“Why are you here?” she complained. “I was enjoying the show! Get back and continue.”
“We’re leaving,” I told her. “To a private room. To talk and um…”
“…etcetera?” She asked with a huge grin.
I tightened my lips to hold back my laughter, glad that I had my back to him. “Should I go with him?”
“Do you want to?” She asked.
“I do,” I answered. “I really do.”
“Then have fun. You’re on vacation, but keep your phone on you, so you can call me if anything goes wrong.”
“What about you?” My tone turned apologetic.
“I’m going home. I’m tired of watching people fall on top of each other and I think those two in that corner over there have been fucking for the last ten minutes. Just don’t be that shameless. Do what you want to somewhere private, and come back to the room with a good story.”
I felt a bit surprised by her easy blessing. “You’re actually encouraging me to go through with this?”
“Leah,” she said. “Both Anne and I have had one night stands that we’re not proud of, but we’ve both had some that came close to blowing our minds. Remember neck tattoo guy?”
I giggled at the reminder of the restaurant bathroom rendezvous, that to this day, she swore was the best sex she’d ever had. I raised my brows at her.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “So go on and enjoy yourself, but please be safe.” She took a peek at him. “Plus, this guy looks like something that was dropped like manna from the sky. I’m not going to keep you from such a gift.”
I gave her a quick hug, turned around and was on my way.
The private room was on the second floor of the club. And just like the others in its row, the side that faced the dance floor was made of glass and through it the entire mayhem of the club was visible.
We however, felt secluded enough. It had a table, along with an accompanying circular sofa, and an ice bucket of champagne already waiting in the middle. I took my seat and watched as he worked on the bottle.
When the cork popped off, he filled my flute, and then leaned back to take a sip out of his as he watched me, a smile on his face. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “They have this Japanese shrimp tempura that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since last night.”
“I would,” I replied but his words made me wonder. He had been here the previous night too? With whom, and doing what? Was I just the next girl that made the list? I shook my head to drive away these useless thoughts. Tonight, I was not allowed to think about the past or the future. Only the present and for once, I would completely enjoy this gift.
After he placed the order, I moved a bit closer to him.
He put his arm around me, his gaze boring deeply into mine. “So do you like your job?”
“I do,” I replied and didn't know if I needed to bother mentioning more. My short responses seemed vague, but I had no clue about how much to divulge or not divulge in this situation.
“It never gets tough?" he asked. “Do you deal directly with clients?”
“Sometimes. Thankfully, I’m a Junior Copywriter.”
“Did you always want to work in marketing?”
“No,” I replied. “I wanted to be an accountant. My teenage logic was the banks were where the money was, so I wanted to be around it even if none of it was mine.”
He laughed.
The rhythm of his laugh was such a joy to listen to.
“So why did you change your mind?”
I saw genuine interest in his eyes, and decided to carry on, honestly, “I found out at the end of freshman year that I really didn’t care for numbers. I think it happened during the Algebra concepts course exam. I’d locked myself in the bathroom, balling my eyes out because I just knew I was going to fail. Nothing was sticking, and it wasn't because I hadn't been studying it all semester. Nothing would stick.”
“You sound like many of my clients.”
“I’ve encountered some of those myself. Anyway, my friend eventually pulled me out of the bathroom and explained what she could to me. I got a C and in my sophomore year, I jumped ship to marketing.”
He gave me another understanding smile as he moved his hand from my shoulder to wrap around my waist as he lifted his flute to his lips.
I welcomed the increased intimacy and reveled in the electric warmth of his touch.
Just then, a knock sounded on our door and it opened to allow the delivery of our tempura. The server placed our meal on the table, which indeed looked quite appetizing. Some roasted green peas, and shredded calamari were also included.
I picked up one of the fried shrimp for a taste, then moaned at the flavor.
“It’s good, right?” He asked.
“Delicious,” I replied and settled even further into him. I felt comfortable with him, it seemed like we were just an old couple, enjoying each other’s company on a couch. I chose to relish it. “What about you?” I asked. “Do you love your job?”
Pausing, he placed the flute down. “Love is a strong word,” he said. “I do enjoy it though because it challenges me. For instance, a few months ago we were tackling a campaign for a Dodge drag car at the New York Auto Show. In that project, everything that could go wrong went wrong. So we ended up having to do a load-in for the whole drag strip on the Hudson’s Pier 94, with lighting and pyrotechnics and hero cars all in thirteen hours.”
“Oh wow!” I turned to face him fully.
“I know,” he said. “Some higher ups on Dodge’s side caused the delays with bureaucracy and their ardent need to be dicks. When I got home after that, I didn’t move for two days.”
“Wow, I
