The event was the epitome of class and wealth. It required some special invitation and nobody could enter who didn’t hold in their hand the precious envelope. There might have been some who would have cheated… but they didn’t count on the security who knew to weigh the invites on a scale; the weight of the paper was very specific and if the card one gave them didn’t match the specification they were thrown out, ceremoniously mind you. One didn’t want a scandal. It was, after all, a widely publicized event, the most renowned of its class. It wouldn’t do to have someone complain. Yet, even the newest person in town knew that trying to come with a fake invitation was a risk.
When the black limo stopped in front of the theatre, all eyes turned towards it. Nothing that surprising. After all they’d turned to follow all reception guests ever since the beginning of the red carpet. The gala would be a closeted affair, where nobody from the public could enter. There were no press members among the guests and only one who was linked – years ago – to a photo magazine. But he wasn’t here as a photographer; in fact, his camera had been seized by security. But the coming in of the guests – and the removal of unwanted people – was a very visible thing. It balanced the secrecy of the dinner.
So when the limo arrived, everyone squinted to guess who the next person would be. True guest or not? Woman or man? And what would the clothes look like? A few guests had made fashion faux-pas but they’d been guided towards a room on the side and had come out dressed differently. In a more appropriate manner. And looking not a bit disgruntled at being remade.
The woman who stepped out of the car definitely wouldn’t know the shame of being dressed anew. Neither would the man who followed. Both were perfection incarnated: handsome, gorgeous, almost entrancing. She was wearing a blue sheath that contrasted with her pale skin and highlighted her collarbone and eyes. He wore a dark grey three piece suit and that too matched his eyes. The sapphire pinning his tie was the same colour as her dress.
They walked up to the security and pulled no invite. Instead they spoke to the guards softly. The crowd strained their ears but couldn’t make out any word. Whatever was exchanged no one heard. The chief of security called someone on his walkie-talkie. In the end, the crowd gasped. For it was clear that the perfect couple had no invitation and yet they were allowed in. That was enough to spark rumours and feed numerous press releases for the next six months. Nobody knew who they were but they obviously belonged to a class of their own. Otherwise how would they have got in? Who did they know? Who were they? Why were they allowed in? They might be unknown but they’d got in. There was more to them than meets the eyes. But what was it? Would anyone ever know? Probably not for noone who had been inside ever commented about the two perfect strangers.