Chapter Thirteen: Single Career Girl In
This Town
No boyfriend, well, no Riley. No
room-mate. No more mid morning jokes and long in depth discussions in
the living room with Max. I still saw him, when I had clients at the
Marriott, but other than that we barely saw each other. Talking on
the phone was how we remained in touch, as his girlfriend preferred
that we had no connection. (Really, I heard her exclaim to Max, you
live with her?!?! ) I just wanted what was best for Max, whatever that
was, although I missed him terribly.
New apartment. It was the third story
of a large river-front house directly across from Mitch Wheeler's
property. I used to sit on my large deck, sipping chardonnay on my
days off, watching the boats float pass, and giggle at the memories
made in that house directly across from mine.
My apartment itself was a two bedroom,
one and half bath, large kitchen, and large living room with built in
wood-stove. It was cozy and perfect for privacy and entertaining, if
now that I lived on my own, I ever wanted to have my clients 'come up
and see me sometime'. For this reason, I had the guest room
converted into the perfect client friendly room, clean, lightly
decorated, silk sheets on the bed, and all the necessary supplies
needed for the night's event, that is, name your pleasure, Monsieur
(or even Madam) and I've got it.
My room was strictly off-limits to
clients and was decorated purely with myself in mind. Long, white,
billowy curtains hung from the floor length windows, and when the air
was warm enough, they blew gently about, like ghosts, with the breeze
from the open window. I had dark wood furniture, bookshelves, a
desk, two night stands, and a bed board. I covered my beds with red
silk coverings and large throw pillows. My walk in bathroom sported
a large beautiful jacuzzi like bathtub.
The living room was a mismatch of tan
wood and a white leather sofa with a matching white rug draped across
the floor before the fire place. In one side of the room, I had set
up the entertainment area, TV, DVD, CD player, the whole works. Yes,
I had a large kitchen and it was fairly well-stocked, mostly with
items needed for my clients, I was not much of a cook, you see. My
bathroom was more of my throne-room.
Joe was still in my life, somewhat.
Busy with finals, getting ready for the next term, and yes, a brief
affair with “Kimberly”, kept our interactions merely on the
business end and less in the manner of intimacy or physical.
I found myself in a little bit of a
depressive slump, sort of lonely and well, basically, in a rut. I
still loved my job and couldn't fathom doing anything else but I felt
as if I'd reached the limit, a plateau, of what this life had to
offer, at least, in this town.
I made more out of town trips, Seattle,
San Francisco, even as far away as New York. During a week long
excursion in what was fast becoming my favorite city, Seattle, I was
not only the escort for Ed but many of his friends as well. One
glorious night, I attended a sex party and participated in an orgy,
rather delightful. (I was paid well for it, kind of like over-time
pay for you 9-5 folks!) One Seattle client preferred to watch two
women together before he could be ready for sex, so I became one of
his regular girls. (That's where I met Stella, the beautiful black
haired vixen with the spiky short hair and the sarcastic wit and
really hit it off. I've had sex with girls before but Stella was in
a class all her own, someone with whom I could actually see myself
being friends with outside of the bedroom, and we were.)
The last night of the trip I spent in
Ed's penthouse. We sipped champagne and sat on the veranda looking
over the twinkling lights of Seattle at night. Ed ran his hands
across my bare shoulders, caressing my neck, and running his fingers
through my hair as I sat beside him.
“I so love it here,” I confessed.
“Then why don't you move?” he
wanted to know. I turned and saw a slow smile spread over his face.
“You've already got plenty of
clientele up here and I would be glad to help as much as possible.”
I studied his face as I took this in.
He was right, I did already have a lot going for me up here and down
there wasn't much, save for one reason to stay. Joe. But, would he
really mind if I left, if I wasn't around anymore would he miss me?
That question haunted me the rest of the night and on the flight
home.
The question of moving still hung about
me as I settled myself back home from the week away, so much that I
decided to go for a jog. (Physical fitness is of high importance in
my line of work, so I make it a daily thing.) I pulled on my stretch
pants and sports bra, slipped on my tennis shoes, and found my way
down the steps to the outside world.
I felt my feet thud upon the gravel
trail along the river and breathed deeply as I jogged. My hair
bobbed in its pony-tail as I made my way through the shadowy patches
of winter shade. I was pushing myself a little harder, seeking
clarity. After about twenty minutes, I rounded a corner and found
myself near a bench over looking the water, quietly nestled by
itself. I stopped, bending over to catch my breath. I listened to
the breeze in the trees, the lapping of the water on the shore, the
car engines driving on the bridge into the city not far away, until I
heard footsteps approaching. I turned and gasped, for coming around
the corner I saw Riley. He stopped immediately, about twenty feet
apart from me.
“Riley, I...I,” I grasped for
words.
“How are you, Anna?”
“Um, I'm fine...you?” I stammered.
“I'm doing the best I can,” he
admitted. He walked over to the bench and sat.
“What brings you here?” I asked,
still not moving.
“Thinking, I come here often to do
just that,” he remarked, mostly to himself.
“The same, I guess,” I admitted. I
came around and stood in front of the bench, looking down at him.
“About what, if I may ask?” he
wanted to know.
I hesitated a moment and then blurted
out, “About moving, up north, to Seattle.”
“Oh,” was all he said. But I knew
he understood the reasons behind my thinking. “So when?
“Not sure,” I went on. “Just
thinking about it, weighing the pros and cons, I guess.”
“The pros and cons?” Riley asked,
sitting up and looking straight at me. “Like?”
“The reasons to stay, the reasons to
leave,” was all I gave.
“Oh,” Riley said again. “And
those are?”
I sat on the bench and looked silently
out at the water, letting the breeze wash over me, searching for
answers or some form of guidance. Finding none, I remained silent.
“Anna,” Riley said at last. “I've
been thinking...about...us.”
I turned and looked at him out of the
corner of my eye. He went on,
“For what its worth, I miss you.
And, I hope maybe you miss me too. And, its just that...I think you
need some help, and I think I can be the one to do that for you.”
Despite all my feminist leanings, I
felt a part of my heart melt especially due to the confusion of my
present mindset. But, still I was sound enough to ponder this.
“What do you mean, “help me?” I
asked.
“I would take care of you,” Riley
began slowly. “You wouldn't have to do...what you do anymore.”
I turned and looked back out at the
river. As much as I cared for Riley, I wondered as to how much he
really knew or understood me. He went on,
“I could help you...figure out
another job, another way of life, you know.”
I thought for a moment and then got up.
He stood up then and looked me over.
“Now its time for me to ask you to 'say something',” he said with a slow smile.
“I want to continue my run,” was
all I managed. He looked crestfallen at that but then I looked up at
him and said reassuringly,
“I'll call you, okay?”
Then, I leaned over and hugged him. He
wrapped his arms around me and took in the scent of my neck. I
turned and headed off to continue my run on the way home. Now there
was a bit more of a confusing jumble of thoughts to unravel and
straighten in my mind before I made my decision.
The sun was setting as I climbed the
stairway towards my apartment. Later, after a shower, I sat on the
porch with my white wine watching the remaining shreds of the
disappearing sunlight fading, and with that faded the ties to my
existence in this town.
No comments:
Post a Comment