by Suzanne Hart
With that done, I pulled out of the parking garage and thrust myself into LA traffic, cursing myself for not being better at basic things like being able to tell time. I practically honked my horn from the moment that I got on the open road all the way until I was pulling into the office park that housed the corporate building for JP Morgan Chase. I had been waiting three weeks to get this loan interview and now I was rushing into the building five minutes late. God, my life was a mess. I ran across the lobby and slammed on the button in the elevator, sucking in several deep breaths, hoping my heart rate would fall back down. Soon enough, I had made it to Sherry’s desk and was mumbling hasty apologies.
Sherry, a woman with curly, brown hair and severe features, stood up to shake my hand and close her office door. I had first spoken on the phone with her several months ago. “Hello Ms. Abrams. Don’t worry, you just gave me a few extra minutes to check my email.”
I nodded with a tight, nervous smile on my face.
“So, I have read through your file. But can you tell me in your own words what this loan is for and why you feel like this would be a good investment?”
I nodded, sucking in a deep breath and readying myself. It was an answer I had been rehearsing with Neil and my other dance friends for the last couple of days. “So, I am a classically trained dancer. I grew up in a small town. I love my parents, but they were never really there for my brother and I-- my, my mom was a nurse and my dad was a paramedic. So yeah, they were never around. I got into dancing as a kid, and it became my home away from home. I saw a community in that studio that I didn’t see anywhere else. It got me a scholarship to UCLA. It got me out of that town. So, I guess, I’ve been inspired by my own experience and by my training to make this happen for young girls all over The Valley.”
The banker nodded. “I’ve heard they have a pretty great fine arts program at UCLA.”
I laughed, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, they do.”
She cleared her throat, turning her gaze back on my file. “So, you have an apartment rented in your name, yes?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“A car?”
“Leased.”
“Both parents are still alive and you have a brother; Neil Abrams, right?”
I nodded.
She sucked in a deep breath and closed my file. I knew that something was wrong because of the way that she took off her glasses and cast her gaze down. I didn’t know what I had done or said wrong, but something told me she was about to turn me down. My heart had already sunk, my eyes glazing over. This was the closest I had gotten to my dream in years and, just like that…
“So…” she said, but then closed her mouth again.
I shifted my weight in my chair, waiting to hear what the next thing would be. Then she said, “I think that your idea is amazing. We’re just a little concerned with your finances.”
My chest rose and fell with a breath.
Then she said, “But let’s do this, how about you just give us some time to review your case over again and we’ll give you a decision over the phone? I’m rooting for you and your studio idea though, I want you to know that.”
My eyes widened.
Damn.
I thanked her and got up. I practically dragged myself out of that office, down the hall, back in the elevator and down to my car. My mind was swimming with worry as I made my way across town. I headed to the abandoned building where a couple of my old dance friends and I had agreed to meet. We were working on a dance for my audition video to the New York Dance Company, one of the most elite groups in the world. By the time I was parking my car in the nearly empty parking lot and hurrying inside, I had fully realized that the studio might not work out.
I shook my head, almost trying to physically shake the worries away as I entered the old abandoned building, and shut the door behind me. The sound of the heavy door closing echoed off the walls. I walked down what used to be the lobby, but was now covered in graffiti. The artists had sprayed bright colors all over every flat surface they could reach. I walked through another doorway into a bigger room. There was one wall made entirely of dusty windows that overlooked a dead garden. Seeing as I was late in getting there, my friends had already gotten themselves ready for the video. They were wearing the black leggings and leotards that we had discussed, eyes covered in black makeup, lips bare. A smile played on my face as I realized they looked exactly how I felt. But I put that thought behind me. I couldn’t let what had just happened affect me. I had to get this done.
“Jennifer, you got the camera?”
Jennifer, my tall ex-roommate, walked across to hand me the Nikon and tripod. “Thanks,” I said as I set it up. Ten minutes later, everyone was in place. I double and triple checked the positions, the facial expression, the eyes, everything down to the pinky finger placement. We ran it four times all the way through before I was convinced that it was ready to be filmed and documented forever.
“Okay,” I said, huffing out a breath. I started the music and stood back to watch the people work. They moved beautifully to my music, their bodies the embodiment of my vision. I loved this; having my ideas, my vision, my love materialize right in front of me. I was bobbing my head to the music with a smile on my face by the time it was over. My chest felt tight, my heart thudding with excitement. Dance always did that to me, whether I was watching or doing; it was impossible to frown. “All right guys,” I said breathlessly, clapping my hand. “That was gorgeous.”
Jennifer smiled. “We’re working with what we have, love.” She winked at me.
“Okay, so as promised, you are all invited to my club for free drinks.” There were collective cheers as everyone gathered their things.
Later that night, I had just about shaken off that terrible meeting at the bank and replaced it with the vision of my dancers bringing my vision to life. Since I wasn’t performing, I could actually enjoy myself. I rushed home, changed into a black cocktail dress, let my hair down and made it to the club just in time for the end of reverse happy hour. I scurried down the steps and down the hallway that led to the little basement lounge. I could already hear the thumping of the base, the excited chatter of everyone in the club and the clinking and sloshing of drinks being made and mixed.
I emerged into the little lounge, taking in the smell of the liqueur and the drink machine. I felt free, my body humming with the sound of music ringing through my bones. I waved at a couple of my dancer friends before I went straight to the bar. “A Jack and coke,” I called at Alice, the bartender.
Her thin lips stretched into a smile and she went to work, filling a glass with ice, Jack, and a tiny bit of coke. I took a sip, turning and leaning with my back against the bar so that I could get a good look at everyone. I caught a glimpse of Jennifer with a couple of my other friends a little far off, her lean frame hanging over the side of the bar.
I waved as I pressed my way through the crowd to get to her. “Hey! Thanks for coming!”
Jennifer smiled. “Thanks for having me,” she said before she surveyed the room. “This place is amazing.”
I stood there with her for a little while longer, the two of us taking in the atmosphere. I had only gotten to the second sip of my drink when I saw James walking through the entrance. My heart stopped at the sight of his tall figure and broad shoulders. His low cut hair and stubble framed the perfect, sharp features of his face. Our private conversation the night before came flooding back to me. My toes curled at the thought of getting another moment alone with him.
He pressed through the crowd, his gorgeous green eyes on me the entire time. “Hey!” I said when he finally got to me.
“Hey you,” he said, a smile on his face and his eyes making my heart race.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He turned after he had ordered himself a drink, and stood next to me, leaning against the bar. I tried not to get distracted by the fact that our arms were touching. He shrugged. “Yo
u see, I left something here last night… and I was hoping I could come pick it up.”
I smiled. “What did you leave?”
He stared right at me. “You.”
I blinked, but took a sip of my drink to try and keep my cool. “Oh really? How do you know I didn’t want to be left?”
He shrugged. “I can see it in your eyes,” he said, smiling at his own joke.
I laughed at him, hoping that I wasn’t blushing. “What’s gotten into you, James Paris?” I asked. I had known him at least for the last three years since he met Neil at business school, and this was only the first time we were both really looking at each other.
He rested his arm on the bar top, making sure there were mere inches between us. I caught a whiff of his cologne; something woodsy with a hint of pine. God it smelled so good. I could feel my palms getting hot and sweaty under his impossible gaze.
“I dunno.” He took another sip of his drink as the song changed.
Our eyes met again as he put his drink down. He shifted his gaze from me out to the crowd of people dancing on the chairs, by the bar, around the coffee tables, in the booths. “Do you wanna dance?” He asked.
I smiled at him. “You realize who you’re talking to?” I asked as he leaned into me. “What are you trying to get into?”
He nodded. “I know exactly who and what I’m getting into, and I can’t wait.”
I wasn’t expecting this from him, to just turn up at my club out of the blue and ask me to dance. But if there was one thing I’d figured out about him—was that he wasn’t a predictable guy.
My smile grew wider as I put my drink down on the table and let him lead me to a spot on the floor far away from the bar. It was in a little space in between the booth and the stage. It was darker there, more private. I gazed up at him as I let my hips sway to the music, feeling a little liberated in the fact that we didn’t actually have to talk to each other in that moment. The next thing I knew, we were touching. He rested his hand on my hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. I pressed my chest up against his, feeling his hips grind against me. His body swayed with me and the music. I gazed up at his face, taking in every perfect chisel, the way that his strong jaw set, the way he stared down the line of his wide nose at me. I caught the lines of his arms; strong, hard, sturdy. I couldn’t stop the way my heart pounded in my chest, the way that my skin was covered in goosebumps, the way that I could go completely off the grid with him.
I was lost in his scent and his body. I couldn’t stop the way that my knees went weak when he pressed me against that wall, the way that I gasped for breath when his hands explored my body, his fingers clutching at my dress, my skin. He bent my knee, hitching it on his hip as we continued to sway to the music. I clutched onto his long-sleeve t-shirt, my hands exploring his body as we kept moving. Our lips were so close, all I had to do was reach a little more and he’d be kissing me. As the song ended and another one started, I kept my eyes locked in his. I could tell by the shadow in his green gaze that he was into me too. His lips were parted, ever so slightly, as he stared down at me. His grip was tight and unwavering.
Then, just when I thought I was going to die of anticipation, he reached down and took my face in both of his hands. He pressed his lips against mine. My body whimpered at his touch, my heart fluttering in my chest. We were grinding against each other, our hips moving as one as he slipped his tongue just inside my mouth. I sucked on his tongue, his lips. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands found their way to the back of my head, my hair entangled in his grip as he massaged my scalp. He slammed me against the wall, his hand slipping under my skirt. I rubbed his crotch, feeling him harden in my grip. I could barely breathe, or hear, or think. He was the only thing that existed in that room, on the planet, and I didn’t know what was happening to me.
My head leaned back. My neck stretched as I felt his fingers rubbing me on the outside of my panties. I pressed him a little harder, getting the outline of his cock. My mouth watered because I could feel how big it was through his pants. I sucked in a breath as he sucked on the skin of my neck, practically massaging me with his mouth.
Just when I thought I might climax just from the sensation of that tongue on my neck, the lights dipped. There was no question what that meant.
“I think the show is about to start.” I groaned. We couldn’t keep doing this, I was still reeling from the shock of what nearly happened.
He let out a dark chuckle, planting another kiss on my lips. “Let’s give them a show.”
I laughed. God he was so sexy. “No no. Come on, I wanna see this one.”
“You know it like the back of your hand. Let’s get out of here.” He said, kissing my hand.
My eyes rolled back in my head as I wondered how it was possible that a human could be so irresistible. But then a thought came crashing down on me, almost like a memory I had buried deep. I had to stop this. I wanted him. Holy crap I did. But not now and not like this. “Come on.” I said. “Buy me a drink.”
He smiled at me, and then nodded. “Let’s go to the bar.” He said, clearing his throat.
As soon as I had another Jack and coke in my hand, I wrote my number on a napkin for him.
3
James
My eyes flickered open the next morning. The sun was streaming through my bay windows. It bathed my room in light. I felt rested, ready for what the day would throw at me. But the first thing that came to mind was the sound of Nancy’s voice. It was cool, sultry, sweet. It filled my ears and drenched my mind. I bit my lip, thinking back to the night before. All I wanted was another moment with her. It didn’t matter how short. Lord knew I was starving, starving like hell for her. I didn’t know where any of this came from after all this time, but I was in deep, and gasping for air.
I could hear her breathe, feel her hands on my chest, feel her soft, long hair, like as if she was there with me. My cock hardened under my duvet as I remembered what those hands felt like, exploring my body, rubbing my crotch. I set my jaw as I remembered her tongue in my mouth, her lips sucking on mine. I reached under the covers and stroked myself as I thought about her soft skin. The way her eyes bore into mine. The way her hips swayed with mine. The way her leg was hitched against my hip. I remembered rubbing her, and the feeling of her smooth panties under my fingertips, in between her legs, under the hem of that sexy ass dress. I kept going, imagining what she felt like under those panties.
My lips parted as I kept stroking and thinking, imagining my hands inside the neck of that dress, her breasts hanging out in front of me, that milky skin glowing in the dim light. Those nipples, pink and round. I imagined her arms wrapped around my neck as I pressed myself inside her. My eyes squeezed shut as I kept going and going and going.
With a grunt, I finished. The image of her was fading, but it remained in the back of my mind as I got out of bed. I stood up and stretched, feeling refreshed after my trip down memory lane. I took a deep breath as I crossed my bedroom, the hardwood floor warm under my feet. I gazed out of the large windows. I was on the fifth floor of a new development that had been built in the hills overlooking the water. I could see the gorgeous mountains off in the distance and the unmistakable white blue of the ocean. The water slammed across the rocks and beaches of the coastline.
With a sigh, I left my view behind and walked around my four-post bed towards the French doors to the bathroom. Once inside, I stopped to set the thermostat for the tile floors. I waited the necessary ten seconds before stepping down onto the tile of my bathroom floor. I walked past the expansive jacuzzi to my white, marble sink. I opened the cabinet door and pulled out the Sonicare toothbrush, racking the small machine through my teeth before taking a quick rain-water shower. With that done, I grabbed my towel, dried myself off, stepped out of my bathroom and kept walking to the closet. I shut the door and turned on the light. I pressed one of the buttons on the touchpad by the door and watched as the suits on the center rack began to rotate around. I started,
stopping at a black Armani, complete with a white button-down, and a dark blue, razor-thin tie. Simple. Elegant. This would work.
Ten minutes later, I had dressed myself in the layers of clothes, combed my hair back, and got a quick cup of coffee. I stood in my lobby, waiting for my car to come around. I smiled at the doorman as I watched my black Mercedes S550 saunter up the driveway. I nodded at the valet and sat inside, blasting the AC all the way through the traffic to Paris Inc, an office park in downtown LA. The nerves didn’t hit me on the way there, in the car garage, or even when I was in the elevator. No. It wasn’t until the doors had opened to the 39th floor, revealing a quiet, vast hallway, marbled floors, and nothing but a big, wooden door at the end of it. I crossed the hallway and went through the doorway. I found myself in a large waiting room, complete with a couple of brown leather couches and a coffee table with magazines, mostly Forbes, the Economist, Business Insider, and Times which were strewn across the top of it. At the far wall was a desk and a young woman sitting behind it. There was a smile permanently frozen on her petite face that widened when she saw me. “Good morning, Mr. Paris. You can go on in. The board is waiting for you.”
I nodded and made my way to the double doors next to her desk. An usher was standing there, who opened one of the doors as I approached. I nodded at him as I walked into the large conference room where my uncle, his closest advisors, the board of Directors and the major stockholders of Paris Inc were gathered. I was staring right at a huge window that overlooked the whole of downtown LA as well as the ocean beyond. To my left was a small bar, replete with supplies to make every sort of drink one could think of having. To my right was the conference table; a long, austere piece of chunky, expensive-looking furniture surrounded by men in their forties and fifties. They stared at me with that same, expectant look. At the end of the table was my uncle. He stood at an ever-intimidating six foot seven, his body, though fit, thinning with age. His sharp features were draped in wrinkled skin, his gray eyes deep set and severe. “Good morning, James.” He said, gesturing at the only free seat at the table. It was directly across from him and featured a plate of fruits and an offering of Single Malt Scotch.
