When we pull up to his apartment, I'm very excited, almost bouncing in my seat. Looking around in the dark, I'm stunned by the building. Holy SHIT! This is beyond exclusive. This is beyond even ‘celebrity exclusive’. What the hell? Z lives here? I don't understand.
"Ah, nice apartment."
"Thanks. But I hear your sarcasm. Don't judge me, I inherited the place and only finally moved into it last year, because I was a little rebellious in my youth." He's grinning again.
"Inherited it from whom? A Vanderbilt? A Rockefeller? Or maybe a Kennedy?"
"Pretty much. Now, watch your step." Seriously?! Which ONE?!
Once we are greeted by the doorman and the head of security, we finally ascend in the elevator and arrive at his place. Not quite the penthouse, thank god, but still, the second from top floor. Who owns the top floor? Bill Gates? The Crown Prince of Dubai?
Opening the door, Z steps in and turns on many lights. Oh! It's lovely. The whole area looks warm and inviting. There are beiges and creams and even red-browns, everywhere. I love this room. It's not gaudy, or gold washed, there are no gilded mirrors, antique chairs or Greco-Roman statues. It's just a very nice and comfy, living room. I love it.
"This room is beautiful. It's not tacky or gaudy at all. I LOVE it!" I think I'm stunned.
Laughing again, "Did you think I was the type to live in a tacky, gaudy apartment?"
"Oh... Oh, god no! Sorry. I just had a visual of huge statues, and gold frames everywhere. This is much better, it’s stunning really."
"Thank you. I chose the colors for this room, but not the furniture- though I have no complaints."
Standing in the doorway like an idiot, my brain finally wakes up and I ask, "May I go in?"
"Of course. Please Sweetheart, make yourself as comfortable as you can be. Would you like a quick tour?" God, yes!
"Please."
Taking my hand again to begin the tour, I’m thrilled. I love this! I love this apartment! I love Z holding my hand! I love everything here in New York.
"Okay. To your left is the kitchen, dining room and atrium, but we'll see that in the morning. To the right, follow me, are the bedrooms, library and bathrooms."
It’s so nice. I would love to live here forever. As if!
"This is the library. It's a little pretentious, but I just couldn't change anything in it. It felt like it had a kind of history all its own that I didn't want to mess with." I see what he means.
"There’s the main bathroom. It’s fairly generic. This is the first spare room, also fairly boring. This second spare room is where most guests stay because it's larger and it has an ensuite bathroom."
"Wow. It's huge, yet still warm and comfortable. I like that it's the same color scheme as the main room." Am I staying in here? He hasn't stop wheeling the luggage, so maybe not.
"And here’s the master bedroom..." Oh. My. GOD!
"This is very, very big, and beautiful, and wow, kind of sexy." Shit. That was out loud!
"Yes, most women like it. I love the furniture, but I'm not overly fond of the color. It's an acquired taste I think, at least for a man."
Most women? Well, shit…that statement kinda hurt my chest a little. But what? Did I really think Z was a virgin before he met me? Get a grip. Pull it together.
"It's red and burgundy and black. These are stunning colors, Z. And yes, I could see a manly man such as yourself having to get used to it. I love the furniture too. Wow. The mahogany furniture is antique, no? And just beautiful.”
"Yes. The bedside tables are reproduction pieces, Kittinger, to be exact. But the rest of the furniture are original pieces; a few bought overseas, and some are very old, bought for the apartment in the late 1800's. Again, I love the furniture, but the colors are a little too ‘boudoir’ for my liking." It’s so SEXY! Am I staying in here?
"Where would you like me to put your things?" Here! Right, here!
"Um, wherever you want." There! You decide!
"Where would you be most comfortable?" Shit. Right HERE! "You're the guest. Where would you like to sleep?" In your bed. HERE! Dammit!
"The guest room next door will be fine." I want to stay here! With you!
"Okay. Are you tired? You must be. Would you like anything before bed?" YOU!
"No. I'll just settle in and go to sleep. What time do you have to leave in the morning?" Please say you don't have to leave me. Please!
"We can have breakfast together, then I'll set you up with my Kindle. I have to leave by 10:30 but I should be back around 3:00. Is that okay?" No. I want you here with me, ALL day.
"Yes. Thank you." I hate this. I feel all abandoned or something.
When Z takes me back to the bigger spare room, he again asks if I need anything, and after I decline, he kisses me gently on the lips. It's a nice kiss, if not very bland. Dammit. He was much more flirty and sexy with me in Chicago. I guess ‘what happens in Chicago, stays in Chicago’. Maybe I was just that- a ‘Chicago-thing’ and now that he's on his home turf, he no longer wants me. Or maybe because he's already had me, he no longer wants me. Or maybe I was so bad earlier he no longer wants me. Or...
"Stop. What is it? Please tell me what you’re thinking." No way.
"Nothing. I'm just tired. Good night, Z, and thank you for everything. You've been very kind to me." God, I feel so sad suddenly I just need to be alone.
"If you want or need anything at all, just come get me, or yell for me, or even knock on the wall... Okay?" He states grinning.
"Okay. Good night, Z." No kiss. Dammit.
Closing the door behind me, I head for the bathroom, remove my make-up, brush my teeth and use the toilet. I'm all done.
Opening my luggage, I pull out my pajamas, and don't even bother putting my clothes away right now. Who cares about wrinkles when I feel all sad and lonely inside? I just want to crawl into bed, and sleep away all this sad, heavy feeling.
Crawling in, the antique clock reads nearly 3am, and I feel exhausted. I can't even fight sleep and I don't want to. I need to sleep off all this sadness.
Closing my eyes, I feel the pull quickly. After a whispered good night to Z, I can feel myself sinking. I'm so tired.
I’m done…
Tuesday, May, 31st
CHAPTER 16
Slowly waking in a gentle wash of sunlight, I feel cold and groggy. It's 8:52 am, and I’ve slept long enough. Trying to get out of bed, proves challenging though. I simply don't want to. I just want to lay here for another 6 hours. I want the lethargy to fade, but I don't actually want to do anything about it. Get UP! No!
Quickly waking in a harsh glare of sunlight, I’m overheated and alert. It's 11:41pm, and I have slept way too long. Hopping out of bed is easy. I simply have to. I don't want to lay here for another minute. The lethargy has faded, and I didn't have to do anything about it. Should I get moving? Yes!
As I walk out of my room toward the living room, I am amazed at the beauty of the apartment. All the big and little details I didn't see or notice last night, are simply gorgeous in the daylight.
Who owned this place before Z? Who DID he inherit it from? How old is it? How much is it worth? Downtown Manhattan, huge apartment, original almost everything... I would have to say at least 20-25 million, probably much more. It's just spectacular. Where’s Z?
In the kitchen, I see a bowl on the table and beside it Apple Jacks and a note. Smiling, I grab for the note from Z.
Sweetheart,
I hope you slept well. I did check up on you through the night, and this morning, and you seemed well, and OUT COLD. Therefore, I didn't want to wake you before I left.
As you can see, I too love Apple Jacks, so dig in. There are many other food supplies in the fridge and cupboards, so help yourself to whatever you would like. The coffee pot is also ready, just turn it on if you feel like some coffee.
My Kindle is ready for all your tantalizingly filthy novels. The account is up and ready, and the Kindle is in the library beside the window. I hope you're comf
ortable in there, but feel free to change locations if you’d like.
I plan to return close to 3:00. If you need anything, or just want to talk, please call my cell. Even by Manhattan's standard of time and traffic, I can be back fairly quickly if you need me.
Make yourself at home, and enjoy your time off. Hopefully, you won't think yourself to death before I return.
Yours, Z
Okay. Good. He sounds the same. He's not freaked that I'm here, and he doesn't seem freaked by me. Maybe I should do something before he gets home so I'm not a bother. I could cook him dinner, or I could clean his house, or I could tidy up... Or I could snoop around? No! That would be very ungracious, and yet my feet start walking to his bedroom anyway.
Once inside the red and burgundy boudoir, I reach for his closet. Wow! On the left side of the walk-in, there are the requisite dark suits... many dark suits, but then there are hundreds of dress shirts, in hundreds of colors. On the right side, Z's casual clothing is hung in a crazy array of rainbow colors. There is so much color it’s almost blinding. He doesn't discriminate at all. From canary yellows, to teals, red, and even a few pink golf-type shirts. As for my favorite black? Z has very little black anything, excluding, the 5 or so perfectly pressed tuxedos in the back of the closet.
I am stunned by all the color. I didn't know someone could live like this. Even Marcus who did wear color, only apparently wore some color... blues, greens and browns... boy colors.
Shit... Z is crazy for color. No wonder he asked about all my black. He must have gone into a near coma surrounded by all my black the last couple days. Maybe I should go buy something with a little color. Yes! That's what I'll do.
Returning to the kitchen, I think about eating a bowl of cereal quickly, but I'm too excited to eat. Running back to the spare room ensuite, I shower quickly. Washing my hair is required, but it is so time consuming to dry I decide to just twist it into a chignon wet. My hair is so heavy, that the twist won’t really frizz my hair, but rather turn it to light waves when I pull it out this evening. It'll have to do.
Heading back to my luggage in the spare room, I dress quickly in black slacks and blouse, with a light black cardigan overtop. Quick make-up, quick hair twist into a chignon, quick everything, and I'm done. I'm going to do this.
What am I going to buy? Color in what? Pajamas? A blouse? A cardigan? Bra and panties? Oh, god no. I'm not going there today. I am definitely not ready for lingerie shopping, though it might be fun…? Ah no, lingerie shopping will NOT be fun. Christ, what average sized woman wants to see herself well-lit in a change room filled with perfect bras and panties? Plus, I don’t know if Z even wants me anymore now that we're in New York.
By the door, I see keys in a glass bowl, filled with crystals. Fitting a key into the keyhole... Yes! It works the front door. What else do I need? Grabbing my purse, cell phone, money, and the key, I'm good to go. Downstairs, the doorman whistles and… Seriously? ... in mere seconds a taxi pulls up.
Where am I going exactly? Um, Macy's on West 34th Street? It's a little generic, not super posh like the little shops in the Fashion District, but I think I'm more comfortable in a large store with lots of security, just in case. The taxi driver is nice and friendly, and very non-threatening, so Macy’s it is.
Arriving at Macy's, I'm almost shocked at the sheer sizes of it. I've been here before, many times with my mother in fact, but I had forgotten just how large it is.
Where to begin? Staring at the floor plan I read; 3rd Floor: 'Women's Dress clothing' and 4th Floor: 'Women's Casual clothing'. And the 5th Floor: Yay! Shoes. Where the hell DO I begin? The 3rd floor and then make my way up to the 5th floor? That makes sense.
Um, sweaters... Not much selection. The summer line is in full swing. I see a few though, in various shades. One particular light cardigan jumps out at me. I'll try it. Walking over to the blouses, there are hundreds. I see blue and white stripes, very nautical. I hate sailing, another disappointment for my parents. Yuck! There are pinks and oranges, and even a crazy collage of color and shapes on one very loud blouse. Choosing one, I head for the pants.
Jeans…? Ah, never. Slacks...? There are so many choices again. Grabbing a sleek pair of slacks was easy. Pants just do or don't work. I actually prefer skirts, because I find my ‘big butt and thighs’ look much less obvious in skirts. Huh. I wonder if my aversion to jeans is based solely on the obvious inability to hide any extra weight within them.
Leaving the slacks, I head over to the dresses. Again, there are hundreds to choose from. I see sexy, slinky, elegant, youngish, and middle-aged styles. Where the hell do I fit in? I look younger than my age, but I’m older than I look. Do I go younger or older? Maybe both? Oh! I see a particularly sexy, low-cut, cleavage showing, short cocktail dress with a little bolero jacket for modesty. It’s very nice. Actually, I think I love it.
I pick my size in everything, and then the duplicate piece of clothing in a size up. You never know... Macy's might have their own sizing gauge. I swear some department stores do this either to excite or depress their customers. Though, why they would want to depress us into NOT buying their clothing, when we try on a size higher than our usual, I’ll never understand.
On the fourth floor, I am almost overwhelmed completely. Where do I even begin? There is just color, and clothing, and people, and stuff everywhere. This is insane and awesome too.
I don't remember it like this with my mother, then again, I was usually just focusing on her words and moods and agreeing to whatever or whomever she was talking negatively about at the time.
Choosing a couple cute t-shirts, and casual tops, plus 2 knee high skirts, I head for the fifth floor. Oh! This is a very cute hat. It has a large brim and even flowers and feathers. It's perfect for the beach, or for a wedding, or for anything in England. Oh! This is a much cuter hat. I have to have it! Jeez… my arms are getting tired, and my back is killing me. Why are there no shopping carts in here? Ha! Probably because women could use them as weapons if need be.
Yay! Now I’m onto the shoes. After the escalator drops me on the fifth floor, I just stop and take in the sight of the heels, and the smell of all the leather. Most women love shoes, but I LOVE them. I need them. High heels are the only things that keep me from being trampled. Shoes give me the height needed to survive. Like right now. If I wasn't wearing these particularly painful 4 1/2' heels, these women might simply step over me to get to all the incredible heels. Why the hell is everyone in New York so freakin’ tall? Survival of the fittest? Probably.
Shit. There's a major sale today, so it seems everyone is grabbing, reaching and shuffling each other to get what they want. I see security in place, and I almost want to ask for assistance shopping. Oh, I can’t help my giggle.
And then I see my shoes. I will knock any bitch on her ass to get them. These are them. I HAVE TO have them. I LOVE them. I’m done. These are high-heel heaven. They are beyond gorgeous. They are MINE! Just like that, these heels reached out and smacked me in the face. Hello babies… mama’s here.
Walking to find the change rooms is somewhat challenging, but once there I eventually convince a Sales Associate on the fourth floor to take pity on me. She agrees and allows me to change in the slightly more secluded wheelchair accessible room after I promised to vacate immediately if the room is needed.
I don't really want catty women watching me, or judging me. The Sales Associate seems to understand my reservation, especially since I’m struggling with the huge bundle of clothing in my arms.
Just as I close the door, and finally exhale, my phone rings and its Z with perfect timing. Dumping all the clothes, and my fabulous pair of shoes on the large couch inside my awesome change room, I quickly answer.
"Hi. How's your day, dear?" That sounded so cute. I love asking Z that.
"Um, good. Where are you? I called the house, but you didn't answer. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes. I’m completely okay. I'm shopping at Macy's on Broadway, and it’s crazy here. I came on
major shoe sale day, so the women are a little scary." Giggle.
"I can imagine. How long do you think you'll be?"
"Not long. I'm just trying on all the clothes now. Why? Do you miss me?” Please, miss me.
"Of course I do. I’ve found myself thinking of you non-stop today.” Really? “Its 3:15 and I'm done for the day, so I thought I’d meet you there. Maybe we could have an early dinner?"
"SURE!" Ooops, tone it down. "Sure. I'm in the change rooms on the fourth floor. I think I'm going to try to leave with the clothes on, if I like them."
"What? You're going to pay for them though, right?" Duh.
"Yes, of course Z. I just meant I would ask the Sales Associate to cut off the tags, so I could PAY FOR THEM, and wear them out. Women do that, you know?"
"No, I didn't. But that's good to know. I should be there in twenty minutes. Have fun."
"Okay. See you soon. I hope you like the clothes...” I whisper as I hang up.
==========
Hurrying, I'm frantic to be dressed and changed by the time Z arrives. Though my back is a constant agony, I could care less!
The slacks and one skirt are a giant NO! Ick. They are major weight adding clothing- as if I need that. A few of the tops are adorable and user friendly, for sure. I don't look extra heavy in them. The dress is stunning, and it fits well. I hate all the blouses but 2 of them. And the high heels are to die for. They are a stunning display of grace and height. I don't look short in them at all. I’m like an awesome Amazon woman or something. I love them!
Asking for help, I’m dressed and all the tags are removed and ready for purchase when I finally leave the change room. The Sales Associate is looking at me a little strangely, but I think she’s just a little jealous because the awesome shoes look so good with my new outfit.