Haze

chapter 2

I worked the best I could the rest of the day, my mind constantly drifting from subject to subject and then immediately reverting back to Jack and our strange introduction. He had quickly become my mind's prime fixation. Nice, clumsy fellow one second, devious schemer the next. I couldn't figure him out.

When Sam went to lunch, I sat frozen to my chair, staring at my computer screen. Something told me that I needed to learn more about Jack, but something also told me to let it go. I took a few deep breaths and settled on letting it go. Once I was less confused, I'd resume my investigation; an investigation that I convinced myself was only based on curiosity.

I could be so gullible sometimes...

As weird as the whole encounter was—coffee spilling, aggressive questioning, supposed lying about the purpose of the meeting—a glimmer of bizarre optimism remained. Was I just that desperate that the mere thought of a hot guy was enough to fire me up right now, to engulf me in flames?

I wasn't new to the dating game at all. I dated in high school, and I had two primary boyfriends in college. Well, and a brief depressed party girl phase where I was a little more “open” than I probably should have been. It was really amazing what drunken frat boys could get super drunk sorority girls to do with each other just by asking.

Thankfully, that had ended almost as quick as it had started, and the damage control had been adequate.

I still had moments where I thought about him—him being my last ex, Timothy—but they were starting to fade away entirely. The decision to break up had been somewhat unexpected, the product of my desire to pursue this job in NYC.

I met him between my sophomore and junior years of college, and everything had been great. He was an engineering major—a lucrative field, I must say; I was very jealous of the sheer number of job offers he received upon graduating—but his ties to his family were weirdly strong.

So, when he got a job offer in a small town near his hometown, he insisted that he take it and that I move there with him. Honestly, my future had looked pretty bleak at that time, so I initially said a resoundingly weak yes. But then uncertainty burrowed deeply in my mind like the pest that it was. I felt painfully restrained and restricted by the idea of perpetual small-town life. And something told me Timothy wasn't going to budge for anything.

When I found out about the job offer at MCI Music Group, I hid it initially. I didn't tell Timothy, even when I flew out for the interview. I knew it would crush him, but suddenly it had become him versus me, even though we were in a relationship together. So I lied—I hated lying, but in that moment, what other option did I have?—and said I was visiting my grandmother to cause fewer problems up front.

He freaked out when I told him I was going to take the job; thankfully he didn't break anything. Timothy totally had the option of moving with me since he’d gotten numerous job offers in both NYC and New Jersey, but he would make zero compromises in the close to home category. And when he gave me an ultimatum—come with me, or we're over—I knew what I had to do for myself and my future.

As much as he wanted to drag me through the mud, I knew I wasn't actually being selfish. My parents applauded my decision, their happiness a combination of their approval of my ambition as well as their mild dislike for Timothy.

Even though I was never comfortable doing anything to hurt him, my mind was made up. He knew where he wanted to be, and I couldn't change that. Timothy went his way, and I had gone mine almost two months ago. To make matters even worse, Timothy and I shared a number of mutual friends—and they had taken his side.

So yeah, I was definitely interested in starting over again in a new place. Part of me didn't like that I was dismissing Timothy so easily, but then again, our negotiations had come to an abrupt stop—his choice, or we were over. It was downright selfish on his end, and it hurt. I let it go, deciding there was no need to get hung up on the total inflexibility of someone else, especially when it was entirely at the expense of my well being.

I also didn't want to let go of those friends, but for now, I'd just have to leave it alone. Timothy was probably feeding them a steady diet of lies and deceit, and I was too far away to do anything serious about it.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Sam remained stressed out about the offer, so I tried to comfort him by drawing attention to the fact that Jack had actually claimed to be interested in MCI. He legitimately had said he was interested—it wasn't just wishful thinking or a dumb platitude. Those promising words were the only positive weapon I had.

However, we still didn't hear anything from Jack for the next two days, which left us with the weekend. Sam was bent out of shape, but what the hell could we do anyway? It was Jack's decision, and that was that. Sam would just have to survive a couple more days, I was sure of that.

Oh, weekend...

***

My Craigslist searches had led me to the lovely neighborhood of Astoria. I found a spare room in a two-bedroom apartment with a guy named Jesse, a finance major at NYU whose long-term goal was investment banking. He was interning with a major banking firm and gone a lot of the time for work-related stuff. As a result, I usually had the apartment to myself, an added perk. Jesse had a girlfriend too, Laura, but she lived in New Jersey and had her own stuff going on during much of the week.

Jesse was usually absent when I got home, but Friday night, he was there, dressed in a fancy, tailored suit. "Hey, Effie!" he shouted as I walked in. I was shocked to see him, even though he lived here.

"Jesse! Wow, don't you look nice!" He usually dressed nice for work, but this was a couple steps above that. "Are you going out with Laura tonight? Something fancy? Ballroom gala?"

A big, mischievous smile broke out across his face. "No, just a dumb investor meeting at the New York Palace." He paused for a second. "Wanna come?"

"You want me to come to the New York Palace with you?" I asked. I was definitely confused.

"The party is at the Madison Room. Free drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Laura can't make it, and I get one guest. I wouldn't want this great opportunity to go to waste." He looked a little desperate, but then again, this was a huge offer.

"Jesse, that's kind of crazy. You want me to hang out with a bunch of bankers at one of the fanciest hotels in the world?" It was a stupid, surreal question to have to ask.

"Yes, actually," he said matter-of-factly. "That's exactly it. You'll have fun. Some of these guys are kind of amusing, even though bankers sound as if they'd be boring. No pressure, though, if you want to skip out."

I stood there for a moment and thought about my plans for the evening, which included nothing. It would be nice to relax, but who knew if I'd ever be invited to another party at the New York Palace? "I don't know if I have anything nice enough to wear."

"Okay, I'll tell you what," he said. "Go take a look in your closet and tell me your decision in fifteen minutes. We'll leave in twenty."

"Twenty?" I said, my voicing oozing exasperation. "That's a little soon!"

Jesse smiled. "If you want to go, you should really hurry up." He turned and walked his well-dressed self back into his room.

My internal debate was intense, but I quickly decided that I should take advantage of his offer. I hadn't really been out much in the city yet—I also knew a night out at the Madison Room would likely spoil me—but a chance like this didn't come around every day.

I had one really nice dress that I had worn to a friend's wedding, a black and blue strapless that I had wanted to wear again but had never found the opportunity. I threw it on a fast as I could, struggling with the zipper in the back. I was relieved to learn that it still fit just as well as it had the day I bought it. Oh, and the coordinating heels I had worn with it happened to be at the front of my closet as well. Convenience!

Somehow I managed to do my eye makeup and apply lip liner and a gentle lipstick in the very few minutes I had. It certainly wasn't perfect, but I looked pretty good. And I had forgotten how good this dress made my cleavage look. Unfortunately—or fortunately, perhaps—guys would probably notice that before they noticed my haphazard, spur-of-the-moment makeup job.

"It's a shame you're not really my date," Jesse said with feigned humility. He burst out laughing after seeing my phony disgusted look. Although I had only lived with him for about a month, he felt like a close friend already.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Maybe I'll hook up with your boss in your bed after the event," I said sarcastically. "Us single gals can get crazy."

"Eh, how about you don't do that. Monday would be pretty awkward. Well, tomorrow morning, too. And tonight."

I continued tidying up my hair. "I'm not really into a*sholes though. So you probably don't have anything to worry about."

Jesse smiled again and then looked at his cell phone. "All right, can we please be on our way, huh? We can keep talking about your very particular tastes on the trip."

I grabbed his half-finished glass of wine from the counter and downed it all at once. "To loosen my nerves," I said meekly. He shrugged as he opened the door and motioned me into the hall and down the stairs.

The city air was warm and inviting. My dress was actually pretty appropriate for the summer weather. There was a cab waiting for us downstairs; a nice surprise, although it would have been amusing to ride the subway dressed as nicely as we were.

After a short trip, we were at 455 Madison Avenue, in front of the historic New York Palace, a hotel I never could have afforded in my wildest dreams. Even this morning, if you had told me I'd be showing up at this place tonight, I would have told you that you were crazy. Yet here I was with my roommate, whom I had randomly found on Craigslist. Quite the lovely coincidence.

Jesse paid the cab driver and then led me inside, checking in with a very unhappy looking man holding a list before we got into the restaurant. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior, and I felt wildly out of place no matter how hard I tried to conform. Still, I could feign some confidence, and here would be the place to do it.

We walked into the restaurant together, immediately greeted by a waiter with champagne. I snatched up a glass and smiled as I took a sip. Oh yeah, this was the good stuff. The bubbles tickled my throat on their way down. Jesse politely declined, probably assuming that he could get better drinks somewhere else. His loss, I guess—or maybe mine.

They had booked the whole restaurant for their party. Some folks were at tables while others stood in social clumps. No reservations available tonight, folks.

There were tons of rich, old men in the room of all shapes and sizes, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. Light piano jazz hummed behind the chorus of voices, the whole ordeal pretty much exactly what I would have expected given the situation. I thought we were some of the youngest people in the room until I noticed the group that Jesse was leading us to. They appeared to be in their mid to late twenties, presumably Jesse's fellow interns.

He introduced me to everyone in sight—explaining that I wasn't his girlfriend Laura grew tiresome fast; the alcohol and free food definitely helped me remain patient—and then he led me to another area, claiming that he needed to say hi to his boss. On the journey, I scored a puff pastry and some smoked salmon and I scarfed them both down before we stopped walking. I couldn't believe how delicious everything was. I made a mental note of the guy with the salmon so I could try to find him when we came back.

By that point, the champagne was kicking in and I was feeling pretty good. "Effie, I want you to meet Tom Benmore. Tom, this is my roommate, Effie."

Tom reached his hand out to me and I awkwardly shook it, trying to do my best to appear professional. He was handsome, probably in his early fifties. Tall, but not gargantuan. "So you're the one that moved in with Jesse, huh? How can you deal with such a slob?"

Jesse immediately piped in, interrupting my possibly awkward response. "My apartment is a lot cleaner than my office, Tom! Jesus, I didn't know you thought so little of me."

They both broke into a hearty laughter, and I just smiled to complement their jovial moment. "So what do you do, Effie?" Tom asked.

"Uh, I'm working in accounts at MCI Music Group."

"MCI? Really?" he asked. "That's a big deal for a gal like you, I'm sure. Living here for such a short time, and you're already at MCI. Great, really great." His enthusiasm seemed genuine, even though I assumed he made more in a second than I did in a week.

"I guess so," I said. "I like it there, at least."

"Sure, that's a lot more than Jesse here can say about our office."

Jesse cocked an eyebrow. "Someday I'm taking over the company, Tom. You watch your back!" I was glad to see that the two of them got along so well. It was fun to listen to their verbal jabs.

"Listen, MCI, you said, right?" Tom had a twinkle in his eyes; something very good or very bad was coming soon, I could tell.

"Yeah." I gulped down more champagne.

"I've got a friend you should meet. One sec." Tom turned around and disappeared into the crowd that so eagerly swallowed him.

"I'm going to try to get a drink from the bar, okay?" Jesse patted me on the shoulder and then walked toward the bar. It was close, so I could still see him as he did his best to catch the attention of one of the bartenders.

Standing there alone, my mind started to wander. The combination of the booze and the commotion brought me back to the same headspace as the subway. Parties were like huge living things themselves, far greater than the sum of the smaller living things that made them up. It was so easy for me to get distracted in huge, loud moments like these.

No matter how anonymous people felt in that crowd, almost everyone longed to be someone at a party, to be the star running the show. Here, it was tough to say who was really in charge since everyone was so well off. It was a surreal realization, but one I was okay with.

And then, like a dream, he was coming toward me. I was tumbling toward the earth, my reverie swept away like a sandcastle during high tide. Jack Teller was walking with Tom, laughing and chatting—and he looked hot as hell, almost too hot. I suddenly felt very sick and turned away as quick as I could, as if that gesture would somehow protect me, shield me from the upcoming interaction. It failed. Miserably. There was an enthusiastic tap on my shoulder.

"Effie! This is Jack Teller, a dear friend of mine. Real famous guy. You owe me for this one!"

"Well, hello, madam," Jack said. "A real pleasure to meet you. Tom says you work for MCI." He took my hand and kissed it. His gesture was almost lethal, like a venomous snakebite. I felt weak under the silent scrutiny of his eyes.

I was stuck. Had he already forgotten me entirely, only a couple days since our first meeting? It hurt, but then I realized we had only been around each other for a short while.

And why did this matter to me anyway? Jack was just some big shot and I was a nobody. There was no reason for him to give a damn. I was nobody special, so he forgot me. Typical famous guy.

Or maybe he was playing a game. I decided to play along for kicks—it was certainly more fun than being miserable—even if I was the only one playing.

"Hi, Jack! So nice to meet you!" My non-champagne-holding hand started trembling so wildly that I had to hide it behind my back. Had I ever spoken to a man before? I thought I knew the answer was yes, but maybe somehow, I was wrong. The butterflies in my stomach definitely sent mixed signals.

"I noticed you from the other corner of the room and knew immediately that I had to find out who the lucky guy was who got to bring you here! Is she your date, Tom? Brought me over to make me jealous?" His posture was impeccable. He gleamed with confidence and it stung.

Tom laughed, his weight shifting from one foot to the other as the joyful sounds escaped him. "Ha, I wish! One of my interns brought her, but I think she's single, Jack!" Tom nudged Jack playfully. My response: Intense blushing. "Wait, do you two already know each other or something? Effie, are you hiding something?"

I couldn't tell if that was real curiosity or pure sarcasm. And why did he suspect only me of hiding something? Rich guys kept no secrets?

This trainwreck kept getting worse and worse. I was so confused already, but I needed to take control as much as I could before there was any more damage. "I'm just... star struck," I mumbled quietly. "He's so great." I sounded as convincing as an excited robot.

"Aww, don't be shy," Jack said. "It would be an honor if you'd come get a drink with me." He glanced at my almost empty glass and smiled. "Another drink, I mean."

"What?" I blurted out. I turned to look at Tom and noticed that Jesse was back and the two of them were already conversing about something intense on their own. I hadn't even noticed Jesse returning, and it had been what, seconds?

He was just talking to me now. The party had suddenly become very small, so small that it felt suffocating. Had more time just passed than I realized? I felt as if I were trapped in a glass jar, the bug that some kid had caught in the backyard. And like those poor insects, I wanted to be set free.

Jack leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. "You're a good actor, you know? C'mon." He wrapped his arm around my back and I went with him, unable to do anything but that. It wasn't that my body froze—it moved on its own. I managed to make awkward eye contact with Jesse as Jack Teller almost literally swept me away to some other part of the room.

A relentless stream of hellos came from every person we passed, all of them apparently good friends of Jack—or maybe just people who wanted to be his friend. While it didn't surprise me at all, it did make me feel very self-conscious. This guy usually courted Hollywood starlets from what I knew, the total opposite of me. My heart pounded uncontrollably in my chest. All I could do was desperately hope that Jack couldn't sense my tension—and I wasn't optimistic.

He took me around a corner to two open stools and motioned for me to sit down. I did. "What would you like?" he asked. His voice was gentle, yet loud enough to be audible over the chatter of the room.

"I don't know, Jack," I said.

"Okay, how about something appropriate then?" He flagged down the bartender. "Two dry Manhattans, please."

I let out an awkward chuckle. It was a silly, stupid joke. Jack smiled at my response, and it made my heart flutter. At least I could hide that. I sat there silently for a moment, my hands placed neatly in my lap.

"It's so nice to see you again, Effie," Jack said. "I wouldn't have expected this at all."

"Why, because I'm not as rich as you are?" I asked, my tone acidic. "Why the facade in front of Tom?"

He looked off into the room, his expression distant and a little cold. "For fun, I guess. You also have quite the effect on me. I don't know what I'm doing sometimes." No eye contact, unless the bar itself had eyes.

"That was nearly humiliating!" I complained.

"Shush. It went fine. That was a great save on your part. Excellent improvisation." He smiled again, and it almost hurt to look at him. The way the light danced against his skin made him even more handsome, his face something of true beauty. A knot formed in my stomach as I tried to digest what was going on. "I'm glad we got to be on stage together."

I started thinking about his rough, unkempt stubble—it looked as if he hadn't shaved since before our meeting—and how I wanted to feel it rubbing against my skin, rubbing against my thighs as he—

I took a deep breath and then started laughing, trying as hard as I could to extinguish the fire in my belly. "Dammit, Jack," I complained. It was as if he knew what was going on in my head. He rubbed my back in light circles, a sensation that felt good in more places than one. More places being my whole body. Heat filled my core and spread until it reached the space between my thighs, the sensation of vulnerability far more tantalizing than it should have been. It baffled me that this could be happening as a result of this guy barely touching me, a guy that I didn't think I even liked.

Shit, I wasn’t fooling anyone. I was really into him, even if he was totally out of my league. But this wasn't like me at all, no way.

The bartender brought us our drinks and Jack handed him a hundred-dollar bill. My jaw dropped, even though it shouldn't have. Everybody in the room had money like that; well, maybe other than Jesse.

I took a sip and was blown away by how good it was. "Jack, this is great!" It was also strong.

"You've never had a Manhattan? This is one of the few places that does 'em the way I like 'em. It's dry vermouth instead of sweet. I don't like sweet drinks."

Something about a drink being dry seemed to fit Jack's personality very well—at least better than sweet. I also didn't know anything about fancy drinks, so I did my best to piece together the information. I listened as if he were giving a sermon, accepting his wisdom like gospel. "You know, I don't really like these events," he said quietly at the end, almost as if I weren’t supposed to hear it.

"Why are you here then?"

"Just maintaining appearances. Some of these guys help me manage my money, so they always extend an invitation, and I feel bad saying no."

I drank quietly and listened to his words, not really sure of what to say. "I didn't really know anything about you," I admitted sheepishly. "Sam made a huge deal out of you, but I didn't—"

"I could tell," he said.

"What?" I suddenly felt bad about what I had just said. Somebody this famous probably was appalled that I didn't know anything about him.

"You threw me off. I'm usually on top of things, but you were like a curve ball. You're not like any girl I've ever met before."

I took a big gulp of my drink, my stomach doing cartwheels again. What was going on here? I had assumed he was such a womanizer, and yet here he was, assaulting me with an authenticity that made me weak in the knees. I wasn't even sure what he meant, but I wasn't about to ask.

A lot of things were running through my mind at once, like a montage in a movie. I thought about Jesse, probably wondering what was going on between the famous guy and me. I thought about work, thought about how much the deal meant to Sam. I thought about myself and the stress that had led me here to New York City. And finally, the bizarre series of events that dumped me next to this rich, gorgeous man I knew so little about.

"You look stunning tonight, Effie," he whispered, his words tickling my ear as his breath touched that delicate skin.

I blushed again, breaking eye contact and not knowing what to say. "Thanks. Aren't you already dating some famous actress or something?" Jack's features tensed up. It actually looked as if I had offended him. "Effie, you're missing the point here. Do you really think I'd be here if that was all I cared about?”

"I don't know," I said defensively. "I don't know anything about that. I barely know anything about you!" I sipped and waited.

"For your information, I am single. I have been since the last Hollywood starlet I dated."

"Stacy Levons?" I asked abruptly.

He started laughing. "You don't know me, but of course you know Stacy."

"I like her," I admitted. "A lot." It was an understatement, but I didn't want to sound crazy.

"She's a great actor, but not great to be in a relationship with. Stacy's awesome, but she's always super busy with projects." He nursed his drink and then continued. "You probably don't believe me, but when you have access to Hollywood people, it's no longer the most exciting thing in the world. They're just like you are, flaws and everything. You stay together for the good press even when you hate the other's guts—well, for as long as you possibly can stand it. Breakups with Hollywood people are never simple."

I did my best to look and be understanding, even though these were like problems from Mars to a simple gal like me.

"What if you were around rich people like this all day and night? The supposed best of the best? Would you give a damn anymore?"

A thought experiment for me, Jack, eh?

"I guess not," I said honestly.

"You probably loved the free food when you walked in. The good drinks. The old, sleazy men that make more in a second than you make per year."

I nodded, following along with his game.

"Okay, so you get my point, then? I'm tired of this, Effie." He made a grand swoop with his arm, effectively writing off the whole party. "I love my work, really I do. But this part drives me nuts. Talented people are talented people, one way or another. Some of these guys are just rich and think that because they're rich, they can call the shots when it comes to art. It's bullshit."

I was quickly understanding his position. He had probably witnessed things that changed his life and perspective forever—and he'd never go back. "That sounds kind of unfair," I said humbly, "to the artists." I felt dumb when it came to this serious stuff.

"If I wanted to make an album that's just nothing but belching from beginning to end, I could get some of these guys to fund it because my word means that much. They wouldn't even check on the progress. They'd write me a blank check and go back on vacation."

I started laughing hysterically. "What about when they hear the final product?"

"Oh, they'd be pissed. But I've made them millions—maybe even billions if you count touring revenue—so I'd get another chance. It's why I'm shopping around from now on. I want my artists to work with labels that give a damn about art, not just money."

This was heavy philosophical stuff, and although I didn't know a lot about music, he sure as hell did. It felt like he was just looking out for those who had less of a voice than he did, sort of like a Robin Hood of the music industry.

A few moments passed by where we both sat silently. He was thinking as hard as I was, but I had no idea where he'd go next.

"Listen," he said. "I don't want to sound too forward or anything but please, Effie, come with me up to my suite. I want to show you something."

My mind immediately thought the worst, and I let out an awkward laugh. "Jack, I just don't know if that's the best idea."

"There's no pressure, okay? It would just mean a lot to me. I seriously just want to show you something. It's not a code word for anything else."

God, I really didn't know what I should do. His intentions weren't clear at all, other than his remarks about it not being a big deal. He kept eyeing me, anxiously awaiting my response. I needed to do or say something, to end this tense moment of trepidation as soon as possible.

"Yeah, okay," I said, hoping that I wouldn't regret my decision later. I finished the rest of my drink and left the glass on the bar, a relic of our conversation.

"Let's go," he said softly. I stood up with him and we slowly walked together until we exited through a side door that led back into the lobby. My legs felt wobbly, so I was glad that our pace was so slow.

The skeptic in me ran through every possible negative outcome while I continued along this strange path with him. My body appeared to be acting independently of my brain, not concerned one bit about the things my brain claimed could go wrong. Jack led me into the elevator.

"Hi, Jack," the elevator attendant said. He reached over and pressed 42 before Jack said a thing.

Jack immediately shook his hand and smiled at him. "Martin, how are you tonight?"

"Just fine," he said with a nod. "And madam, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks," I said, trying to remain as polite as possible. This guy was just doing his job, even if he didn't really care how I was doing. The door closed and then we ascended.

There was silence for the first couple of floors, well, until I broke it. "You guys know each other well?" I asked.

"Jack has a permanent suite," Martin said.

"I like it here. A lot. Just wait until you see the view." Jack put his arm around the small of my back and pulled me close against him. My head fell slightly until it was resting against his chest. It was pure comfort.

The ride was quick. A few short minutes later, the door was opening into the hall and Jack was tipping the attendant. "Thanks, Jack. Have a nice night, you two," he said. Once again, he was just being nice. However, I certainly hadn't planned on that moment being the last time I'd see Martin. I'd just see whatever Jack wanted to show me and then leave.

Upon re-examination, I wasn't so sure I liked what Martin had said. It made me feel a little more like a number than a real girl.

He disappeared behind us as the elevator door closed, and Jack took us into the hall. "Why do you have to tip the elevator guy?" I asked. "We could have run that elevator just fine."

"It's just the way it is," Jack said. "They make a living like anyone else, only theirs is primarily from the tips of rich folks." I didn't have anything to say to that.

After a short walk, we reached Jack's suite. He unlocked and opened the door and led me inside. The lights were out and the room happened to be very dark at that point. Light filled the room as he flipped the switch, the sheer beauty of the suite overwhelming. We were in a living room area that had a huge dining table.

"Do you host a lot of dinners here?" I asked jokingly.

"No, not really." He looked a little perplexed by my question.

"Why don't you get a smaller suite then?" After noticing that there was a whole other, equivalent side to the room around the corner, my mind was blown even further.

"They gave me a deal. Helps with business, I guess. They list me as a customer in some of the promotional materials."

"Oh, so you're a sellout then?" I gave him a sardonic grin.

"Whatever you want to call it is just fine. But hey, I'm happy with what I do, one way or another." He fiddled with the thermostat slightly and then led me toward the corner of the room. I was suddenly worried that I had offended him or something and not entirely sure why I should care so much.

"So what did you want to show me?" I tried to sound as excited as possible to drown out the fact that my previous question may have been misinterpreted. He immediately perked up.

"Are you ready?" He stood at the window, his hand on the lever to open the curtains.

"Okay." I stood there with my hands at my sides, just waiting for whatever. It didn't look as if he were going to drop his pants—well, unless rich folks had levers that would do it for them. I wasn't sure.

Jack pulled the curtains open, revealing an incredible view of the New York cityscape. "Come closer," he said.

I stepped near the window and caught my breath. "This is incredible, Jack."

"I'm still impressed even though I'm here a lot. Home away from home, I guess." He pointed toward the closest, biggest thing in view. "That's St. Patrick's Cathedral."

The architecture was so classic and unique, so Gothic. It looked kind of like the centerpiece in a horror movie or something in a Stephen King novel. "That doesn't give you nightmares, does it?"

He let out a small chuckle. "No. I live here with it. We've got to get along, you know."

It honestly looked like a painting, the giant, sprawling buildings dotted with random little splotches of light. This was a view I was not used to, one that would have been difficult for me to obtain with my limited finances. It blew my mind that this lifestyle could exist, that all of this beauty was within reach only when huge sums of money were involved. Honestly, it was both disheartening and exhilarating.

"Effie?" Jack's eyes met mine with utter intensity.

"Huh?" I ended my gawking over the incredible view and turned to face him. Seeing it had softened me up, that was for sure.

"You're absolutely beautiful." He kept his eyes trained on me, studying my face as if he were hypnotized.

My brain was overloaded with thought and emotion. Sensory overload. In a way, it felt as if I had walked right into a trap. So many things were questionable about being here with Jack, but all sense had just fled from my brain, running away and hiding somewhere else. My body wanted something else entirely—and it was in this gorgeous room, right next to me.

"Jack, I—" My heart had skipped so many beats that I didn't know what was going on anymore and feared that I might have died. I watched him approach me in slow motion, as if I were just a witness, not a participant. And then he pressed me against the wall, meeting my lips with a scorching kiss. Waves of pleasure rippled through me, instantly causing goose bumps on my skin. His tongue explored every interior surface of my mouth while his hands caressed my neck and gently traversed through the strands of my hair.

My back to the wall, I felt his hardness pressing against my thigh, his uncontrolled lust fully represented by that single part of his body. Oh God, he wanted me—and I wanted him.

Who was this guy? Who was I? The questions flickered and then went out like a dying light bulb. Who cared? I kissed him back as powerfully as he had kissed me, my decision to proceed so clear now. Oh yes, I wanted this. It felt so freeing after all that had led me to NYC. I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him close.

Jack's hand lowered along my neck until he brushed my bare shoulder. He lightly cupped my breast, but something told me he wasn't about to stay there for long. Every touch was amplified, my lips kissing back in the exact way that he kissed me. Our tongues continued to twine and taste in a beautiful back and forth cadence.

By that point, I was so wet, so obviously aroused that there was no way I could hide it. The need kept growing inside of me as I felt his fingers creeping down my side. I knew exactly where they were headed. Bright white heat flowed freely from my core to every other part of my body as dirty images filled my mind.

Jack's hand hiked up my dress slightly, his fingers hungrily digging into the soft flesh of my thighs as he approached the elastic of my panties. He was exploring the soft curls of my mound, slowly moving toward that throbbing nub that was begging for his touch. His hardness seemed to grow as he found it.

"God, your legs." He pulled my panties down until they were bunched at my knees, his efforts quick and focused.

"Jack," I gasped, my voice a desperate whisper as I broke our kiss. I had no air left, my lungs fully deflated of that crucial substance and begging for more. His finger stroked my * in tiny, minute circles that made me shiver with delight. My legs tightened around his hand as I dissolved against him. I had never been so sensitive to a man's touch before—either that, or Jack was really damn good at this. Maybe both were true.

"Sweet, sweet, Effie," Jack whispered into my ear. I wanted to touch him, but I was so lost in bliss that I couldn't keep things straight in my mind. I wanted to stroke that stiff cock of his, to touch him like he was touching me. In a way though, he just wasn't letting it happen.

I felt the pressure change from his index finger to his thumb as he parted my moist folds with two fingers, stretching me to his liking. He started to slowly finger-f*ck me, purposely starting slow so that I had to savor it and drown in the sweet torture of waiting. His fingers pressed against my g-spot with so much precision I couldn't believe it. I knew his hand was probably drowning in my juices by this point, and the thought only made me wetter.

My eyes were closed, and despite my incredible desire to watch his face as he did this to me, I couldn't open them. I was against the wall, stuck there as he did whatever he wished in that dreamlike moment.

Tiny cries of pleasure escaped from me as he started to push me toward a climax that was so apparent, so close. He was breathing almost as deeply as I was, his mouth right next to my ear, forcing me to listen.

Jack kept circling and f*cking me with his adroit fingers, my body trembling with delight. I was inching closer and closer, the process so expedited by his skill. Oh God, I needed this, needed it so badly. It felt as if it had been so long and honestly, it made me realize how sexually deprived I was. And then Jack stopped and I almost screamed.

"Please," I begged, my body at an enormous tipping point. This was such a private thing to be doing with him, but dammit, I just didn't care. My mind was on vacation—and now my body was in charge.

"Effie," he said. "Be assertive. Tell me what you want."

"Jack, no games," I whined, dodging the words he wanted me to say.

He resumed his motion for a few quick strokes and I felt everything rushing back—until he was teasing me again.

"Jack!" My cheeks were flushed red and my body wouldn't shut up. I couldn't believe I was doing this with him, couldn't believe how far I had lowered my defenses in this carnal moment.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me what you want." I complied and opened my eyes. He was there, so beautiful and perfect, demanding my eye contact. "Tell me," he said again.

"I want..." I wasn't used to talking like this and trailed off. This was so dirty, so salacious.

"What do you want, Effie?" Jack's inquisition was tireless, but in the best possible way.

"I want to..." Could I actually talk like this?

"You want to come?" he added.

"Yes!" I said, my voice so desperate. He couldn't stop now, no way. He had to keep going...

"Say it!"

"I want to come!" Those words I meant more than anything I had ever said prior to that in my life. Jack delivered.

His hand sprang to life, pushing me right off a cliff. My back hit the wall hard, my p-ssy twitching rapidly around his fingers. He kept right against my g-spot, pulling with that come hither motion that made me so weak in the knees.

"God, you're so f*cking hot." I heard his words, but could barely perceive them.

I cried out again and again into his shoulder, his erection still just an innocent bystander. My toes curled in my heels and my nipples became rock hard. I just couldn't get enough air no matter how hard I tried. Jack led me up and down, over and over again until I was totally spent, his hand soaked with my cream.

The craziest thing about it all was the way he stopped right with me. Most guys would keep going until I physically pulled their hands away—but not Jack. He stopped right with me, right when the over-sensitivity kicked in and eased his hand away from my body.

My breaths came quickly as I continued to stand there against the wall, trying my damndest to re-collect myself. I opened my eyes to see him slowly tasting his fingers. "You're so sweet, Effie. I love it when you come."

So f*cking dirty...

I had nothing to say—I was totally blown away. But not for long. Freeing from bliss, my mind returned to the usual suspects—my job, my future, this nearly random guy—and I suddenly felt ashamed. He was hot and famous and I had been caught under his spell. I didn't do this. It just wasn't me, even though it had felt incredible.

"Let's go to the bedroom, Effie."

As much as I wanted to return the favor, I couldn't do it. My mind was scolding me like an angry parent. "Jack, I'm... so sorry. I have to go." I bent down and pulled my panties back into place.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"This isn't like me." I turned my head and stared out at the city again, worried that if I made eye contact with him again, I'd be totally trapped. I couldn't help but feel as if I were just another number in his endless conquest of women. He had probably never been rejected in his life—and I had ensured that his perfect victory streak continued.

"It's not like that," Jack said. "I like you, Effie. I like you a lot."

"I'm sorry, Jack. I have to go." I immediately walked toward the door while he trailed behind me and stood there like a sad puppy.

"Are you sure, Effie?"

"I had a really nice time tonight. Thanks again." I opened the door, and standing there—she actually just about to knock—was a statuesque blonde, clad in a dress not unlike mine. She appeared to be a model, her dress almost as revealing and low-cut as mine. Her breasts also overflowed from the top. I couldn't help but notice, even though that was the last thing I needed in that moment.

"Who the hell are you?" she said with piercing aggression.

I stared back at Jack disapprovingly. There was a look of horror on his face. "Who the hell are you?" I snarled. No, I didn't even care about an explanation. I pushed past the girl and made my way down the hall. Jack began angrily whispering to her as I got further and further away from his room and the madness contained there.

"Effie, it's not what you think it is!"

"You're a cliché," I shouted back. "Did someone write that for you?"

I half-expected him to come running after me, but he didn't. I got to the elevator—Martin seemed surprised to see me so soon.