The Beginning (10 page)

Adult Contemporary Romance Serial

Originally Published July 8, 2015

Friday…2 minutes later

I feel as if I might be sick, or burst out crying. Jonathan has just told me that he lives in

California, not here in Manhattan. I guess I just assumed he did, never lied to me about it, but if he was feeling what I am why didn’t he let me know sooner. I feel betrayed in a

small way. I need a drink. I wiggle my fingers to let him know that I want out of our hand holding embrace. He drops my hands and I step away from him. Reaching for my drink, I guzzle it all down quickly; Jonathan has not said another word. His revelation has left me feeling very exposed, figuratively, and when I remember that, I am naked, literally, I feel even more vulnerable. I am unclear on what to do now, I want to get dressed, but he has my underwear in his pocket. He also told me that he I am never to wear that red dress again that is sitting in a ball on the floor. I want to join my dress, curl up on the floor and weep.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and walks out of the curtain. Refilling my glass, I just stand there thinking about what I just heard. I go over it, repeatedly in my head
I live in California.
In a moment, he is back and he has my workbag. Jonathan must have read my discomfort. “Here,” and he hands it to me, “Would you like me to step out?” It is kind.

“Well,” I tell him, “considering I am standing here stark stark-naked I really don’t see the point.”

“I thought you would like a minute to yourself is all.” I can see he is trying to be nice.

“Thank you, you are very gallant.” I manage a small smile. Grabbing his flute of Prosecco he sits back down on the loveseat. His head hangs down, with his elbows resting on his knees and the glass dangling from those fingers I love on my frame.

“Did I ruin the night for you?” He is being inquisitive and I can tell he genuinely does not know what I will say. I rummage in my bag to find what I wore to work. Grabbing my jeans, I put them on, throw on my GAP sweatshirt, slip into my topsiders, and put my hair up in a topknot on my head. Being covered makes me feel better; the clothes are a barrier for me. I sink to the floor and sit indian style in front of him. I need some answers, and decide to go for it since I might never see him again.

“Can I ask you something?” I start.

“Open book,” and he raises his flute in the air.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two weeks this trip.”

Great, I met him at the end.

“Do you have an office here in New York?”

“No, I work out of the hotel I stay at, it’s my office. But people that work for me do have an office here, three block away as a matter of fact.”

“Why don’t you work there?”

“It’s too chaotic, I like to work in peace and quiet.”

“How often do you come to New York?”

“A few times a year, more often if there is a problem as we had this time.”

A few times a year? Shit, that is never. I will never see him; we can’t have a relationship like that. It is just not possible. This upsets me more as it sinks in. I am quite for a few minutes; I guess there is nothing else to know. I look down at the floor and feel a sadness wash over me.

“Lenox, I am really very sorry that I told you this now. I was going to tell you later, however it slipped out, and I know it was very bad timing. I feel like I have hurt you and I never wanted to do that.”

“S’ok.” I squeak out.

“But listen to me, and I mean this, I do want to see you again. Very much.” I look up at him and he is smiling a tentative, but crooked grin.

Returning the look I ask, “Well, I’d like that too, but when? Do you mean when you come to town three or four times a year?” I sharply inhale hoping for an answer I’ll like.

“No, I think I’d like to come more often, to see you.” I see his eyes are searching mine for a connection. I can tell he wants me to understand what he is saying without having to say it. It makes me feel better, but then I wonder.

“Would you see me here?” I need to know where he wants me, and how.

“I like seeing you here, but I would also like to see you outside of the club.”

My heart and lungs swell with instant elation. He does like me. He wants to see me and it sounds like date me. I am happy again.

“Ok” and I smile up at him. I get a relieved one back.

“Here,” he says and points to the place next to him on the loveseat. I rise and do as he says. After I sit, he picks up both of my legs and swings them over so they rest across his lap. Jonathan picks up my left hand, turns up my palm, and gives me three soft quick kisses. I still have questions about us, what we will do, when he will come, but I decide to let it go for now and just enjoy these last minutes together. I rest my head on his shoulder and finally, breathe.

Saturday

When I wake up, I remember that Jonathan is leaving today; I also remember that I have the night off. I am grateful since I plan to sulk all day in bed, and watch old movies on TV. However, I have no food in the house. Ugh, I have to go out. I put on my clothes from last night; they are lying on the floor next to the bed. I was so despondent last night that I just came in, stripped them off, and dove under my covers. I leave in search of comfort foods. Opening the front door, I hope to see an SUV but do not. With Jonathan gone I guess I can forget about that for while.

Double Latte, Bagel, and junk food for the day, all paid for with a fresh hundred-dollar bill, courtesy of Jonathan from last night. When we left the club together, the manager handed me an envelope, which I failed to count until I got home, another thousand for me. Jonathan is so generous. I am grateful, and I already have the first three months payments on my student loans.

Saturday Delta First Class

I never thought I would feel like this about someone again. I am not sure how to handle it, business is easy, but women are hard. How little can I give that is enough for her to still want to see me? Can I buy her company? Can material things make her happy enough that she will not ask for more than I can give? I put my hand into my right jacket pocket and feel the soft silk of her white panties from last night; I rub the material between my fingers and remember how hurt she was last night. Maybe my goodbye present today will soften the blow a bit.

“Mr. Ellis, can I get you another drink?” The first class stewardess is talking to me. She is the regular on this route; I think she would meet me in a hotel if I asked her. I think she would do anything if I asked her; she has that look in her eyes. I hate women like that.

Nothing is genuine with them.

“Yes, please, can I have a coffee.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you Renee.”

The whole time that Renee is taking my order I am rubbing the material between my index and middle finger.

Saturday New York City

As I come around the corner with my grocery bags, I see his black SUV. At least I hope it is, however I find that I crane my head at every large four door black car I see nowadays. I quicken my step to see Marcus and smile.

“Good morning Marcus. No coffee?” I ask trying to keep it light.

“In the car Miss, I have something for you,” and he pulls another envelope out of his jacket. I walk over to grab it from him and ask, “Why aren’t you in California?” I am trying not to sound like I am prying, but I thought Marcus would also have gone with him.

“I live and work here for an executive service. I only drive Mr. Ellis when he is in town.”

“I see, well, thanks for this,” and I hold up the envelope. I cannot wait to go inside and tear it open.

I run up the stairs two at a time, open the door and fling my groceries on the counter. I flop on the couch, out of breath, I carefully open the beautiful stationary. No money falls out this time, however I am not disappointed.

Lenox,

A little pampering for that hard working body.

Call the Red Door Salon & Spa and ask to speak to Kristin.

Enjoy.

J

Well, not very personal, but attentive and sweet. I call Kristin and find I am already booked for tomorrow.

Sunday

The Red Door is actually a large red door on Fifth Avenue. Kristin told me I had to arrive at nine a.m. to accomplish all the treatments booked for me. Apparently, Jonathan and Kristin had already planned my day for me. The moment I arrive to change into a plush robe and slippers for the day, I am taken care of. Among the services are milk and honey sugar body glow, facial, manicure, pedicure, and nourishment body treatments. My eyebrows are waxed and perfectly arched, my scalp massaged, my hair trimmed and deep conditioned, my bikini area fully waxed and removed. At the end of the day, my last treatment is a two-hour full body massage that offers me one hundred and twenty minutes to think about Jonathan uninterrupted.

Last night, at then end was sullen and quiet. The fervor we had going on was ruined. I sat next to him and we finished our bottle of Prosecco, and then he had to leave. It was very awkward and unfinished. I was careful to not make him feel to badly, and I yearned to tell him of my feelings and how much I liked him, however it was inappropriate and I knew it. Besides how can you tell someone you just met three days prior that you are falling for him? Add to the fact that you met in a strip club and he pays you. I don’t want to scare him away. In the end, I really have to just wait and see what he does, let him make the first relationship move. I push it all out of my mind and enjoy the rest of my massage, grateful for the spa day.

Monday

Lazy…I laid on the couch with the cat all day watching TV, trying to avoid any love stories or anyone that looked like Jonathan.

Tuesday

Back to work today. It is not as exciting as my first week, since I know that Jonathan is on the west coast and will not pop in. Yesterday I came up with a plan to keep my mind off everything. I have set a personal goal to pay off my student loans and save for a place of my own when my landlord comes back in a year. I did the math and if I work hard and spend very little, I can save enough to accomplish my goals. This is enough to keep my distracted. Focused on this plan can keep my thoughts off him.

Wednesday

I made a deal with the champagne manager last night. I let him know that I am interested in going in, but only with guys that want to dance or talk. I told him I have a new money plan and I want all I can get, but no dirty nasty business. He promised to set me up with the newbies and the virgins. I also let the manager know that I am interested in private parties, but only the ones that pay well. He set me up with one for tomorrow night.

Thursday

We have the back room booked for a frat party blowup. My manager offered it to me at work last night, and I greedily accepted. From what I have heard some of the girls hate them, and some of the girls not so much. I will find out why for myself tonight. I have no idea if I should wear anything different than I would on stage; Samson said to wear something I don’t mind getting spilled on. I was worried at first about what meant by spilled on but he assured me he meant drinks.

It is my turn to go into the party so I walk through the curtains and I see about twenty five insanely drunken guys acting like complete assholes. They have trashed the room, already finished and turned upside down two kegs, and littered the tables with shot glasses. They had brought confetti, streamers, silly string and balloons all of which have be strewn around the room like a five year olds birthday party. Overturn chairs are on the floor and they are standing around crowding the small stage like rabid dogs. I now dread this decision. Where is security? The manager told me that we had two guys in here. Shit.

The stage is much smaller than I expected. It is more like a small box with a pole in the middle to hold on to, it is only about two feet off the ground, and there is nowhere to go since it is in a corner. The music from the main room is piped in, and can barely be heard over the screaming and talking these guys are doing. It takes a minute for me to be noticed.

“Well well gentleman look what we have here….our next victim!!” One of them in a blue polo shirt says. They applaud and make a path towards the box. I must have looked scared because, another one in a pink polo shirt comes over to me and says, “Jim look what you did? Be nice,” and he turns to me, “We are harmless, just drunk and loud.” Oddly, I still feel like a lamb to the slaughter, as I sense instantly pink polo shirt is a liar. I walk towards the box and as I pass, they all reach out to grab me, push me, or slap my ass. I have a bad feeling about this, but as I move, they follow in behind me to the stage. Once I get to the box, step up and turn around I see that I am cornered…trapped.

Quickly, I try to make an exit plan, as well as a plan to quell them a bit. I search  out above their heads and still there is no bouncer to be found. The guys are waving dollar bills and yelling to see my tits already. I have to dance, I have to distract them and wait for help. I start to move, and I decide to really go all out with steps as if I am putting on a show, hoping they will enjoy it and be kind to me. I kick out and spin, but never turn my back on them and it helps to clear them from right in front of the box. They are all fanning out and showing a lot of singles but not tipping me at all. Assholes. These guys want it all for free. I am trying to put off taking of my top for as long as possible and then things go south quickly.

“This is bullshit, take it off!” Yells one of them from the crowd.

“Fuck this shit bitch, do what you’re here for! Strip!” Another squawks out at me.

I am terrified, with nobody in here and this many guys they could do anything to me, and the look it their eyes tell me they might.

Suddenly there is hand that reaches out, snatches at my bra, and pulls on it. I reach out, grab the pole with my left hand, and hold on. The clasp in the back holds tight and he doesn’t let go. His grip pulls me forward to cheers from his frat brothers. I am unable hold on to the pole any longer and he tugs to release me from it. In a final yank on my bra, he wrenches me away from the pole and for a moment, I am standing there teetering on the edge of the box.

“Take her down like a running back” I hear from pink polo shirt who is standing right next to him. Somehow they high five each other and blue polo shirt pulls one more time and in my stilettos I wobble and fall off the box and onto the floor.

In my descent, my bra finally snaps and he is now holding it above his head to roars from the swarm. He is waving it around like a victory flag. I scamper backwards to the wall and pull my knees up to my chest, and put my head down. I hope they won’t try to pull anything else off me. I hope they forget about me, but they do not. After they enjoy the bra for a minute, I see their feet circle around me.

“Ok boys,” pink polo says, “what should we do to her next?”

“I’d love some panties to go with my bra,” blue polo says, “a matching set I think they call it?” as everyone in the room laughs. Oh no, please no, what am I going to do. I am so scared. I curl up tighter in a ball and hold strongly to my knees to keep them from getting to my panties. I feel them start to reach for me, and pull my arms off my knees, but I hold tightly interlacing my fingers. One of them starts to pry my fingers off my kneecap, I am so scared, I keep my head down get ready for the assault.

Abruptly I feel one of them reach around me and pick me up, I tighten in my ball. Where are they taking me? I am so petrified. I keep my head down not wanting to know where I am going. Then I hear a series of loud “boo’s.” The arms that hold me wrap around me tighter and as we move I hear in my ear, “Are you ok kitten?” What?

I lift up my head from my chest and see Jonathan, he is here, he is carrying me, and he saved me. Where did he come from? How is he here? I instantly relax and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into his hair. “I’m good now that you’re here.” I whisper and I feel him take me out of the club and into the cold of the outside, he then sweeps me into the SUV and Marcus closes the door for us.

Once inside Jonathan takes off his coat and puts me in it. Grabbing a blanket from the passenger seat and tucks it over and around my legs. He leans forward to the console and turns up the heat inside. The whole time he tends to me, I keep my head down, and I am crying profusely. I cry in large heaping sobs that cause my make up and nose to run down my face and onto my lap. I must look a mess, and I am getting all this on his jacket.

With my head hanging down, I feel a handkerchief thrust into my hand. I am grateful and begin to wipe my face off, the white cloth is quickly brown and black and pink with my makeup and tears. Then a crystal cut glass is put into my view, “Here, drink this.” Jonathan says very softly.

“Wwwhhatt is it,” I stutter.

“Brandy, it will warm you up and calm you down.” He tells me.

“Ok,” and I drink. It goes down smooth and warm. After a few sips I sit back with my head still low, a glass of bandy in my right hand and a dirty handkerchief in my left. I am not sure how long we have been sitting in the car, but we have not moved. Jonathan has been still but I feel his presence next to me on my right.

Soon I feel his left arm around my shoulders and his right thumb reaches through my hair and onto my chin. He crooks it and brings up my face to look at him. “Hey, are you all right? How do you feel? Do you want to go to the hospital?” Jonathan’s face is grim with concern and worry. The way he is looking at me is calming even in my state.

“How did you, I mean why are you, I…”

“Later ok? Later. Just let me tend to you for a minute. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“So, hospital? Yes or no.”

“No, I am technically ok.”

“Good.” He sounds relieved.

I smile, and finish my brandy. Jonathan smiles back, refills mine, and picks up his. Marcus opens the passenger door, puts my workbag on the seat, and walks around to the driver’s side. “Let’s go.” Jonathan tells him, and we pull away from the club. I lean into his shoulder and close my eyes, wanting to forget the past hour of my life. I don’t even notice where we are going, but in a few minutes I can feel the SUV go down a small hill and we come to a stop. Our door is opened and I see a formally dressed valet with a long dark grey coat and gold
epaulettes on the shoulders. He is also wearing a dark grey cap and a gold whistle on a long chain around his neck.

“Good evening Mr. Ellis.” The valet greets us, and Jonathan steps out of the car. He turns around and grabs my hand, helping me out as well. After I get out I can see we are in an under ground parking garage. I pull Jonathan’s jacket around me to cover everything up. It is just long enough to skim past my butt. “Hello Miss, welcome to the Ritz Carlton.”