Initiating Amy Read online

  “Why do you ask that?” Amy was stalling for time.

  “Because you wore lingerie to work. So either he works at the hotel, or you’re seeing him tonight after work and you don’t have time to go home and change. Unless you’re having a nooner.”

  Amy was shocked. “A nooner? Really? Besides, it’s noon now, and I’m here with you, so that would rule that out.” Amy hesitated before continuing, “How do you know these things anyway?”

  Miranda smiled. “I just do. So what time are you meeting him at?”

  “Meeting who?” Amy was stalling.

  “Lance,” said an amused Miranda. “What time are you meeting Lance at?”

  “After work.” Amy paused, a thought dawning on her. “Hey. Did you set this up?”

  Miranda laughed. “I told you I wanted no part of this, although I may have mentioned it to Tony. He knows more people than I do. Safe people.”

  “Like Lance. Lance is safe?”

  “Lance is safe,” replied Miranda.

  “So you’re fine with this? With Lance?”

  “I never said that.” Miranda swung around again, looking back at her friend. “You’re fresh out of a marriage and you want to jump into a relationship like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know what. You know what Lance is about, and what being involved with him means.”

  “I don’t know what Lance is about. I don’t even know Lance that well. What’s he about? You seem to know. Tell me.”

  Miranda hesitated, debating whether or not to carry on. She decided to. “The reason Tony hired him at the Dominion in the first place was because he knew him.”

  “He knew him?”

  “Yes, he knew him. Lance was a guest of the hotel a few times, before he worked there, before Tony recruited him.”

  “A guest?”

  “Not just a guest, a guest of the Penthouse Suites. That kind of guest.”

  Amy sat silently in the back seat, letting all this sink in, beginning to understand what Miranda was saying. She whispered, “A Dom? He’s a Dom?”

  “He’s a Dom,” Miranda paused. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Amy grew excited. “I do. I really do.”

  “I don’t think you know what you want.”

  “Then why did you suggest it to Tony then?”

  “Because I know you, and I know that you were going to do it anyway. This way, at least I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Aw, you do care.” Amy put her hand on Miranda’s arm. Miranda quickly pulled it away, swinging around to face forward.

  “Don’t get carried away. Like I said, I don’t think you know what you are getting yourself into.”

  “Either way, I want to find out for myself.” Amy paused, excitement running through her. “Tonight. I’m seeing Lance tonight.”

  “Thought so,” replied Miranda.

  “It’s a work thing. For the ball. Probably nothing is going to happen anyway.”

  “That’s why you wore your sexy underwear. For nothing.”

  “A girl has to be prepared.”

  “It takes more than sexy underwear to be prepared for a man like Lance.”

  Amy’s mind was racing, trying to process everything Miranda just told her. “Any words of advice?”

  “Just do as he says,” replied Miranda, “and you’ll be fine. Don’t obey, and you still may be fine, depending on what you want.”

  “I don’t know what I want.” Despite everything Amy said to the contrary, deep down she really didn’t know what she wanted. This was the first time she admitted it out loud, to herself or anyone else.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along. Figure out what you want first, then go find it. You shouldn’t rush blindly into this if it’s what you want. Go find some nice young man who has a mommy complex. Buy him dinner, buy him something nice, and then let him fuck your brains out and then don’t call him ever again.”

  “I couldn’t do that. Have you done that?”

  “Trust me, it’s easier, and safer.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I don’t want meaningless sex. I want something that has substance, that means something. And I want him to call me in the morning, or better, wake up next to him.”

  “You need to be careful.”

  “I’ve been careful all my life. Frank was the careful choice and look how that worked out.”

  “That’s not really a good comparison,” replied Miranda.

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” There was a definiteness to Amy’s voice “I’m seeing Lance tonight. Besides, I doubt anything’s going to happen anyway.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw him in the lobby this morning. He didn’t give me a second look.”

  “He’s at work,” replied Miranda, “he’s not going to do anything at work.”

  “Not even a little flirting.”

  “Probably not. He’s too much of a professional.”

  Amy sank deep into the plush leather seats of Miranda’s car. “You’re probably right.” She looked out the window and smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She looked back at Miranda.

  “Just follow his lead and you’ll be fine.”

  “Good advice.”

  Miranda looked at her watch. “Now get out. I’ve got an airport run to do.”

  Eve entered the sitting room to find her aunt seated at an ornate carved maple desk set in front of the window. She stood a moment, watching as Evelyn sifted through old photographs, holding them one by one, giving them a long look before placing each in a pile. There were two piles of photos on the desk, one on each side of Evelyn. The right-side pile was much smaller than the left-side one. The photos in the smaller pile, before being placed there, seemed to merit a longer look than the ones placed on the left.

  A few minutes passed before Eve felt she was intruding on a private moment, and she grew uneasy. She cleared her throat and stepped forward, making her presence known. Evelyn looked over her shoulder at Eve, still holding a photo in her fingers. Evelyn smiled, and in that smile, Eve sensed for the first time that her aunt was tired, showing her age. Eve smiled back, moving over to stand beside Evelyn at the desk.

  Looking down, Eve saw the pictures Evelyn was sorting through were old pictures of past Lover’s Balls. Several were black and white, and all manner of hair styles and clothing were on display. What her aunt had before her was the history of the ball in pictures. Eve placed a hand on the back of the chair her aunt sat on, looking down at the black and white photo she held in her fingers. It looked like it was from the fifties.

  Keeping her eyes focused on the image, Evelyn said, “I was thinking of putting together a book of photos of the ball over the years. We can give it to everyone who attends. A sort of memento, commemorating the fiftieth anniversary. Too late for this year, but maybe next.”

  “What a wonderful idea.” Eve reached for a colored picture, pulling it by the corner from out under a pile of photos on Evelyn’s left. “Wow,” she said. “People actually dressed like that?”

  Evelyn chuckled. “It was the seventies my dear. The decade where fashion went to die.” Eve laughed. “Now you know why it’s on the discard pile.”

  Eve reached over to the pile on the right, sliding a photo from the bottom. She gasped. “Is that you?”

  Evelyn bent her head to look. A half smile cracked the left side of her cheek. She looked up into Eve’s face, and her smile broadened. Her eyes grew moist. “It is.”

  The picture was of a young, radiant, happy Evelyn dancing in the middle of the ballroom floor, held in the arms of an equally dashing young man. A candid moment caught in time. Evelyn’s face rested in his chest, looking blissfully content.

  “When was this taken?”

  “The sixties. My first ball.”

  “C’mon Aunt Ev,” Eve said with impatience in her voice. “More, I need more. Who are you dancing with?”

  Evelyn reached up and took the photo from
Eve, holding it gently in her fingers. She spoke, all the while looking down at the photo.

  “William Lawrence.” Evelyn paused, looking at the photo in silence. Eve stood by, giving Evelyn a moment. Evelyn handed the photo back to Eve, sliding her chair back and getting up. She moved over to stand beside the window, looking out. Eve remained by the desk.

  “William was so charming. I didn’t know him before that night. It was as if we were meant to meet, to be together. If it wasn’t there, then it would have been somewhere else, anywhere else. It wouldn’t have mattered where or when, we would have met.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak about him before.”

  “There isn’t a lot to say. We met at the ball that night. He made me feel pretty, special, wanted.” Evelyn stopped. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to Eve, “it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about an old lady’s first love.”

  “First love? Of course I do. Tell me more.”

  “There’s no more tell. We danced, I fell in love, then he was gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone. We snuck away to be alone and I must have fallen asleep. When I woke, he was gone.”

  “You never saw him again?”

  “No. He didn’t have my number, and I never got his.” Evelyn came back to sit at the desk, absently sifting through the photos again. “I went to the ball the next year, thinking I would see him again on the dance floor. You know, like it was meant to be.” She smiled to herself this time. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to kiss him or slap him when I saw him.”

  “Which was it?” Eve had pulled up a chair and was now seated beside her aunt.

  “Neither. I never saw him again. Maybe we were only meant to have that moment.” Evelyn put the photo of her and William in between the two other piles, in the middle of the desk. A pile of its own. “One more ball for me, one last time. One last spin around the room. After that, it’s yours.”

  Eve was perplexed. “What’s mine?”

  “The Lover’s Ball, and everything to do with it. I’m turning it over to you. I won’t be around next year to run it.”

  “But I don’t know the first thing about putting on a ball.”

  “It’s not that difficult really. It pretty much runs itself. That’s why I asked you to come this year. Besides, Tony is staying on. He’ll help you, just like he’s helped me all these years.”

  “I don’t know,” said Eve.

  “Yes you do, my dear,” replied Evelyn, lowering her head, shifting photos from one pile to the next, lost in images of the past.

  Eve rose from her chair, moving around behind her aunt from her right side to her left. Eve reached down and picked up the black and white photo of Evelyn and William on the dance floor. She slid the photo into the pocket of her jacket, moving out of the room, leaving her aunt to her memories.

  Amy stood by the front desk in the lobby. She nervously checked her watch; five-fifteen. He said he would meet her at five-fifteen. The moment she raised her eyes from her watch she saw Lance striding across the lobby towards her. She noticed the length of his strides. They were wide and fast. Lance moved quickly towards her. Before she knew it, before she had time to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, he was right in front of her.

  She began to reach in to adjust her bra strap, but half way through, she thought better of it, and stopped. Instead, nervous, she stretched out her hand to shake his.

  Lance smiled. With a quick sideways nod of his head and a look at her extended hand, he said, “Okay.”

  He reached out and shook her hand. After what seemed like an eternity to Amy, the handshake stopped. Rather than releasing her hand, Lance held on, gently squeezing it, pulling her in closer to him. She took a small step towards him, then another. After the third step she was so close to him she could smell his cologne; woodsy, musky, sexy.

  Amy lowered her eyes, feeling self-conscious standing so close to him.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  “What?” she replied, looking up into his eyes. They were brown, almost black. His eye lashes were long, curled upward. She looked down again, lowering her gaze to his lips, trying to get away from those eyes that were holding her captive. Looking at his lips didn’t help. They were pouty, begging to be kissed. She didn’t realize how tall he was. Standing so close to him now drove that home.

  She realized her hand was still in his. She slid it out and dropped it to her side. She took a step back and looked up at him again.

  “Yes,” she recovered. “Let’s. Where do you want to go?”

  “I was thinking we could go to my place.”

  Amy hesitated before saying with caution, “We could do that.” She paused again, unsure if she was ready to go to his place. “Or we can work here, at the hotel, in my office.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, personal affairs in the office.”

  “It’s not quite personal,” she replied. “The ball is a work thing.”

  “Not really.”

  Lance turned on his heels, heading for the front door. He didn’t wait for Amy before starting to walk, and he didn’t look back to see if she was with him. He just kept on walking.

  Amy tried to decide what to do. Should she go, should she stay? And what’s with him walking off like that? That’s a little rude. Then Miranda’s words popped into her head. ‘Just do as he asks.’ So she did, scurrying up beside him, sliding into step on his right side. Lance gave her a sideways glance and kept walking, Amy doing her best to keep up with his long strides, skipping every other step to do so.

  With Amy scurrying alongside him, Lance made his way out of the building and over to the employee parking lot. He pulled his car key out of his jacket pocket and clicked it several paces away from his car. A short distance away Amy heard the beep of a car alarm. She saw the flashing break lights of a black BMW and knew it was his.

  “Nice car,” she said, “I didn’t know security paid so well.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said. “I pick up a few jobs on the side. I’ve got one client who’s a little paranoid. A while ago he thought someone was trying to kidnap his dog. He had me follow his dog walker to see what was going on. That went on for a couple of weeks, twice a day.”

  “That’s not paranoid, that’s just nuts.”

  “Nuts or not, he pays well. He sent me to London once to spy on his wife while she vacationed without him.”

  “Maybe he had good reason to suspect her.”

  “They had been divorced for three years at the time.”

  “Oh. What did you do?”

  “I went. Told him there was nothing for his to worry about. I mean, she did have another lover, but it wasn’t anything he should worry about. They were divorced.” Lance moved around to the driver’s side. “Get in.”

  Amy slid in and buckled up. “Do you live far?”

  “No, a few minutes away actually.” Lance put the key in the ignition and they drove off. “I feel a little guilty driving such a short distance but with my side clients, I sometimes have to be somewhere in a hurry and I can’t risk the delay.”

  “Doesn’t that get in the way of your job at the hotel.”

  “No,” Lance was steering effortless through the city traffic. “My clients know I have a full-time gig. It’s amazing how they manage to work their crises around nine to five.”

  When Lance said a few minutes, he meant it. They had travelled only a few blocks before he turned down the ramp to an underground parking lot. Amy looked out the side window, back the way they came. She could see the hotel in the distance. A circular ramp led them to parking level three stories down. Lance pulled into a parking spot next to the elevator and shut the car off.

  The elevator took them to the twenty-first floor. There were only two doors in the hallway. Lance moved to suite 2101. He opened the door and strode in, leaving Amy to follow behind.

  When she stepped into the condo, Amy could tell that Lance’s lifestyle was a little more luxuri
ous than she first thought. She walked across a hardwood floor entrance that led on to a room that was larger than her whole apartment. The far wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, with an expansive view of the city. To the left was an open kitchen with an island in the middle, leather stools placed around one side of it. To the right was the living room, furnished with very opulent, very masculine leather furniture. A big-screen television was suspended in midair, the focal point of the room.

  “Make yourself at home,” Lance said as he went about doing just that, taking off his jacket and throwing it over a chair, continuing on to the kitchen. Amy remained in the entranceway, not sure where to go. Should she follow Lance into the kitchen, move into the living room—it was so far away from where he was. She wasn’t even sure if she should take her shoes off or not.

  Lance held two wine glasses, setting them on the island counter. Amy decided to go over and join him in the kitchen. As he poured the wine, she slid onto one of the stools.

  “I hope you like white.” Lance didn’t wait for her to reply.

  “White is fine.” Amy felt a need to answer anyway.

  When she did, he looked up from what he was doing and smiled. “Good.” Lance came around to sit beside Amy on the stool next to her. He tilted his glass towards her. “Cheers.”

  Amy clinked her glass with his. “To a successful Lover’s Ball.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lance shot up from his seat, putting his glass on the counter, moving into the living room. He grabbed his laptop and returned. He opened it up and turned it on. Watching the computer as it booted up, he said, “I’ve done a little pre-work for us. I’ve gone through the list and sorted it by those who have attended annually and those who have come only a few times over the years. See.” He was pointing the screen.

  Amy leaned over and looked at Lance’s work. The list of annual attendees was much shorter than the other. Amy commented on this.

  “I was surprised to see that too. I figured we could focus on the annual attendees first. They should be an easier sell.”

  “I agree,” Amy said.

  “That way, once we’re through, we’ll have a better sense of how many more tickets we need to sell.”