by Stark, Rhona
I slipped into the silky water, enjoying the heat of it. When I was settled, I reached over to the button that was marked ‘Jet Stream’.
The bubbles started gently; a little stream of harsh little pinpricks against my skin. Before I knew it though, my body was swallowed up in froth. I wasn’t quite ready for the power of it, and to begin with, I almost thought about turning it off, because the sensation was so intense and unexpected. After the initial shock though, I got used to the pummeling my body was taking, and soon, all of the aches and uncertainty of the day were being washed away by the cleansing, relaxing whirl-pool. I sunk back into pleasure, giving in to it once more, as felt my mind wandering, off into the future, caught up in the excitement of new experiences, eager to live more and learn about myself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I read online somewhere that when you sleep in an unfamiliar location, it can give you more vivid dreams. One of my most vivid memories from childhood is a dream I had at my grandmother’s house one of the few times I slept there. It was more of a nightmare than a dream, really. I won’t go into to too much detail, but I woke up convinced that all my teeth had fallen out! It was gruesome, and I can remember really feeling, like, physically, the sensation of my teeth wiggling around in my mouth, and them pulling themselves out of the gums.
Yuck!
Whatever the reason, I dreamed some seriously weird crap that first night in Room 901. It was mostly disjointed stuff, like, little scenes from a TV show that don’t really go together. Like one minute I was with my mom and dad (except for some reason my dad was Mark, the first guy I ever went on a date with, the one who touched me up in the cinema. Weird, right? I mean, my dad never touched me up in the movie theater or anything. Sheesh, Cassie, stop jabbering). Anyway, my mom and pop were there, and then they weren’t, then I was somewhere like India, with this beautiful bird, and I was picking tea leaves, and the bird was with me, humming quietly, like, guiding me from leaf to leaf, helping me pick out the best quality tea or some shit, then, the bird was her , Ms. X, and this sounds crazy but it was both her and a bird at the same time, and I was with them both and just lying down in my childhood bedroom, and it felt like I’d known her/it since I was a kid.
But the most amazing thing about the dream was the color: everything was flipped, like, green was red and purple was yellow, everything was so vibrant and beautiful, all the tea I picked had the most amazing sort of, glow, that I can’t really describe. It felt deeply spiritual and intimate.
Yeah, so, not your normal run-of-the-mill dream, if you know what I mean.
For a second, when I woke up, I had no idea of where I was. It took me a few moments before it struck me. Then, as it sunk in, I realized with a rising level of panic that I had forgotten to set my alarm last night. Holy heck, what was the time? 8:35 am! I had time to get to work, but no time to go home and change. Gosh darn it, what was I going to do?
If there was one thing that Teresa hated above everything else, it was tardiness. There was no way that I could be late. I’d seen interns fired on the spot for lateness, and I felt as though recently I’d been treading thin ice with her. Something like this could push her over the edge. So I decided that I was just going to have to go in to work wearing my red dress. At least I could head out at lunch and get something more appropriate. And the dress wasn’t too revealing, at least. Eurgh, I could feel the panic starting to rise in my chest as I pulled on my clothes from the night before.
At least I’d had the sense to have a bath and get cleaned up last night, not leaving myself something else to do this morning.
I didn’t really take in the view as I walked through the reception area of The Plaza this time. I barely took in my surroundings at all, to be honest. I just walked as fast as my legs could carry me. As I walked, I realized just how tired I was. I hadn’t been up that late last night. It must just have been mental strain, or something like that.
I got some funny looks as I walked through the entrance hall to my workplace, and I thanked my lucky stars that my little window-less room had no other members of staff in it. Teresa hadn’t asked me to warm up her chair today, thank goodness. In fact, I saw no-one at all for a few hours. I thought I’d totally got away with it, just getting my head down, answering emails, researching clients, thinking of ideas.
The morning was almost gone. I’d emailed Teresa, requesting an early lunch-break, and amazingly, she’d agreed. I had only twenty minutes to go until twelve. I could almost taste my freedom. Then there was a knock on the door.
As soon as I heard it, I knew it was Teresa. The way she knocked so hard and with such confidence. How was it that the way someone knocked on a door could annoying me so much?
I was about to say ‘come in’, when Teresa burst into the room. She was wearing an immaculate grey power suit, shoulder pads and all, and her makeup was severe. If it had been possible to be murdered by mascara, I would have been on the floor twitching by now. But there was something unfamiliar about her, too, a slight difference of expression I’d never really seen on her before, something like vulnerability.
‘Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,’ she said, repeating my name while looking at a spot about a foot above my head, ‘my dear Cassie.’ She looked down, fixing those burning eyes on me. As she saw what I was wearing, a brief look of confusion played across her face, before it was replaced by one of utter delight and amusement. It didn’t feel like I was about to be fired for what I was wearing, but then again, maybe she took a perverse pleasure in disposing of interns who she found amusing.
‘Someone’s been on a hot date!’ she said. She raised her ever-present e-cig up to her mouth and fixed those waxy, red lips to it, before breathing in deeply. ‘Didn’t have time to get home last night, eh, Cassie?’
‘Um,’ I said, ‘it’s not that, I just, well, I went to a friend’s place last night. A party. With my penpal…’ Where was I going with this? Why hadn’t I planned a cover story in advance? I’d had all morning for goodness sake! ‘It was a baby shower,’ I said. I’ve never to this day been to a baby shower. To be truthful, I didn’t really know what one was, only that sometimes in sitcoms, someone would host a baby shower and their girlfriends would come round wearing fancy clothes and they’d have a wholesome evening.
‘Oh really,’ said Teresa. ‘A baby shower with your penpal, eh?’ Cigarette vapor swirled from her nostrils, giving her the look of a dragon. ‘It’s too beautiful a dress to be wasting on baby showers, dear.’
Thank God she didn’t seem too angry with me about the dress.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I thought I might come in here for a bit of,’ she wrinkled her nose up as though she’d smelled something disgusting, ‘girlie chat.’
Girlie chat? Was Teresa trying to be nice or something? Suddenly she had that alien look on her face again, that strange, vulnerable air, and her normally squinting, aggressive eyes opened wide. She looked younger, more approachable, less angry.
‘Has anyone ever betrayed you before, Cassie? A lover? A boyfriend?’
I was floored by the question. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I shook my head.
‘Me neither,’ she said. She came and sat on the corner of my desk, her e-cig clamped between her lips. She chewed its end for a moment, then looked at me again, ‘I think. I just, I need to talk to someone about it. I don’t want to trouble my friends, they have their own problems, so I thought, maybe you wouldn’t mind listening to me a moment.’ Typically thoughtful of her, I thought, sarcastically.
What would Rayne do, I thought suddenly, impishly.
‘Go ahead, sweetie,’ I said. What on earth had compelled me to call her sweetie? She mustn’t have noticed, because she carried on as though I’d said nothing.
‘It would be such a cliché if it turns out he has been cheating on me…’ She spoke fast and with real venom, all of a sudden, sucking again and again on the e-cig. ‘I’ve given up everything for him, really, I’ve never had kids, to keep my body nice and thin. I work out
, I’ve stayed in New York for his work. I could be anywhere I want: Europe, London, even further away, in Asia, all of the exciting, emerging markets in the world and I’m stuck here with Mr. Play-It-Safe.’
Teresa always went on about how New York was the most exciting, vibrant city on earth. I wondered whether she really meant what she was saying, or whether she was just channeling her anger.
‘He used to pay me so much attention,’ she said, ‘and these days, nothing. He used to buy me things, presents, flowers and the like. He used to take me places and pay me compliments.’ I found it hard to imagine what Teresa’s home life was like. Up until now, I’d not even known for sure that she was in a relationship.
‘Maybe he’s just, I don’t know -’ I started, before I was rudely cut off.
‘That’s right, you don’t know,’ she said, looking suddenly furious, as though I had done something wrong. ‘Why am I even talking to you, this is stupid, even worse, it’s demeaning.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘No, it’s not your fault.’
Just then, there was a rap at the door. Who else could be here?
‘Come in,’ said Teresa. Wasn’t I even allowed to decide whether someone could come into my room? Obviously not.
It was a delivery guy at the door. He had on a brown shirt and baseball cap, and had a box with him, as well as a pen and a clipboard. ‘This for you?’ he asked. ‘There’s no name on it. Just a flower. Guys out there say it’s not for them.’ He motioned toward the office where the others worked. Oh no! Ms. X’s delivery for me had arrived, and Teresa was here! What a nightmare.
‘Maybe it’s for me!’ Teresa said, suddenly brightening. ‘Finally, Mr. Play-It-Safe has done something romantic for me!’
‘It’s for me,’ I said sheepishly. ‘Sorry, Teresa.’
The delivery guy put the box down on my desk, and got me to sign a delivery note on his clipboard. Then, he tipped his cap to the both of us, and headed out of the office.
After a wait of approximately five micro-seconds, Teresa blurted out, ‘Well, aren’t you going to open it?’
‘Oh,’ I said, trying to appear calm, ‘it’s probably just something from my mom and pop.’
‘Like what?’ she said, calm and measured as a snake.
‘Um, they send through care packages sometimes, like, this one time, they just sent me a box of frozen meat through the mail, um, you know, cause they thought I wasn’t getting enough iron or something.’
‘It doesn’t look like a box of meat to me,’ she said. ‘And you’re honestly telling me your folks attach roses to their care packages? Go ahead, open it… I’d like to see what parents send their daughters .’
Knowing that there was no way of getting out of it, and that I was lucky to still be working at the company, I decided I was gonna have to open it.
So I took a pair of scissors from my desk tidy, and cut the tape at the top of the box. I opened the whole thing, and reached in. It was full of those little fluffy packing nuts, the ones made from polystyrene. I plunged my hand in, and felt the smooth glass neck of a bottle. I gripped it and pulled it out.
It was a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Round the neck something was looped. It took me a moment to realize that it was a leather strap, exactly like the ones which had restrained me last night, exactly like the ones which had given me such a tantalizing rush of pleasure.
I looked up at Teresa, and couldn’t help it: I started to blush. This was bad. If I could have seen myself, I’m sure that I would have looked as red and blotchy as a ripe strawberry.
‘A baby shower, eh?’ said Teresa. I’d never seen this look in her before, either. The way her mouth was arching upwards, the genuinely joyous slant of her eyebrows; this had to be happiness, didn’t it?
‘So come on then, who’s the lucky guy? What’s the story behind this “care package”’? she asked, on the verge of laughter.
I sat there, quietly, for a moment, trying to work out what to say. I almost burst into a confused mass of lies and ranting attempts to cover my tracks, when it suddenly dawned on me exactly what Rayne would do. And guess what? It was going to be exactly what Cassie was going to do in this situation.
I looked up at her calmly, and with authority and dignity in my voice, I said, ‘I’m sorry, Teresa, but I’d rather not discuss my private life, if you don’t mind.’
She smirked, turned on her heel, and didn’t bother me for the rest of the day. I remained quiet, but my heart was doing backflips.
When I got home that evening, I felt as though I’d survived against impossible odds. I left the Champagne in the freezer and showered and then, when I felt as though it would be cold enough, I gently pulled the cork from the bottle and poured myself a glass.
‘Congratulations,’ I said to no-one in particular. At the time, I didn’t know what I was congratulating myself for, but now it seems obvious. It was the first time I’d stood up to someone, and it was most definitely worth celebrating. My phone vibrated and I checked it for messages. Maybe there would be something there from Ali.
It was Debbie:
I hope you’re still excited about Saturday. Travis rang me to tell me he was nervous about meeting you! He’s so cute! He says is 7:30 at the BLT Steakhouse at East 56th Street OK? Apparently it’s delicious and very reasonably priced!
Delicious and reasonably priced. I thought for a moment that maybe I should cancel. I decided that I would, if I heard from Ali before Saturday. She certainly hadn’t told me that our relationship would be exclusive, and besides, I could use a good steak!
My sleep that night was deep, nourishing and pleasantly dreamless.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The rest of the week flew by, and before I knew it, I was getting mentally ready to go meet Travis at the steakhouse.
I know what you’re thinking and the answer is that no, I didn’t see any real romantic potential with Travis. Of course I didn’t. I was like, ninety percent sure by this point that I was a lesbian. But I had to make double, triple sure. I mean, this was life-changing stuff. This was important. I had to know how it felt to go on a date with a guy. Okay, so Travis didn’t sound like the pinnacle of modern manhood, and it kinda wasn’t fair that so much rested on this poor man’s shoulders, but honestly, I was going through some big deal stuff, and meeting up with Travis was a test to see whether the old Cassie, the Cassie I’d always thought I knew, enjoyed the date. Obviously, I didn’t hold out much hope of that, but never say never, and all that.
Ms. X hadn’t been in touch with me at all by this point. Believe me, I’d checked my phone enough times to be absolutely sure. It felt a little strange not to have heard anything from her. With every hour that passed by during which she didn’t message me, it felt as though my confidence, which had been at record levels, was slowly diminishing.
There were times when I tried to convince myself I didn’t care if she ever got in touch, and there were times when I tried to convince myself that I actively didn’t want her to text me, that I wanted our encounter to be just a magical one-off event, the kind of thing that you read about in books or see in films. But deep down, the whole time, I knew that I was hungry, anxious, to hear anything from that woman who’d made such a strong impression on me, who had touched me in ways I’d never been touched before.
I even drafted a message to her.
I’m thinking about you.
Ugh, it was so lame! I was trying so hard to be, I don’t know, cool, I guess. Is that what Rayne would do, send a mysterious SMS like that?
I didn’t send it, of course. Besides not knowing if it was the kind of thing that would annoy her, I wasn’t allowed to! I was already going to be punished (if I ever saw her again) and I didn’t want to have to be told off any more than absolutely necessary. Plus, maybe it was creepy to tell someone you were thinking about them. We hadn’t exactly built up the kind of relationship in which I felt I could get away with stuff like that.
Maybe she’d think I was a stal
ker or something.
I met with Debbie on Saturday for a drink in the afternoon at The White Horse Tavern. I had a Bloody Mary and Debbie made do with a tomato juice, bouncing baby Aidan on her knee. It was hard not to tell her about what had happened to me with Ali earlier in the week, and even harder not to complain about her not getting in touch with me, but I managed it. I don’t know why I felt I couldn’t tell her. I guess I was just at the start of this massive voyage of discovery, and I didn’t want outside opinions on it before I’d figured out how I felt about it all first. Like, if Debbie was disapproving or something, I might be more likely to put an end to it. She wouldn’t be disapproving of the lebianism, of course. She wasn’t like that. At least, I hoped so. She was open-minded. She’d be cool, surely. But the contract? The leather restraints? The sex with a near-perfect stranger? That might be crossing a line, from Debbie’s perspective!
It was another beautiful day, and we sat outside. The leaves were just beginning to turn the golden, amber color of the fall, and I could hear the city all around.
‘So, the main thing to remember about Travis is he likes to talk about himself, and that you shouldn’t talk about any of your weird experiences with ex-boyfriends or whatever. There’s nothing more boring to a man than hearing endless stories about your past sexual experiences, anything like that.’
I took a sip of my drink and listened to my friend as she carried on talking. Anyone would have thought that she was the one drinking, not me!
‘Right, got it,’ I said, ‘so the main thing to do is be seen and not heard, I guess?’
She looked at me with a little sarcastic smirk. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, Cass. It’s important that your goals in life are achievable.’ What made you such a freaking expert, Debbie, I thought to myself.
Before I knew it, we were saying our goodbyes and hugging each other.