Lust (3 page)

How long have I been in here? Shit, I must have been daydreaming.

Adjusting the water a bit to get whatever warmth was left,
I washed my hair and rushed out of the shower. Running back
into the bedroom to see the time, I was pissed to see the DVR

read 7:00 a.m. “Shit, I was in there for over an hour. Now I have
to rush, damn it.”

I live in Long Island, so getting to Manhattan is a trip. I
never drive in, as that would take half a day, so, I ride the train
from Long Beach to Manhattan and then take a cab from Penn
Station to Park Avenue where I work. The train rides are relaxing
and useful on days where I’m not already half falling apart.

Instead of bombarding my thoughts with the penalties of being
late, I was going to revel in a moment of peacefulness.

Normally the laptop would be fired up and I’d have started
working on e-mails and tasks for the day. Today, I needed to
regroup as I stared out the train window at absolutely nothing,
and the calmness began to sink in.

And, after only a few minutes, the moment of peace was
rudely interrupted by my iPhone ringing. Ring, ring, ring, ring,
ring. Knowing who it would be, I slid the power bar on the bottom
of the phone and just put the annoyance to my ear.

“Explain to me why you always happen to call me at this
time, particularly on the mornings that I don’t want to talk to
anyone?” The words rolled off my tongue with a giggle; I was
actually happy to hear from my best friend and assistant at any
time of the day or night.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Samantha is always cheerful,
no matter how the day begins or ends. I envy her sometimes;
her carefree ways and willingness to go where life takes her are
like a fresh breath of air. But, that characteristic is not something
easily learned and the lucky few, who are born with it,
like Samantha, are to be envied.

“Why are you always so damn cheerful? God, I hate you on
mornings like this,” I said, but again with a giggle in my tone and
never nasty. I can’t be nasty to Samantha. Samantha is the angel I
need to turn my mood when I can’t stand the world or anyone in it.

Samantha became my best friend seven years ago when I
started my job as an intern at Prime House Investments. PHI is
one of the largest mergers and acquisitions firm in Manhattan,
and all through school I had hoped to have an opportunity to get
into the firm. I met Samantha by chance one morning in April, a
month before I was due to graduate from NYU business school.

I walked down to Park Avenue and was determined to somehow
get a job at PHI. Standing on the cement sidewalk outside of
the breath-taking glass skyscraper, all I could ponder was being
in a corner office on the top floor, with an executive title.

Daydreaming, I heard a voice, but it wasn’t my own or in
my head, “Intimidating, isn’t it?”

I turned, a bit startled, and found a young blonde girl
standing next to me, smiling like she had just won the lottery.

“Ah, well, intimidating no, daunting…yes! I’m just trying to
figure out how to scale this building,” I said with determination
in my voice.

“You don’t mean literally, do you? I’m not going to see you
hanging from the outside of my window anytime soon am I?

’Cause I think that would freak me out, but at least I’d know
it was you.”

We laughed together as if we had previously met and
were now just catching up. “No, no worries. I’m not suicidal.

I’m just hopeful and determined to launch my career
in one of the companies in that building.”

Samantha excitedly jumped in, “Oh, which one? Maybe I
know someone who could help. I’ve only been here for a few
years, but I’ve come to know almost everyone in the building.”

With a feeling of awe and excitement, I stared at the girl for
a moment as if I was seeing an angel. Her skin was as pale and
glowing, and her blue eyes were mirrors of hope.

“I…I’m sorry. I’m so rude. My name is Eva Chase, and you
are?” Extending my hand to the girl, I smiled with delight.

“Samantha Carlo. It’s nice to meet you, Eva. Are you from
around here?” she asked.

“Well, I go to school at NYU; I’m just finishing up my
masters in finance. I actually graduate this May, so I was hoping
to start disseminating my resume to companies that have
caught my interest. So, here I am, after all these years of school,
and I can’t even get myself to walk into the building.” I recall
lowering my eyes to the ground, almost feeling embarrassed
that I was openly admitting my weakness to a complete stranger,
on a sidewalk, in the middle of Manhattan.

“Eva, you have nothing to fear. I have great people radar,
and you, my new friend, seem like a great person. Now, if
you will be so kind as to tell me which company you are interested
in, I will gear up my wit and see who I can get you
to see.”

There was that sunshine smile again, only this time it was
also full of a sincere feeling of kindness and caring. Are there
actually people like this in the world, especially in Manhattan, who
can care and give to complete strangers? My mind raced to wrap
itself around this thought, and then I just let myself trust this
newly found angel and friend. “Actually, I don’t know what
floor they are on, but I was going to go into PHI to—”

Samantha stopped me abruptly. “Shut up! Are you serious?

That’s where I work. Yea! Oh my God. OK, I have to get you a
job because I can totally see us working together.”

In a nutshell, that was the beginning of a true friendship
and my career. I spent the next seven years working all hours of
the day and night, offering myself up for projects for everyone
and anyone in the company. The first five years were tough. I
was heavily involved in projects for my superiors but never got
credit for them.

A few years later, my time came: I was promoted to director
of operations and new business. Samantha and I were so elated;
we drank our asses off the entire weekend, like it was the celebration
to the beginning of the rest of our lives. It was a rough
hangover to deal with, but I was exactly where I wanted to be.

“Hello? Is anybody there? Are you passed out? Drunk?

Dying?”

Samantha’s questions were followed by my laughter and reassurance
that I was half alive. “Yes, yes, I’m here. Sorry, I’m
neither here nor there today. What’s going on? Are you on your
way to work?”

Samantha spoke swiftly, like she was walking fast or running.

“I was running late, and the traffic is horrific this morning,
so I’m about to step into the train and—here I am!”

I yelped, spinning around to find Samantha standing beside
my seat on the train. “Are you out of your mind? You are going
to drive me to drink, I swear.”

Samantha sat in the available seat next to me, and I had to
lean over and hug her tightly, hoping some of Samantha’s good
spirit would rub off. “I’m not going to drive you to drink; we
always either walk or take cabs to the bars! Come on, laugh a
little. What’s doin’, girl? Why so gloomy? I take it last night
with Derek wasn’t what you planned?”

My eyebrows rose with confusion at Samantha’s assumptions
of my evening past. “What I planned? Did I have a plan?”

Giggling, Samantha stroked my hand, “Remember? As
Derek was knocking on your door last night, and I was on the
phone, the last thing you said to me was, and I quote, ‘Sorry,
babe, gotta go get fucked big time. Ciao!” And then you hung
up on me, which, I must say, was rather rude of you. But since
you were going to go get laid, which you so desperately need,
I’ve decided to let it slide just this one time. So, what happened?

Did you fight about something? I haven’t seen you like
this in a long time. And if you were upset, why didn’t you call
me last night or this morning or—”

I had to put my hand to Samantha’s mouth to quiet her.

“Sam, take it easy. It’s barely morning, and here you are. Calm
down. So, anyway, before you start rambling again, I might as
well give you a play-by-play, because I know you won’t quit it
until I do.” I only called Samantha “Sam” when she annoyed
me or pissed me off. Nudging myself a bit closer to Samantha,
I had no desire to let half of working Manhattan in on a morning
story of all my woes. Taking a deep breath, I contemplated
where to start, thinking about where it went wrong.

“Eva, stop trying to put your words and sentences together
like you are about to give an opening statement to a jury. It’s
me. Just get it off your chest. Do we have to go through this
every time? I know and you know that you trust me, so all you
are doing is wasting time and energy. Now let’s have it. What
happened?”

“I’m sorry. I know, and I’m not trying to put my sentences
together, smart ass. I just don’t know where to start.”

Samantha giggled at my resistance, nudging my elbow.

“The beginning is always a good place,” Samantha interjected
with a sweet but sarcastic grin. “So, OK, so,” rolling her eyes
at me, she sighed. “This is going to be a long day. Would you
fucking spit it out already, or else I’m going to sit with that
bald dude with the bad suit over there.”

I glanced over and chuckled at the fellow rider and then
started up again. “So Derek came by, as you know, around ten.

He brought my favorite sushi and a bottle of moscato, so right
off the bat I had no doubt that the agenda tonight would be:
hot screwing and panting and major soreness in the morning.

We ate, sat in front of the fireplace—the whole bit. So, after
small talk and bull-shitting for two hours, I excused myself and
got ready. You know me, when I’m horny, I don’t play. I washed
up, put on some subtle but sexy makeup, and then whipped out
an outfit. I figured it was time.”

Samantha’s eyes grew wider with excitement, “Shit, you put
on an outfit? Damn, you were looking to get seriously fucked,
weren’t you?”

Sighing at the thought, I continued, “Yeah, well, please
let me continue. Don’t smile just yet. So, I put on the red
lace lingerie that we got at VS last time—you know, the
one that’s about thigh length, skin tight, and completely
see-through?”

Samantha nodded and waited with wide eyes to hear what
happened next, as if she were waiting for the plot of the story
to get good.

“So, I put that on with nothing underneath, pulled my hair
down, and fluffed it a bit. I looked damn hot, if I do say so
myself. I shut off the lights in the bathroom before I walked
out, and the only lights on downstairs were the glow from the
fireplace, so the scene was set, and I was ready to go. I get
downstairs and he’s on the couch, remote in hand, and his eyes
are glued to the TV.”

Samantha’s body moved back stiffly. “OK. Is that a crime?

I know you’ve had sex with the TV on before. What’s the problem?

You sound shocked, like the guy dared to watch TV.”

Samantha made an “are you kidding me” face and stared.

“Really? How would you feel if I told you that he was
watching Thelma and Louise? And his expression was puppydog
sad!”

Now Samantha was on the same page, spouting out loudly,
“Bullshit. You’re lying. No way. Are you serious? Please God,
don’t tell me he cried!”

I continued, “Oh, you’re with me now. OK, good. So like I
was saying, yeah, he was watching Thelma and fucking Louise
and all puppy-dog faced about it. I almost lost it. I didn’t know
whether to fake an aneurism or truly kill myself, but I sucked
it up. Focusing on the end goal of getting laid, I ‘whoosah’d,’