to her powerful muscles, while her dress, culminating a few 
inches above the knees, left no doubt of the shapeliness and strength 
of her thighs. Betty McCloud wasn't particularly vain, though she knew 
perfectly well that her dual attributes of natural beauty and sheer 
power would blow all other female attendees aside, including, of 
course, Shonda Stapleton. 

And despite her colleague's indiscretions, it was time to mingle with
the island's cordial and not-so-cordial figures and, more importantly, 
determine which was which. 

*** Knowing she would be expected to greet the attendees alongside
Stapleton, Betty descended the grand staircase thirty minutes before 
the start time. Joining Stapleton in the foyer, she saw the host's 
mouth form a perfect ‘O'. 

“And you lecture me about overstating oneself.” Stapleton, wearing a
full-length cream satin dress together with copious jewelry, sneered in 
obvious disapproval, which Betty shook off. “It's simply a plain, black 
dress.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Ignoring the remark, Betty swept her gaze off to the side, where two
members of the hospitality team stood ready with a collection of 
champagne flutes on a tray. Smiling, she ran her eyes over them from 
head to toe. Dressed in black waistcoats and matching trousers with 
button-down white shirts and ties, both men were slim, but Betty made a 
mental note of the taller blond male with a small scar beneath his left 
eye. Something registered with her, but she couldn't say what, and from 
his returning glance, she detected he'd picked it up, too. Unlike the 
old colonial mansion staff, the hospitality agency crew had not been 
vetted, Mike Anthony being concerned that too much vetting would arouse 
suspicions. 

Betty stood off to the side as the first guests began to filter in,
aware of Stapleton's desire to take center stage but also aware that 
her looks and appearance would steal attention her way. The early 
arrivals she deemed were likely to be the island's less influential 
figures, with the more prestigious guests arriving as the evening 
progressed. Mayor Milton Carson arrived sometime after the ball had 
commenced, entering the spacious rectangular ballroom dressed in a 
pristine white suit and trilby, which he promptly removed while 
acknowledging the two women. Introducing himself and his wife, 
Francesca, a prematurely grey-haired woman considerably smaller than 
himself, he ran his eyes fleetingly over Stapleton to Betty, where they 
locked with hers. “Mayor Milton Carson,” he drawled, “a pleasure to 
meet you and welcome you to Porter Island.” Shrewd eyes with more than 
a hint of challenge in them, she thought, a challenge Betty knew she 
was returning as he finally broke eye contact and turned to Stapleton. 
“And this is my wife, Francesca.” 

“Charmed, I'm sure.” Stapleton produced her fake smile. “Shonda
Stapleton, party hostess. Welcome to The Hurst, my honorable guests; 
you are most welcome,” she replied in her over-polished accent. “And 
thank you for attending our little gathering. My companion, Miss 
Thornton, and I are honored by your attendance.” 

“Not at all; it is always a pleasure to greet newcomers to our island.”
Carson glanced around. “The place seems to be filling up nicely. 
Congratulations on your purchase. Oh, forgive me for the assumption. 
I'm obviously assuming you purchased it. The sale of The Hurst caught 
us somewhat unawares, you see—we had no idea the grand old place had 
been reoccupied.” 

“We?” Betty cut in. 



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