Firsts: Book One’s

by Moore, Portia

  “How do you know he isn’t trying to traffic you? You don’t even know this guy!” she screeches and I let out a frustrated sigh, grab my phone, and shoot her a text of his driver’s license.

  “There! You keep it and if I disappear you’ll have all the evidence you need,” I proclaim sarcastically. I know I’m wrong and she’s right, and she’s saying all of this out of love, but I just don’t want to hear it right now. Or ever, if possible.

  She pulls out her phone to look at the message. Her eyes narrow in on the picture, and I can see the approval in seeing his photo, but then comes the grimace and I know she’s spotted his age.

  “Forty-five, Maddy? Are you insane?” she asks exasperated.

  “I absolutely am,” I tell her, expressionless. She shakes her head.

  “If he’s single at forty-five something is wrong with him. I hope you know that!” she spits.

  “As long as there’s nothing wrong with his dick, and I’ve made sure of that!” I sing. She huffs, disgusted, and finally leaves. My phone beeps and I pull it out. It’s Jackson, sending me the details of the trip. I forward it to Melissa and flop down on the bed. I’m definitely in need for some retail therapy, and for what better reason than a trip to Miami?

  I spend entirely way too much money for this shopping trip but both Parker and I agree that things like this only happen once in a lifetime and it was worth using my emergency credit card. I end up restocking on some makeup items, add six new bikinis, three sundresses, two pairs of sunglasses, five bras and panty sets, and a gorgeous yellow and white bandage dress.

  I’m going to Miami, bitch!

  Miami with a gorgeous man who made my body feel things I didn’t think was possible; free, all expenses paid. It’s almost scary how my life went from uncomfortably suffocating to spontaneously wild and exciting. Melissa may call it irresponsibly stupid but I’m twenty-three. This is the time, while I’m single with no kids. Not that I want kids or to be married, but so I have a lot of time to make questionable decisions—not bad but fun, exhilarating ones. I’m about to make a post about it until I remember me and Ryan are still Facebook friends and I feel a sting of guilt.

  “You can’t stop your life because of what Ryan thinks. You guys are over now; it sucks but life goes on,” Parker reminds me as I finish packing my suitcase.

  “I don’t know; I still feel like I haven’t finished the waiting period or something.” I sigh, zipping up my bag.

  “Ugh I wish I could come. I haven’t been to Miami in two years. You’re going to have so much fun,” she whines, sitting in her large office looking over the city. Sometimes realizing how far Parker and Mel are in their careers makes me feel like I’m behind in life. But then I realize they are both Type A personalities who put in a lot of work and almost sacrificed having a life to be where they are. And I’m not even entirely sure where I want to be.

  “That promotion is going to get you so much further than drinking alcohol on a beach with me,” I tell her, and she sighs.

  “Only you can meet an extremely hot man and have him whisk you off on a vacation. Mads, that’s a talent,” she says, and I chuckle.

  “Not according to Mel,” I groan.

  “She just wants what’s best for you, but she has to trust you to figure things out, and what’s wrong with you doing that on a beach with yummy cocktails?”

  “You always know the right things to say to make me feel better,” I tell her, my excitement growing again. I get a text message from Jackson that his car is fifteen minutes away and tell Parker I’m going to do a final check to make sure I have everything and call her as soon as I land. After I’m finished I roll my suitcase near the front door and knock on Mel’s office door before opening it. She’s at her laptop, an Excel sheet open, typing away at her keyboard. She doesn’t say anything. I lean in the doorway.

  “I’m about to head out,” I announce quietly.

  “Let me know when you make it,” she says stoically, not bothering to turn around.

  “If I die on the plane before landing you’re going to feel terrible for not giving me a hug.” She spins around with a scowl.

  “Why the hell would you say something like that?!” she says dramatically. She’s so superstitious.

  “I’m just saying!” I point out innocently. She lets out a forced sigh and comes over begrudgingly, giving me a hug.

  “I love you sissy,” I say, tickling her, and she can’t help but break out into laughter, but pushes me away.

  “Just, stay out of trouble,” she says after she regains her composure.

  “I always do,” I reply and she rolls her eyes at me.

  When Jackson’s Maybach arrives I’m disappointed when he isn’t in it. His driver explains we’ll be meeting him at the airport. I glance at my watch and see it’s 7:15 and he said we’d be leaving at 8:00, so that’s sort of pushing it to get through TSA. I pull out my phone, unable to resist doing an Instagram video inside of it hash tag #maybachlife. The ride from Mel’s to the airport isn’t long since rush hour passed. I get confused when the driver goes past all of the arrival ports.

  “Uhm, Bill…do you know what airline we are flying out of?” I ask the driver.

  “You’re not flying commercially, Ms. James.” I arch a brow. If we’re not flying commercially that’d mean we’re flying privately. I fight the smile spreading across my face and demand myself not to get my hopes up. But as I hand off my bags to the service worker I’m greeted by, step out of the car, and see a jet in front of me, I wonder what cosmic lottery I won to be able to experience this.

  When I see Jackson he’s wearing a tan oxford shirt, khaki pants, and a million-dollar smile. He greets me with a breath-stealing kiss that makes my head spin and I feel dizzy at the thought of this all—the trip, the amazing sex, being on a private plane—and try to steady myself.

  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” I say knowingly while looking around the plane. It’s all like a dream: expensive leather seats, the air not stale or full of unpleasant scents, but instead wafting around a faint hint of flowers. This is amazing! No crying babies, or sitting stuffed between snoring strangers and rowdy kids.

  “How else can I keep you interested?” he says this almost suggestively.

  “I can think of a few ways,” I tease him back. We’re greeted by two impeccably dressed flight attendants who greet me, already familiar with Jackson, and who tell me that if there’s anything at all that I need to just let them know. Jackson pulls out a bottle of champagne and pours me some.

  “Let’s toast,” he says pouring his own.

  “You want me to do it?” I ask him curiously and he nods.

  “To great Miami nights…and even better sex,” I purr and he gives me a smile as if he just won the lottery, when I’m the one who feels like I hit a jackpot. The flight passes way too quickly. We didn’t get to talk much last night but I find out that he’s a real estate developer, and he’ll be looking at properties while in Miami. He likes sports but is a diehard Bears fan as well as a season ticket holder. We talk about movies and music, and our age difference makes it all the more interesting. He tells me that I have to watch Goodfella’s, Face Off, and Heat. I tell him I will only if he watches The Notebook, Legally Blonde, and Wedding Crashers. During our plane ride—excuse me, jet ride—he massages my feet and legs. His hands are on me in some way at all times, and it feels magical. I wonder if it’s because we’re on a million-dollar plane with champagne flowing that makes it so intoxicating instead of suffocating, like how it was when Ryan did it.

  When we start to descend there’s turbulence, and he squeezes my hand.

  “You look nervous,” he says. I’m not but I squeeze it back. We’re picked up in another Maybach and this time we’re greeted by a driver named Miguel. I’m a little disappointed. I’d love to be in a car with a drop top to relish the energy of the city. Then I pinch myself. Who the hell is disappointed to be riding in a Maybach?

  “Do you have to go to work
right away?” I ask as we settle in.

  “Not until tomorrow afternoon.”

  My eyes light up.

  “So we have some time together this weekend,” I blurt out excitedly and then swallow my embarrassment, but when he kisses me softly on the lips it slips away.

  I’ve been to Miami before, for spring break my senior year. We stayed at a mid-priced hotel and I was pretty drunk most of the time, though it was a blast. But as we pull up to the Fountain Bleu hotel, and we’re whisked into a private entrance greeted by John, our own private butler, and travel to the very top I realize this is going to be a very different trip.

  The room is jaw-dropping—even more impressive than where he stayed in Chicago. It’s like we’re not even in a hotel. There is a grand foyer in the freaking room! Vaulted ceilings, gorgeous furniture, the room decorated in blue and cream hues…and the view is absolutely breathtaking. I am in awe, and I try to pick my jaw up from the floor but each area is more stunning than the one before. There’s five bedrooms, every one bigger than the last. After running around the place like a spastic five-year-old I turn to him and see he’s wearing a wide smile.

  “This is just for us? You don’t have like ten other girls coming do you?”

  He laughs. “It’s just us sweetheart,” he says, his mouth drifting into a smile.

  “I’ve never seen such a beautiful place,” I tell him breathlessly. “Thank you for letting me tag along,” I add genuinely. He looks at me like he’s in awe and it makes my skin burn.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” he replies. He walks towards me and pulls me into a slow passionate kiss. His arms are so strong, and I feel uncomfortable with how good all of this feels. I pull away and dive onto the giant bed, which must be made with the softest feathers in the world.

  “This is so fantastic,” I say, still amazed. “You know what? If they put this bed on your jet, it would be heaven. I would never leave. You must be really good at what you do,” I whisper as he pulls the straps of my dress down and begins kissing my shoulders.

  “Let me know show you what I’m even better at.”

  After he reminds me of what he’s better at, we take time to relax. We order room service even though it’s almost one in the morning. Jackson convinces me to try a truffle burger and it’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever tasted. We wash it down with mimosas and after another round of head-spinning sex I fall asleep in his arms. The next morning Jackson is already up, dressed in a white cotton shirt and shorts, looking particularly scrumptious and well rested.

  “Let’s go to the pool meeting,” he says and I’m bubbly with excitement. I shower quickly and throw on my bikini, covering it with a light pink sundress.

  The weather is amazing and feels warm on my skin. The smell of the ocean invigorates me. The sound of Latin music wafts through the air and I start to dance as we walk along the beach. Jackson watches me with a smile hanging on his lips and his eyes twinkle at me. He gets a private cabana and we order drinks and breakfast. Jackson has bacon and eggs and I settle for sliced fruit and a bagel since I don’t want my stomach to be bloated when he sees me in my bikini. I am ecstatic when he orders margaritas for us and think it’s the perfect start to the day. As soon as I have my last bite of cantaloupe I pull my dress over my head, take him by the hand, and pull him towards the pool. I love water and can stay in it for hours. I have one more margarita and after having as much fun as a ten-year-old at Disney World, we make our way back to the penthouse so that Jackson can get ready for his meeting.

  “Do you like your job?” I ask as we shower.

  “I do,” he says. “But my business partners, we’re all good friends, so that helps.”

  “Do you like yours?” he asks me, rinsing my hair of shampoo. I stop and think about it.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s better than answering phones in someone’s office.” I laugh. He turns me towards him and kisses me softly on the lips.

  “You should do something that makes you feel a little better than that.”

  “I mean, I don’t hate it. Some of the assignments I get take the fun out of what I like about designing. But it’s the nature of the business. Maybe one day I’ll be able to only take on jobs I find interesting.”

  “Or you can hire people to do the ones you don’t want,” he says.

  I laugh. “I’m definitely not there yet.”

  “You’ll be one day,” he tells me, and I like how he looks me in the eyes when he says that, and how he seems genuinely interested in my work and believes that one day I could be someone’s boss. Though I can barely manage myself.

  Jackson schedules a massage for me while he’s gone and makes dinner reservations for us once he’s done. I take time to explore South Beach. Miami is insanely expensive but South Beach is so entertaining. The street performers, the music drifting out of the bars. You can have a good time just walking around. I don’t, though, and end up out of almost a hundred dollars getting lunch, tipping performers, and buying another to die for retro-style bikini from one of the boutiques. I decide to get a late lunch and head into a bar that’s blasting my favorite rap song. It’s semi-full but there’s enough room where I’m able to get a seat and set my bag beside me. I glance over the menu and notice a group of girls laughing it up and doing shots. I smile, making it a point to plan a trip with the girls here soon.

  “What can I get you, Beautiful?” I look up and swallow hard at the gorgeous bartender that greets me. Dark chocolate-colored hair covers his head, thick eyelashes introduce ocean blue eyes, pouty kissable lips, and when our eyes meet my heart skips a beat. He looks familiar but I’d remember someone as impeccably handsome as this. Damn, there has to be a god to make men this good-looking.

  “What do you recommend?” I ask since I’ve lost all form of thought. He smiles and it’s wide and glorious.

  “You can’t go wrong with the fish tacos,” he suggests, and then leans in a bit like he’s about to tell me a secret, his smile almost mesmerizing.

  “Anything else here will give you the runs tonight.” He winks at me and my heart skips another beat, and I laugh. There’s two tattoos wrapping his arms and the white t-shirt he’s wearing is hugging his body for dear life.

  “Let’s go with those then,” I acquiesce and he nods, and our eyes meet and lock for a moment. It's a welcome feeling. He’s insanely hot, and just with his arms has a body to die for. But it’s almost as if there’s something else…like a spark’s been lit. It’s official: I’ve had too many drinks.

  “And can I make you something special to drink with it? Your taste buds will never be the same again,” he says, his voice husky but smooth, causing my stomach to warm. Okay, what’s one more?

  “How can I turn that down?” I tell him lightly.

  “Alex, over here lover boy.” It’s a bosomy redhead from the big group of girls. He glances over at them then back at me and I nod.

  “Get going lover boy,” I say to him playfully and he gives me an innocent grin. I laugh, pulling out my phone. I call Parker and tell her about my time so far, and she is the perfect friend because she’s as excited for me as I am. Alex brings me back my drink and when it hits my lips, it’s like an orgasm in my mouth. He watches me and looks more than pleased at my reaction but he still stands in front of me waiting for my response.

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “I’ve had better,” I tease and he touches his chest, feigning heartbreak. I laugh and he looks almost begrudging that he has to wait on his other customers.

  “You know it was amazing,” I say. His smile is so gorgeous it should be almost sinful to look at.

  “Who are you talking to?” Parker asks curiously.

  “The bartender,” I answer.

  “Is he hot?” she asks.

  “Insanely.”

  “Probably gay.” She laughs and so do I. We stay on the phone as another bartender gives me my tacos and she catches me up on her recent date with Brad. I don’t tell
her how good the food is because Parker’s favorite is fish tacos. I notice Alex’s gaze dancing over to me from the other side of the bar and realize I must be watching him if I’m noticing him eyeing me. I’m finished with my tacos and look at the clock; it’s almost 5:00 and Jackson said he’d be back around 6:15, so I signal Alex for the check.

  “You’re not leaving me already,” he asks flirtatiously and I give him a skeptical smile.

  “I didn’t realize I was here with you,” I tease him.

  “Besides, you have such a fan club,” I say lightly, tilting my head towards the redhead staring daggers at me. He gives me an innocently charming grin.

  “Just customers,” he says with half a shrug.

  “I bet.” I pull out my debit card.

  “It’s on me,” he says. I look at him with surprise.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Because this wasn’t a date,” I laugh, flattered.

  “It could be if you let me know when you’re free,” he says. I stare at him and shake my head.

  “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m not here long and I’m sort of here with someone,” I reply. He lets out a disappointed sigh.

  “Lucky guy,” he says with a nod. I attempt to give him my card again but he refuses to take it.

  “Who said it was a guy?” I say with an arched brow and a playful smile. His grin becomes even wider.

  “Thank you.” I get up from the stool, pulling out a twenty and attempting to leave it on the bar.

  “For your tip, then.” He covers his hand with mine and I’m shocked by the electricity that shoots through my body.

  “Just your name,” he says, and our eyes lock. I wonder how many girls he’s like this with and how fat his bank account must be from the kind of charm he has—especially in a place with so many women he probably hypnotizes with his flirtatious gaze and panty-dropping smile.

  “Madison,” I answer, and I slide my hand with the twenty from underneath his.

  “Until next time,” he says, and the way he looks at me it’s almost as if he believes there will really be one. I laugh at him and start to walk away.