CHAPTER FIVE

  Laura made her way down the stairs, where she caught up with Audrey and Liz—the two members of her benefits team. The younger women looked up to Laura as being a relatable middle-point between their junior level of responsibility and upper management, while Laura looked upon them for what they were; party girls, fresh out of college and with all the vistas of youth and beauty before them. The three couldn’t have been more ill matched. Laura, who looked classically beautiful and dressed as subtly and gracefully as always, standing next to two bubbly and vacant women who were dressed one notch above a club girl. Laura had little in common with neither Audrey nor Liz; but they were fun and helped her laugh on their nights out.

  As the crowd of office blazers, liberal use of hairspray and Avon cosmetics milled about the lobby, Jack stood near the side, helping himself to the complimentary coffee carafes. He looked at Aubrey and Liz, both in form fitting dresses, with the same patronization as he had the two women he encountered at the bar of the Omni the night before. He felt a blasé sort of allure, about as average these days as skin cancer. Still, they stood out from the teeming women before him if solely on account of their youth. But Jack wasn’t here to play the Lothario. No, he was waiting for his nephew and his wife—who by now, were predictably over twenty minutes late. He stifled a yawn, looked as his watch, and sucked in air. Then, as she returned from the lobby bathroom, his eyes fell on Laura.

  He instantly recalled her from the scene in the elevator earlier that morning. But if she was merely pretty then, to Jack’s eyes she was positively devastating right now. Where he had only noticed an exhaustion some eight hours earlier, he noticed the vulnerability in her posture, her eyes, her uncertain smile; he sensed it permeating around her, and saw beneath a fluid and volatile spring that sent a rush of warmth through his spine. His eyes drank her in, even if she was unaware of his leering. She was too busy being introduced by her director to the organizers of the convention, making senseless small talk to take notice of the narrowing eyes of Jack DiStefano. He stood savoring her every gesture, every uneasy laugh, her soft voice floating through the cackle and chatter of the crowd directly to his ears. He was so caught up in his reverie that he didn’t even notice his nephew and wife make their way through the lobby.

  “Hey, Uncle Jack. Sorry we’re late, but we had to pick up Chrissy from her recital and drop her off at Lena’s mom’s for the evening.”

  Jack nodded politely, but couldn’t take his eyes off Laura. For one brief, fleeting moment, she turned her head in his direction and they caught one another’s eyes. They shared a sweet, sad smile before Jack turned to accompany his nephew to dinner.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The conference, like it had been for the past two years she attended, was enough to make Laura fall asleep. Between the opening remarks and the introductory workshop on time management facilitation, she was looking sideways at the temptingly open doors of the hotel bar. She wondered just how uncouth it might be if she were to slip aside on pretext of using the bathroom to grab a quick drink, but decided against it. After all, one of the reasons her director had invited her there was to set a good example for Audrey and Liz.

  When 8:30 finally rolled around and it was time for dinner, both of them pulled Laura aside.

  Aubrey was already slightly tipsy went she whispered in Laura’s ear, “Laura… not for nothing, but we have some really good weed on us. Are you game?”

  It had been a good couple of months since the last time Laura decided to smoke pot. She took a look around her, and figured she could use a break to unwind. “Sure, why not? Where you want to light up?”

  The three of them walked outside into the back lot of the hotel, finding a desolate clump of bushes to stand by. Laura felt like she was back in her college days as they took turns passing around the joint, keeping a close eye to ensure hotel security didn’t spot them. They were completely isolated.

  “Is this what we have to look forward to?” Liz asked in a roundabout way.

  “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” replied Laura.

  “All of this… these conferences… this endless game of kissing up… is that what we need to do to get ahead?”

  Laura paused. It was true that there was very little either of them could learn from any of the workshops; that the whole point of the conventions was to appear motivated in the eyes of higher-ups. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that there was more to the question. What did it mean to be at a senior director level? Higher pay? Greater responsibility? What about personal fulfillment? What about challenge? What about joy?

  Why did she waste so many years in college studying the intricacies of HR sciences when she could have been perfectly fulfilled as a photographer or a pastry chef?

  It became clear to Laura that she was, for the first time in several months, incredibly stoned. What didn’t become clear to Laura was how little she had eaten in the past 24 hours, unbeknownst to Liz or Aubrey. So when the latter suggested that they skip out on the dinner and have a few drinks at the bar instead, Liz was more than happy to.

  It was Friday night and the bar was packed. Surrounding the three girls on all sides were smug and self-assured wealth managers (all vying to sneak a peak at the younger two of the trio), merrily drunken couples out for a night on the town, slovenly sports fans eyeing the game on TV and… Jack DiStefano, sitting perpendicular to the three girls, nursing his ever-present single malt scotch.

  Soon, Aubrey and Liz found themselves embroiled in conversation with two young, clean-cut professionals who were eager to buy them drinks… and purposefully ignoring Laura, who began to feel like a third wheel. Just as well, she thought. I could have wound up with another Dan, otherwise.

  Still, her insecurities had begun to kick in. All around her, she saw couples ferociously in the act of either seduction or routine. She began to feel that there might be something wrong with her after all. Why had she enjoyed being single for all these months? Was she abnormal? Were her standards too high?

  Jack watched her brow furrowing. When she finished her martini, she excused herself from the bar to step outside. He took his cue.

  “Henry,” he said to the bartender. “For the rest of the evening, the young lady is on my tab. Please freshen her drink.”

  The bartender nodded, and obligingly did so while Jack followed in pursuit.

  “A disgusting habit,” he announced to the startled Laura, who was standing outside the front of lobby smoking. She jumped upon hearing his voice, then turned around to see Jack smiling, a lit cigarette also in his hand.

  She looked dazed for a second before coolly replying, “We all need our vices.”

  “We all need diversions,” Jack corrected her.

  “What’s the difference?” Laura replied, suddenly intrigued by the presence of the strange but charming stranger.

  “Twenty years on your life?” Jack chuckled, and Laura followed suit.

  “Of course, without some form of a habit or another, what would we be left with? Living in a monastery?”

  “Maybe. Maybe monks are just as subject to habits as anyone else. Pardon the pun…”

  Laura laughed out loud at the admittedly poor joke. Perhaps it was the weed. Perhaps it was Jack. But there was something so engaging and comforting in the way Jack composed himself that she couldn’t help but feel at ease around him. “And in Providence,” she asked with a sly grin. “Where does it place itself in the field of vice?”

  “It all depends. Probably pretty highly—if you’re a monk.”

  And with that, Laura burst out laughing. At first, a minor chuckle; then, a hearty guffaw. Soon, she was laughing uncontrollably, so hard she thought she would lose her breath. “I’m sorry,” she replied between gasps of thin air. “But I needed that. I can’t remember the last time I laughed, so…”

  “That’s a horrible place to be,” replied Jack.

  Laura regained herself. “I guess so. Listen, I’m having a drink inside. Would you care to join me?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  When they returned to the bar, both Liz and Aubrey had moved down several stools to be closer to their would-be suitors. There were several open seats next to Laura’s, and a fresh martini in front of her.

  “I don’t think I ordered this,” she said as Jack sat to her right.

  “Perhaps it’s from a secret admirer,” he smiled shrewdly. Laura blushed.

  Soon, the two were caught up in a surprisingly deep discussion. Laura had opened up to Jack in a way she rarely opened up to anyone before, regardless of how close. She bared her heart to him—her divorce, her frustration with her job, her friends, dating… all of which she kept inside of herself, like a nagging itch she could never scratch. It felt good to pour her heart out to Jack, and she began to wonder just how she had spent so much of the past two years bottling all her fears and her frustrations deep inside her.

  As comfortable as she was opening up to an absolute stranger, there was something still that intimidated her about Jack. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it; it was indefinable. So she drank. Hesitantly at first; then, more rapidly. Soon, as the night wore on, she began to lose touch with the surroundings—the noise, the cackling, the clinking of glasses. All she could focus on was Jack.

  By the time it was 11:30, she was completely, irrevocably drunk - to the point of being cut off. She begged Jack for apologies, but he simply smiled. He offered to assist her to her room, to make certain she got in without any harm. As he helped her stagger to the elevator, arm wrapped around arm, the bartender couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of an older (and high-tipping man) with a younger, much prettier woman who could barely stand up straight. What is this world coming to, he thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Laura woke up the next morning at 7:30. It took her a bit to open her eyes, but once she did she was startled to find herself in an entirely different room than the one she checked into. Gone were the classy but modest tapestries and carpets; instead, the luxurious room features hardwood floors, rich oriental rugs and a vast, imposing alcove. The bed she had been sleeping in was not only substantially larger, but much more comfortable than she remembered. She rubbed her eyes to assure herself she was not dreaming. Then, she heard the shower from the bathroom on full blast.

  She tried to piece together the fragments from the night before, but her head hurt too much. The last thing she remembered was talking to a much older, but handsome man who insisted on buying her drinks. She remembered laughing at his jokes and then… nothing. Her temples throbbed and her mouth felt parched. She felt ashamed, but still she had to double check. She peeked under the covers and saw that she was still in her clothes from the night before. And to make matters doubly odd, there was a guest cot directly facing the bed that was covered by some well-worn, crumpled blankets.

  Just then, the shower stopped. She wondered how much time she had to slip on her shoes, grab her purse and creep out of there, but the very thought of sitting up was enough to make her nauseous. She took a deep sigh as the door opened revealing Jack with his hair dripping wet and dressed in a pair of pajamas and a white t-shirt displaying surprisingly chiseled and vigorous forearms.

  “Morning,” he said without turning her way, walking over to the mini-fridge. He returned with a bottle of mineral water he placed on the nightstand. “I’ll make you some coffee. Unless you’d prefer tea?”

  “No… coffee’s fine,” replied Laura meekly.

  “I’ll get you some aspirin as well. I have some fruit in the fridge—you really should eat something.”

  She was puzzled by his nonchalance. Still, the sense of potential regret lingered within her. She knew the question had to come out some time, so it might as well be now.

  “I’m sorry… but… did we…?”

  Jack, who had begun to brew her coffee, gave her an incredulous look before chuckling. “Jesus, Laura... Give me some credit. Do you remember anything about last night?”

  She shook her head.

  “You were unable to tell me where your room was. You were unable to find your card. If I brought you downstairs, in all likelihood the concierge would have called security. So I let you sleep it off here. I am not the sort of person who would take advantage of someone in that state.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she protested. “It’s just that I can’t remember much.”

  “Laura, even if you hadn’t been drinking, you revealed more to me than you possibly even know about yourself.” He turned to fetch her coffee and sat on the bed next to her, giving her a warm peck on the forehead. She felt much better, but there was still something new about this experience. Even though she hadn’t remembered much about this stranger—she couldn’t even remember his name - she knew instinctively that there was something different about him. Something compulsive. Something unusual. Something torrential; and something… magnetic.

  “Would you think less of me if I told you I can’t even remember your name?”

  Jack smiled. “You never asked. Anyways, it’s not important. Not yet. What’s important is… that you need to stop living a lie.”

  Laura’s face blanched. “What - what do you mean?”

  “What I mean, my dear, is that you were meant for something much more than you think. Do you really think you’re cut out to be a glorified secretary?”

  Laura shook her head.

  “Do you really think you were meant to be like your friends? I’m sorry, I forgot their names.”

  Laura almost felt frightened that either Liz, Aubrey or any of the other conference attendees saw her in that state last night, especially leaving in the arms of an older man. But there was something reassuring about Jack, so she put the thought out of her head. “No - no, not at all.”

  “Well, what is it you think you were meant to be?”

  “I don’t… I guess… I don’t know,” her voice sounded confused. She had no idea what this older stranger was getting at, or what he was going to ask next.

  “Well there’s only one way to find out,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Take off your clothes.”

  Laura chuckled. But Jack turned to her sternly, and placed his face just inches from hers, squeezing her wrists.

  “I’m serious. Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” He enunciated each syllable so fervently; Laura felt she had no choice but to comply.

  She stood up, trembling. She slid her skirt off clumsily, before stretching her arms over her head to remove the blouse. Jack helped her by pulling it off forcefully, giving her a fright. “All… all of them?” she asked. Her head no longer throbbed, but she felt as if any second she was going to cry.

  “Yes, all of them,” Jack replied assuredly.

  She unfastened her bra slowly with her back towards Jack, but he soon swiveled her around to face him. She lingered over the simple black panties but realized if she had gone this far, she may as well remove everything for him.

  Jack looked approvingly at every inch of her body -the supple hips; the small, firm breasts; her soft belly revealing a soft mole that seemed to dazzle in Jack’s eyes like a diamond; the gorgeous, if sleepy, face; the wide, quivering lips; even the heavy, half shut eyelids. He bade her to turn around, not lifting a finger upon her. She did so slowly, and when she turned around to face him, she saw a warm and loving smile plastered over his face. She smiled in return.

  “Now, why did you do that so willingly?” Jack questioned her. She shrugged her shoulders. “At no point, did I force you to. At no point did I threaten you. At no point, was I going to lay a finger on you. Now there must be something that possessed you to do so of your own free will, wasn’t there?”

  She could feel Jack’s question piercing her. Every illusion she had of free will seemed to crumble. Who was she? What were the choices she made in her life? Were they hers, or were they done solely to please outside interests? Did her choices define her? If not, what did?

  Still, there was no denying it. She stripped for Jack solely because he had asked her to. She had never experienced a man being so direct with her before in her life. Every one of her relationships had involved a senseless rigmarole, an increasingly transparent game that she was tired of being an active participant in. But in Jack’s game?

  She felt passive. As if she were the board, and not the pieces. And the more passive she felt, the more excited she became with the novelty of it all. And the more excited she became, the more secure she felt.

  “I’ll ask again… What possessed you to strip for me of your own free will?”

  “I… because… I,” Laura hesitated to try to put into words what was going through her brain. Finally, she had no choice but to admit it. She felt it last night, when Jack was acting the perfect gentleman while she was drunk out of her gourd. She felt it as soon as she even laid eyes on Jack for the very first time. And she felt it now, naked in this man’s penthouse suite. “It’s… Because I wanted to!” she yelled, with a force that surprised even her.

  For the first time in her life, Laura Kimball felt entirely in control of herself - in control of her life, in control of her body. Seized as she was in Jack’s snare, she knew she had made a conscious choice in her life. She knew that submitting to him wasn’t duty, or an act of loneliness. She knew that submitting to him wasn’t a question of how much she was willing to give, but how much she was willing to let go.

  Jack bade her to sit down in front of him. She felt confused at first until he sternly made her kneel in front of him, while he firmly bunched a fistful of her hair in his hands. Clammy, hung-over and red-eyed, she was still the most beautiful woman he had seen in several years. As he tugged gently on her hair, the shock made her wince until he touched the dimples of her cheek with his finger.

  “Laura, I need you to understand something. You are not what you think you are. You are not your self-doubt or your self-pity. You are not some office drone. You are neither weak nor are you a coward. But you are mine. Do you understand?”

 

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