by M T Stone
I decided to Google “Bill Addison” as well, just to make sure he wasn’t a drug dealer or something. The only thing that came up was a chess champion who had died several years ago, and he wasn’t even from New York. Of course I’d used the name Mila, so why would my prospective sugar daddy reveal his true identity. Hopefully it’s someone rich and famous. The St. Regis hotel is well known for attracting celebrities. Wouldn’t that be cool, me dating a celebrity? Of course why would a celebrity need to go on a web site like that? I needed to stop thinking and get to bed.
As I shut down my computer for the night, I started thinking about what I would even wear to a restaurant that fancy. I’ll just have to wear my little black dress and hope it’s good enough. Crawling into bed, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, my head was just buzzing. It had been a wild day, and now I had a blind date with some rich, older dude. If I were taller, skinnier and prettier, modeling would’ve been my out. Instead I've had to resort to something much less glamorous. Could my life get any more fucked up?
~~~~~~
Chapter 2 – The Meet
Jack
When Saturday evening arrived, I pulled on one of my black custom suits, no tie, with an open light blue dress shirt just like the one Mila had worn in that sexy picture. I’d always been the type who would rather be over-dressed than under-dressed, and I wanted to see if she picked up on my sense of humor. I strapped on my latest splurge, a fancy Baguette watch, which supposedly contained over 450 diamonds. Honestly, I’d never counted them, but I could definitely tell I was wearing something substantial by the weight on my wrist. As I looked in the mirror, I sent out some positive vibes to Suzy. Thanks babe, you did one hell of a job! She convinced me to go clean shaven and cut off the long hair I’d worn out of habit for years. I couldn’t believe how much different I looked with just a few minor changes.
Arriving at the restaurant about 6:45, I wanted to be there when she walked in. The maître d’ had reserved a special “off to the side” table for us, where we would have at least a little privacy. I had often used it when having dinner with new clients in an attempt to escape prying ears. I took the chair facing the door so I could keep an eye out for her arrival. I pulled my glasses from my coat pocket and checked for any updates to the menu before she arrived. Those glasses were just one more reminder that I was 49, even though I didn’t feel that old. It seems like yesterday the kids were little, and my parents were this age. Where has the time gone?
The moment Mila approached the door, I knew it was her. She was petite with dark flowing hair, a sexy black sequin wrap-dress and a gray trench coat that she immediately shed upon entering. I could tell she was self-conscious about what she was wearing, but she definitely rocked that $150 dress. As she made her way to the table, I stood and pulled out the chair for her. I extended my hand as she arrived and greeted her saying, “Hello, Mila, I’m Bill. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“Hello, Bill. It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said, with a strange look on her face. The maître d’ gave me a knowing smile before quickly scurrying back to his podium. “You look so familiar. Have we met somewhere before?” she asked, as she adjusted her dress in an attempt to get comfortable.
“No, I’m pretty sure I would remember meeting you, Mila.”
“Hmmm, you look awfully familiar Bill.”
Her eyes were even more amazing in person. The outer part of her iris was dark blue changing to gold in the middle and then back to blue next to her pupils. In her pictures they looked turquoise, but they were far more complex than they had appeared. I could tell it was her natural eye color because they blended perfectly without any tell-tale lines around the iris. Her perfume slowly emanated my way as well. It was a fresh, captivating scent that seemed to reflect her personality. She was absolutely amazing.
Kate
Oh my god, I was so embarrassed. The way the maître d’ looked at me while I was checking that awful trench coat made me feel like dying. If it wasn’t January, I would’ve just gone without it. Who wears a trench coat to a five-star French restaurant? As if I wasn’t flustered enough, he didn’t even give me a chance to check my hair before leading me directly to our table. To top it all off, my date had been watching the whole scene unfold. What a classy first impression.
As we approached the table, this familiar man stood up. Not just any man, but perhaps the most famous New Yorker in my industry. He was a legendary alumnus of the same school that I was currently attending and one of only a handful of men who I absolutely idolized. When he stood up and introduced himself as Bill, I almost had to laugh. I guess he had no way of knowing I was in fashion merchandising, but, seriously, there was no way he could fly under the radar in this town. As I sat down, he looked into my eyes as if he were piercing into my soul, trying to read me like a book. I didn’t know exactly how to handle it, so I simply stared back into his cool, blue eyes.
Jack looked much younger in person than he did in those trade magazines. I had recently made a comment to my roommate that he was starting to show his age, but I had just eaten those words. His trademark long hair was replaced by a neatly trimmed haircut, and there were no longer signs of gray. His hair was impressively thick for a man in his late 40s. The grayish mustache and goatee that he always wore were gone as well, making him look years younger. I wondered what type of cologne he was wearing. My god, it smelled good. I knew it probably cost more per ounce than the entire outfit I was wearing.
“Do you like French cuisine?” he asked, handing me a menu.
“Yes. I’ve only had it once as a young girl, but I absolutely loved it.”
“Do you recall what you had?”
“No, I remember my parents ordering all kinds of things while my sister and I tried a little of everything. The only things I won’t eat are foie gras and veal, as I’m morally opposed to both.”
“Well, I have to agree with you on both counts. I have never understood how someone could enjoy either one unless they had no idea how they were raised,” he replied, giving me a warm smile.
What an incredible guy! I couldn’t believe I was about to have dinner with Jack Ryker! Having met him once as a young girl, I had applied for a summer internship at his company the previous two years but never got so much as a rejection letter in return. Of course, I knew they received dozens of applications for each position, so it’s not like I was expecting a job. Now, however, I had the full attention of the founder and CEO himself, an amazing turn of events. I was glad I had deleted my profile page; after this, almost anyone else would’ve been a major let down.
“I’m glad you invited me to this restaurant,” I told him, “That’s what made you stand out from the rest. I’m so sorry about your wife by the way. I remember hearing about that on the news.”
His head froze, and only his eyes turned towards me. Shit! What have I done?
“I’m sorry, my name is Kate Westby, and I know we are supposed to be incognito, but the minute I approached the table I knew who you were. I’m a senior at Fashion U in their Fashion Merchandising program, so it would be pretty difficult for me to not know who you are. In fact, I think you are the most incredible entrepreneur in the fashion world today. I applied for your summer internship program the past two summers. So yes, Jack, I’m sorry, but I know who you are.”
He smiled and shook his head, obviously impressed with my ability to talk incredibly quickly without even pausing to take a breath.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Kate,” he said extending his hand again. “The name Mila never clicked for me anyway. Kate is much more fitting of an all-American beauty like you. I worked with a model named Mila a few years ago, and she was a tall, stick-skinny blonde, nothing like you.”
“Okay, I’m going to try to take that as a compliment,” I replied with a smile. “I was about six inches too short for modeling.”
“After seeing the pictures you posted, I think you could easily model, Kate. Of course, you’re the type who looks best
without a bunch of designer clothes standing in the way.”
I could instantly feel my cheeks getting warm. I hated the fact that I always blushed whenever someone embarrassed me. It was just a little unnerving that he had already seen me nearly naked.
“That was a one-time thing, Jack. A photographer friend of mine caught Jackie and me in a wild mood that day. He was trying to convince us that we had potential as models. Jackie could be a model, but in my case, I think he just wanted to see me naked.”
“I have to admit that would’ve been my motivation as well, Kate.”
He’s so cute when he smirks like that.
“The other day, after you told me that web site was on the news, I panicked and deleted my profile,” I told him. “That completely freaked me out.”
“Yes, I noticed you were gone. I was hoping you hadn’t changed your mind about meeting me here. It made my day to see you walk through the door,” he said, placing his hand on mine.
“You’re cold,” he added taking both of my hands in his, immediately warming them. He simply radiated some type of energy, unlike anything I had witnessed before. I had felt it the moment I sat down at the table. It was more than mere charisma or physical attraction. It was something almost magical that made me drawn to him. I finally understood what a magnetic personality was all about.
“Pick out something you want to try from the Tasting Menu and another from the Truffle Menu,” he said as he released my hands. I was certainly glad the tab wasn’t going to be mine as just these two items totaled $300! As I struggled to figure out what to eat, he perused the wine list, asking if I preferred Bordeaux or something lighter.
“I like Bordeaux as long as it’s not overly dry or oaky.”
“We agree again.”
He winked at me and signaled the waiter. My God, he’s charming. Every time he smiles at me, I get the warm fuzzies, and I haven’t even had a glass of wine yet. A couple of those and I’ll be putty in his hands. The most amazing thing was that he actually focused on me, instead of texting or checking his Facebook. In fact, I never saw his phone that entire evening. That was the first advantage I noticed of dating someone more mature.
“Have you decided what you would like to try?” he asked, drawing my focus back to the menu.
“Honestly, I could just as well be reading Chinese. Please just order what you like, and I’ll share it with you,” I replied, passing the task back to him.
In hindsight, that turned out to be a wise choice because what came next was the most incredible culinary experience of my young life. He was ordering all these crazy expensive items like they were part of the McDonald’s value menu. I had a feeling my taste buds were going to be sorely disappointed when they went back to their normal fare. Every luscious bite must’ve been at least 100 calories worth of butter or sugar; it was absolutely sinful!
Jack
Watching Kate’s expressions as she sampled each of the items gave me insight into her transparency. Her eyes would light up each time something tasty hit her tongue, and she was just as expressive when something didn’t agree with her. Her expressiveness, combined with a level of naivety, was incredibly attractive to me. My kids had grown up with regular culinary experiences like this, so it was hard to impress them anymore.
“If you don’t like something just push it aside,” I told her. “I’m ordering way more food than we can eat, so don’t waste space on anything marginal.”
As our pace of eating and drinking began to slow, I had to find out what possessed an adorable young woman like Kate to post her profile on a web site like that. She was relaxed and having a good time, so I wanted to ease my way into the discussion.
“Tell me more about your background, Kate. What made you interested in fashion merchandising?”
“I’m actually more drawn to design, but I wanted to know how to sell as well. My mother is a buyer for Nordstrom. She has always complained about how hard it is to source clothes for the average working woman, which is her area of expertise. She always thought there should be more attention paid to the middle market.”
“I’ve said the same thing for years, Kate. I hear women complain about a lack of options all the time. They also complain about how women’s clothes are twice the price of men’s and often are made from lower quality materials.”
“Exactly! So I decided it was my mission to create a line of high quality, nice fitting and reasonably priced clothing designed for working women,” she explained with a fiery glow in her eyes.
“Wow that’s a tall order for someone your age, Kate. You haven’t even finished school yet. You do realize that a dozen people control about ninety percent of the market, right?”
“I know. My mother has always told me I’m a dreamer. My father was a perpetual dreamer as well, so apparently that’s something I inherited.”
“Was? Did something happen to him?” I asked curiously.
“Well, he might as well be dead. I haven’t seen or heard from him in over three years.”
She then proceeded to explain how he lost everything by being over-leveraged going into the credit crisis. He was talking about early retirement and bought a multi-million dollar condo just months before everything started to collapse.
“Of all the places he could’ve worked, he chose the bank that was the deepest into the subprime mortgage market,” she explained. "One of his buddies had been there for years and had cashed a $5 million bonus check at the end of 2006. Seeing that check was all he needed to leave his old firm and chase the pot of gold.”
My heart felt heavy as she recanted how her whole world fell apart between her 17th and 18th birthdays. After they lost their three-bedroom condo on the Upper East Side, her father bailed on them completely, only saying he needed to escape the city. The family moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, where she had shared a room with her sister the past few years. A few months ago, she moved in with Jackie who was a classmate at Fashion U. Jackie’s apartment was much closer to school so it made perfect sense, except for the monthly rent payment.
“Which is why I saw your profile,” I said, in the most understanding tone I could muster.
“Yeah, Jackie talked me into doing it. She made it look so easy, finding a hot, rich lawyer in a matter of days.”
“A hot, rich, single lawyer?”
“No, he’s married with kids. He just wanted an arrangement on the side apparently. I told her that I could never be part of destroying someone’s marriage, especially when kids are involved. That’s the other reason you went to the top of my list,” she said with a smile.
“I appreciate that, Kate. People around me have often asked how I managed to remain faithful to Eva for all those years while being surrounded by gorgeous models. The moral obligation of always putting your family first was pounded into me by my parents. People don’t believe it, but I never even considered doing anything that would hurt my wife or children.”
I could feel a tear welling up in my eye and apparently Kate noticed as well. She reached over and placed her hand on top of mine in sympathy.
“Thank you, Kate. We’ve both had a rough road the past few years, but I have a feeling our luck is about to change. Now what would you like for desert?” I asked her, regaining control of my emotions.
“Dessert? Really? I don’t care, but it has to be something light and worth the calories,” she replied. As if she had to worry about counting calories.
A light fruit tart and some chocolate mousse later, it was time to get out of the restaurant. If I ate anything else it would lead to a long night of heartburn. Besides, I was growing tired of all the looks we were getting from other patrons. They appeared to be passing judgment based on the chemistry they were witnessing between the two of us.
As we left the table, I put my arm around her and smiled at a particularly snide couple who had been dining at an adjacent table. I thought back to a phrase from an old Mel Brooks movie where his character in a similar situation says, “It’s g
ood to be the king!”
There I go, showing my age again.
~~~~~~
Chapter 3 – Kate And The Diamond Suite
Jack
As we exited the restaurant, Kate reluctantly retrieved her trench coat.
“You’re not going to need that just yet,” I said with a smile, redirecting her toward the lobby of the St. Regis. “I wanted to make sure we got a chance to talk in private, so I reserved a room.”
“Oh, great!” was all she said in response. Her eyes were as wide as deer-in-the-headlights as we made our way through the lobby. I took her hand and told her to just relax and enjoy.
“I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,” she said, as she straightened her dress. “I’m so embarrassed to be carrying this coat around.”
“Let me carry it,” I replied, taking it from her.
The bellhop shot me a smirk, as he punched in our floor and we headed for the top.
Kate was definitely a fish out of water, but she had no reason to feel that way. We attracted more than our share of stares from other guests, but they were judging me, not her. I could imagine what they were thinking: He’s old enough to be her father. She’s only with him because he’s rich. The look the bellhop gave me though, was clearly: You lucky bastard!
Approaching 50 years of age, I guess I shouldn’t have cared what anyone else thought (except for my kids). I knew we would be more comfortable once we were in the room. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the Diamond Suite; I had a feeling she would instantly fall in love with it.
~~~
Kate
My introduction to the St. Regis was so embarrassing. As if being the most underdressed woman in the restaurant wasn’t enough, I stuck out like a sore thumb in the hotel lobby as well. I would’ve just frozen to death had I known I was going to have to drag that stupid coat around all night…. Wow, this hotel is amazing.
