“Christopher, Roth, and Reiss. They were especially interested in me because they’ve just landed two huge corporate identity projects. It’s all very exciting. We have meetings in China week after next.”
“Did you do a lot of traveling in your last job?”
She nods before taking a long sip of her martini. “Quite a bit, especially to Australia. Our partner agency was there.”
“Cool. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
We order small plates from the bar and feast on mussels, octopus, and several exotic cheese presentations as she tells me about her favorite projects. I realize when we order our second round of drinks that she hasn’t asked me a single thing about myself. I also haven’t smiled other than those fake smiles you give when you want people to think you’re interested in what they’re saying even though you’re not.
“Do you travel much for work?” she asks, and I have to regroup to realize that she’s actually addressed me.
“Not really unless you call trekking down to Orange County traveling. We mainly do projects in this region, although the partners are doing a big project in Dallas.”
“So how did you end up in landscape architecture as opposed to building architecture? Wouldn’t that be more lucrative?”
“I suppose, but I’ve loved trees and working the earth since I was a boy from hanging out with my dad on jobs. Besides, there’s lots of cutting edge design happening in landscaping. A good design enhances the building.”
“Your dad’s a gardener, isn’t he?” she asks, her gaze wandering off to some people at the bar.
Her tone is condescending like there’s something wrong with what he does.
“He’s an irrigation specialist,” I reply.
“Irrigation. Right,” she says nodding with an intent look on her face. “So do you think you’ll stay in L.A.?”
“I imagine so. My family is here, and I like L.A. It suits me.”
“Hmm, interesting.” She waves the bartender over for a third round. I really feel that two was plenty but before I can say anything the bartender has turned away and starts preparing our order.
She’s a few sips into her fresh martini when I finally see her loosening up. Up until now this tall drink of water has had quite a tolerance for gin. I’m hoping the conversation gets more interesting now that she’s getting a little more relaxed.
“So did you have to leave a boyfriend in New York?” I ask taking the final bite of burrata from the plate of cheeses.
She’s fishing the rogue olive out of the bottom of her glass. “He’s one of the reasons I came out here. I was tired of waiting for him.”
“Waiting?”
“He’s married, and kept telling me he was leaving his pathetic wife.”
I feel a wave of disgust. “Oh, that kind of waiting.”
“And I’m sure she suspected us . . . I mean, all those late nights we ‘worked’ together on projects. I think she just didn’t want to let him go.”
“You worked together?” I have to focus to keep my expression neutral, as much as my stomach is turning. The illusion I had that Melanie is perfect has just faded like a photograph left in a sunny window. Every edge to her is now faded and undefined.
“He was one of the partners. I got spoiled with those long trips to Australia and having him all to myself.”
“Wow. That’s quite a story.”
“And I know he wanted me. I’m sure of it. But he just was afraid of the divorce and how it would affect his kids.”
Oh Jesus. She’s unbelievable.
“Right. So he has kids?”
“Four kids! Can you believe it! One’s just a year old. She got knocked up with that one when I was on a business trip without him. It was just another one of her desperate attempts to hold onto him.”
Wow. So now a man having sex with his wife is cheating on her? The wife did not impregnate herself. He would’ve had to want to have sex with his wife. I guess she can’t accept that.
“So that must have pissed you off.”
“You have no idea. I broke up with him for almost a month that time.”
“Why did you get back with him?”
“He needs me. I’m who he should be with—he’s an incredible, dynamic man and she’s just a housewife.”
“Actually, she’s a mom, and that’s a big job . . . with four kids that’s a really big one, I bet.”
“Whose side are you on?” she asks with a stern expression. I suddenly notice that up close her skin isn’t so smooth after all.
“Side?”
“Oh, let me guess you want kids, too.”
“I do. So I take it you don’t.”
She purses her lips as she shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”
As I watch her sip the last of her drink I marvel that I was once so crazy for this woman. She just seemed so intriguing compared to the other girls in high school. She projected the feeling that she had important things ahead of her and the talent and confidence to get her there. And I have to admit that she was the only girl I ever wanted who didn’t succumb to my charms, so that made her all the more desirable in my eyes. Now that I’ve got her full attention she’s a two dimensional woman with apparently no soul, and not the slightest bit interesting to me.
She looks up at me with one eyebrow arched like she knows a secret. “So I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Paul.”
Wait . . . did she just bat her eyelashes at me? Oh hell no.
“Yeah, what did you hear?”
“That you’re quite the beast in bed.”
I almost spit out the ice cube that’s been rolling around on my tongue.
She leans toward me and speaks in a soft voice. “It is true that you partake in orgies?”
I watch the flush of what I sure as hell hope isn’t arousal crawl up her long neck as she bites her lip, waiting for my answer. “Why do you want to know?”
She chews on the tip of her olive pick. “Because I’d like to try that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve been with women before. My college roommate turned me onto the wonders of that scene, but I’ve only ever done one-on-one.”
I’m speechless. Melanie is bi. That’d be really hot if I liked her a lot more than I do right now.
“My boyfriend that I just mentioned really likes to watch me with another woman.”
“Really? How modern of him.” I gesture to the bartender for the check.
“What’s the most women you’ve done in one orgie?” she asks, leaning even closer.
“I think the stories about me have been exaggerated.” I hand the bartender my credit card without taking time to open the folder to check the bill.
“Well, I’ve heard straight from the source about your many talents.” I feel the tips of her fingers graze my knee as I slide the credit card back in my wallet.
So is this why she wanted to see me? I’m not even sure in my craziest times that I would have fucked her after hearing all that I did tonight. I may have screwed women I didn’t have anything in common with during my sex fiend days, but I never screwed someone I didn’t like.
I manage to get her outside claiming a really early morning at work. We’re standing next to the building at the valet station—waiting for my car and her Uber—when she suddenly turns and leans into me, pressing me against the building.
“Why don’t you come for a drink at my place?”
If I push my disappointment with her aside, I can’t deny that it feels really good to have a beautiful woman this close to me after two dry years, but there’s no way I’m going to her place.
I choose a vague reply. “Tonight’s not the night.”
She leans her face into my neck and skins her teeth along my stubble while she slips her hand into the back pocket of my jeans. She moans as she squeezes my ass and pulls me against her. “We could have such a good time,” she whispers.
My head starts swimming, it’s been so damn long since anyone has rubbed against me like I was the flint to their flame. I shouldn’t be surprised when she kisses me. Honestly, I’m trying so hard to focus on her home wrecker ways, and not her naked with another woman, that I don’t see her next move coming as her tongue slides in my mouth and tries to take control of mine. She’s moving over me like hot lava and with the resulting roar in my head I barely hear the valet clearing his throat and jingling the car keys.