Going back home to her outer borough apartment swiftly reminded Elly what she wasn’t, and what she was: a broke food server, married to her community college boyfriend who’d only accrued a mountain of debt after he’d meandered through two years of pointless classes. Together they were living the near-poverty line dream, with thankfully no children yet because Elly had insisted on getting an IUD right before they’d gotten married.
Tony was home as usual for a Sunday, the TV loudly blaring a football game as he slouched back into the couch, his eyes barely open. Elly quickly bypassed him and went into the kitchen, but was too slow. He sauntered into the kitchen as she was trying to refill their filtered water pitcher, slinging an arm around her waist.
“Hey babe,” he hushed into her face, his breath rank with beer.
“Hey,” she replied, trying to move away.
“Why you look so fancy today?” he asked in his heavy Bronx slur.
“I had that funeral, remember? The one for my friend from group.”
“Oh yeah, the ladies group,” he giggled childishly.
Elly could feel her pulse rise, in no mood to pander to his immature brain. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
“Ooh that sounds like something you need help with,” he said, oozing zero charm.
Elly really hated how horny he’d get when he was drunk, only to have the world’s longest lasting semi-hard erection. But she knew if she got it over with now, she could avoid having intercourse during the week when she was further exhausted and in an even worse mood.
“Sure,” she replied abruptly, setting down her water glass, and gesturing to him to follow her back into the bedroom.
Tony stumbled after her, already undoing his belt buckle. Elly quickly tugged down her rayon skirt and undid her clearance sale Ralph Lauren button-down shirt, not wanting to be pawed at awkwardly by Tony and have him ruin either of her precious few items of dressy clothing, or hear his semi-offensive comments about her body.
Down to her bra and panties she climbed into bed, while he was still shucking down his jeans.
“You must want it real bad,” he chuckled, not seeing the bored look on her face.
“Oh yeah,” she lied.
Finally naked, he flopped down into bed, his dick looking more lifeless than usual. Elly leaned down to take a whiff of him, while he clumsily put an arm around her neck to kiss her. Smelling the skunky stench of weed, she pecked his lips coldly. Now she knew why he was so limp; drunk and high. Which also meant only one position would work, forcing Elly to see his face unfortunately. Tony leered at her while she climbed on top of him, straddling his limpness and trying to stimulate him by rubbing herself across him. She’d kept her panties on, not sure he’d even notice in the state he was in.
“Ah you’re so fricking hot,” he crooned with his eyes half closed. Elly sighed deeply when he reached out a hand and grabbed her breast, not stroking or stimulating her at all when he simply squeezed her into his palm like he was testing the ripeness of an orange.
“I love your little titties,” he slurred, trying to keep his hand on her breast.
“Better than your limp little cock,” she sneered under her breath.
Their sex hadn’t always been this bad, in the early days they could hardly keep their hands off each other. Elly would tease him at campus, wearing a skirt short enough she could just barely bend over and he’d see a flash of her skimpy underwear. Those were the days when she was trying to push past her trauma, trying to reclaim her enjoyment of sex. And Tony loved it, but he didn’t make the same effort back. He didn’t surprise her with roses, he didn’t try to romance her with a candle-light dinner. Instead he lazily relied on his boyish good looks, assuming that was enough. Except the older he got, the more selfish he got. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. And Elly had learned she didn’t have the same feelings for him anymore, and it was sort of slowly killing her.
She rubbed against him more vigorously, trying to get him hard, but he only twitched weakly. She pulled his other hand up and tugged it up to her other breast, trying that, but got nada back. Sighing again, she came to a stop. His eyes were closing shut, and his mouth was falling slack. The fucker was actually falling asleep.
Elly crawled off of him and out of bed, then quietly went into the bathroom. In the cluttered confines of their small apartment, the privacy of a tiny bathroom was at least her sanctuary. Turning on the water, she tried to forget Tony’s clumsy ways and let her mind wander to something else that would bring her pleasure after she’d revved herself up just for his stupid ass. Taking hold of the shower wand she aimed the spray between her legs, turning down the water pressure to a gentle but steady stream. Feeling the thumping rhythm of water going across her clit, Elly leaned back against the shower wall and closed her eyes.
And for some reason she thought of Vivian. She thought balıkesir escort of how much she’d like to look like her, statuesque curves like she was carved from stone, instead of her own straight lines once described as “athletic” by a well-meaning friend. But it didn’t matter when she rubbed her fingers across her rigid nipples, knowing how sensitive they were- no matter how big they weren’t, while flexing and puckering her slit against the stream of water blasting into her opening, bringing her closer to orgasm. Elly knew how to make herself come, how to enjoy her body after years of mental betrayal when she wanted it most but couldn’t forget old scars. Now she could enjoy her own efforts to get herself wet and excited, and know there was nothing wrong with that after years of ridiculous shaming from her pious mother. Elly liked having her clit stroked and her pussy fingered (and licked but only if she’d recently trimmed the hedges), she liked having someone drill her from behind while they cupped her tits, or better still leaning her up against a counter or table and spreading her open. Except nowadays it was just her fantasy that she had to play through her head while her lackluster husband slept soundly, ignorant to the self-propelled cries of pleasure from his wife in their shower.
********
The tasteful white business card with Vivian’s name on it in stylish bold script stayed tucked in Elly’s purse for the next week, her fingers occasionally brushing past it in the little pocket that held a jumble of ball point pens. Making social plans was a rarity for Elly when she worked nearly every weekend at her thrilling job, and Tony was more than happy to just hang out with the boys. The few friends she’d retained from high school and her limited college days seemed more interested in unaffordable destination hangouts, and when she opted out because she was 1. Working weekends, and 2. Broke, they quit inviting her.
Superficial friends didn’t interest Elly, leaving her with a few of her coworkers and Joan. Although hanging out with coworkers was always good for a post-shitty workday vent session, she still missed having the unvarnished advice and support of Joan. Vivian seemed like someone with better insight into the plight of the modern woman’s life, and after another annoyingly tepid sexual session with Tony, Elly needed someone to talk to. After ten minutes of drafting a text message that didn’t sound weird or stupid, she hit send and waited.
Vivian answered her text message within the hour, a courteous reply that sounded just as elegant as her voice. She competently arranged a meeting for the next day at another café, sparing Elly any bumbling attempts. They met up in midtown at another tasteful establishment that echoed Vivian’s upper- echelon style.
Elly arrived first, being anxious that arriving late would be rude, but then equally anxious that being early also seemed too eager. Socializing always made her scrutinize herself to a brutally harsh degree, but Vivian’s intimidating confidence was making her even more nervous, and making her wish for a more diverse wardrobe than her nicest dark denim jeans and a nubby gray pashmina sweater that had seen better days.
When Vivian arrived a few minutes later, she swept into the café wearing another high fashion ensemble: a cropped leather jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, tucked into a black pencil skirt that rested high above her trim waist. Everything was tailored to a snug fit that revealed her shapely physique that was only further accented when she walked in wearing the tallest high heels Elly had ever seen. They looked to be half a foot tall in a sleek black leather. Vivian managed to walk along in a careful fashion, almost in a dance like way.
She smiled at Elly with a little nod, ordering a cup of tea before sitting down at the little table she’d found in the corner by the window.
“Hello my dear,” she greeted her cheerfully. “It is good to see you again.”
Her hair was swept up into a stylish top-knot, recently dyed a more reddish shade of dark brown since the funeral. Elly wished she’d put on more make-up when she looked at Vivian’s face that was nothing short of devastatingly beautiful with expertly applied eyeliner and lipstick.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Elly replied, already struggling for conversation topics. “I didn’t expect you to meet me…this quickly, just for me, in case you had other plans or…”
She trailed off rambling when Vivian thankfully cut her off.
“It is no issue, I work when I want in most cases. My clients are also known to cancel unexpectedly- someone’s face is too red or too fat that day, or some other silly reason that they cannot be photographed.”
“I’d love to call in sick to work just because I woke up bloated,” Elly quipped.
Vivian chuckled. “It is the world of modeling. Every inch of your body must be perfection.”
“How long did you model for?”
“I booked my first job at balıkesir escort bayan 19, and my last shoot ended when I objected to the men watching me undress who had no business to be there,” she answered, her eyes narrowing.
“So, a few years,” Elly joked.
“More than a few,” she sighed, “but I learned what it is the camera looks for, and how to capture it. And I met Joan, among a rare handful who wanted better for themselves and others.”
“I can’t imagine being…objectified as part of my job, deal with that and then deal with all the other sleazebags in the world. And I’ve met ALOT of sleazebags,” Elly stated, taking a sip of her decaf.
Vivian stirred her tea, each of them silent while the drone of the coffee machines filled the conversation void. She lightly clinked her spoon along the edge of her cup, the red fingernails delicately setting the spoon down before she spoke again.
“Do you work Elly, or are you a student?” she asked politely, kindly insinuating she still had broader ambitions than her present life.
“Uh working- yes. Not a student. I work at a catering company, as a server. I took a few culinary classes at City College, but then I got married and needed to work full-time, so now it’s just eat, sleep, work.”
She’d rattled it off while staring past Vivian, trying to get the worst of her pitiful life details out.
“You are married?” Vivian asked, seeming surprised.
“Yup, ten months going on and it feels like ten years,” she chirped, anxiously undoing and then winding back up her dishwater blond ponytail, the only hairstyle she was capable of.
Vivian tipped her head, studying Elly with a more focused look. “It is not the marriage you expected?”
Elly twisted her mouth, embarrassed but ready to unburden herself to a stranger that might offer impartial advice.
“No, not really. I met him in one of my classes, and it was just this dumb idea we had one night… hey lets go get hitched. We thought being married would simplify things, consolidate money, housing. Instead it just gave us more things to fight over,” she explained.
“Marriage is never simple,” Vivian remarked.
“Are you married?”
“So far I have managed to avoid it,” Vivian answered with a comical flourish of her hand.
“You are smarter than me,” Elly replied, garnering a hearty chuckle from Vivian that made her feel very proud of herself.
“Perhaps it is not a matter of being smart, but the benefit of witnessing the struggles of someone like Joan,” she offered with a pointed look, a clever segue to see if this was what Elly was alluding to in her own marriage.
“Yeah, her ex was a real piece of shit. But my husband isn’t breaking any windows or sending me to the ER. He’s just…”
She tried to think of the best way to describe Tony, feeling it was unfair to generalize him when she wasn’t anything amazing either, and suddenly realized what it was.
“He doesn’t make me want to come home. I’ll go to work, spend all day on my feet, and when I get off the train I’m so exhausted but sometimes I’ll just keep walking around the block so I don’t have to make small talk with him and pretend we feel anything other than just…boredom.”
Vivian was leaning forward on her elbow, listening with rapt attention that Elly wasn’t used to.
“Or maybe I’m just boring because I have no life,” she quickly cracked.
“If you are boring, why does he then stay with you?” Vivian proposed thoughtfully.
“Because he’s lazy,” Elly sneered, “probably the laziest person I’ve ever met.”
Vivian had opened her mouth to say something when Elly continued.
“No seriously, he’d live in total filth off his own garbage if I didn’t clean and feed him!”
She started chuckling at Elly when she piled it on after getting a laugh. “He’ll wear the same clothes for days if I don’t say something, he’ll leave all his dirty dishes on the kitchen counter. It’s like having a toddler with bad sex thrown in.”
They laughed together, Vivian ignoring the red in Elly’s cheeks after her last unintended statement. Vivian was laughing hard enough that she accidentally knocked her hand into the tea cup, almost tipping it over. The unexpected giddiness surprised her, letting out a deep exhalation of relief.
“I should not laugh at your misfortune,” she said, tucking back a wayward strand of hair, “but hopefully it will not always be this way, for you.”
Elly shrugged, “I’m used to it.”
When they said their good-byes, Vivian leaned forward and did the European air kiss on the side of Elly’s cheek. It happened so quickly that Elly didn’t react, or return the gesture, but Vivian didn’t seem to mind. She simply smiled, her deep brown eyes holding Elly until she’d turned around and disappeared into a cab. And as nervous and awkward as Elly was, she felt fairly confident that she would see Vivian again.
They began meeting weekly for coffee, and then it was lunches. Sometimes it was escort balıkesir a modest little diner, but more often they met at no less than a Michelin 4 star joint. Vivian spoke French to the waiter and ordered a $40 bottle of wine. She fascinated Elly, revealing herself in small clues that remained to be solved. Despite her beauty and decorous clothes, Vivian was refreshingly humble and kind. She always made a point to compliment Elly, trying to build her up, never speaking down to her despite the wide disparity in their lifestyles. She was intelligent and well spoken, but could laugh at a dumb joke.
Elly was spending more time with her, and each time she did, she felt herself watching Vivian in a way that made her embarrassed. Admiring her was understandable, but Elly wasn’t doing that. She was noticing the way Vivian flicked the glossy strands of her hair over her shoulder when she laughed, the way her hips shifted with each purposeful stride of her long legs, the way her breasts pressed into a shirt thin enough to reveal the lines of her bra through it. Elly was staring at her and feeling a want for something she couldn’t explain.
One lunch, Vivian gave Elly a small silver envelope embossed with her name on it. The card inside was an invitation to a party at Vivian’s apartment.
“It’s just a small group of friends and clients, twenty or so people. I would be honored if you attended,” she added batting her eyelashes.
“I’ll come,” Elly blurted out. “But question, what should I wear?”
“Whatever you feel most comfortable in. You would be striking in anything.”
Elly felt herself blush, and made plans to find something that lived up to Vivian’s compliment.
The fateful night came, and after about fifty outfit changes Elly settled on the black cocktail dress she’d just purchased from the world’s most annoying salesperson. It was short, coming just to her knees, with a halter style top that actually pushed up her breasts to create a modicum of cleavage. She thought it was sexy enough for a party, but classy enough for the Upper East Side.
Vivian’s address led to a towering building with a doorman and a security guard that had to check Elly in before she could even get in the elevator. Everything was a sleek post-modern steel and chrome. Whoever lived in this building had some serious coin.
The door was opened by a butler, which immediately set the tone for the decadence inside. Elly was greeted by a heady mix of food and fragrances as she walked into what was a living room the size of a small restaurant. The beautifully appointed apartment was dressed with plush overstuffed couches and chairs, dark polished wood furniture, and oriental rugs lining the floor. There were fresh flowers everywhere, along with large stylish photographs of amazing looking women. The far side of the room was simply ceiling to floor glass, no doubt looking out to a view on Central Park. Next to the wall of windows was a long narrow table that was laden with a multitude of fresh fruit, crackers, cheese, and what Elly assumed was caviar. Everything was placed in the most fashionable way possible. Elly felt like she was looking at a painting of some glamorous event that she had accidentally stepped into.
The room was crowded with important looking people dressed in expensive suits and dresses. Vivian emerged from the group, looking incredible as usual, and greeted Elly with a kiss on the cheek. She was dressed in a floor length satin ball gown, the full skirt tapering in at her waist while the top clung to her curves in dark burgundy. Her ebony hair was pulled up, showing off long dangling diamond earrings. She looked like a movie star.
“Come, let me introduce you,” she exclaimed to Elly and whirled her into the crowd.
She introduced Elly to diplomats and hedge fund managers. The men seemed more interested in Vivian, but she never fell to false flattery. She would politely say thank you to the compliments and then deftly turn the conversation back around to her guests. Vivian was a master at conversation.
Just when Elly was feeling her feet ache in her also recently purchased high heels because she never wore heels, Vivian quickly noticed her shrinking back into a quiet corner of the party. She came and took Elly’s hand and gently pulled her towards the wall of glass, opening a concealed door that led out to a small balcony. It was windy, but beautiful, the twinkling lights of Manhattan seen from a distance instead of from the crowded streets below. Another couple had also been on the balcony, but exited after being introduced to Elly.
“I’m so glad you were able to make it,” Vivian said with sincerity.
“I can’t lie, I was a little nervous, okay terrified, but I decided it was good to get out from under my rock,” Elly cracked.
“You were welcome to bring Tony, if you’d desired,” she stated politely.
“He wouldn’t have come. Too many people and too much work to get dressed,” Elly shrugged, “which is actually ok.”
Vivian tilted her head, “How so?” She always managed to get the truth out of Elly.
“We just don’t do things together anymore. It’s just us at home after we’re both- or at least I’m tired- from work. I hardly see him most days. I’ll think we should be trying to…connect, but when I see him again I realize I don’t miss him.”