by Fifi Flowers
People often told me how great it was that my parents have been married for almost fifty years. Didn’t I want something like that someday? Hell no. Marriage was not on my to-achieve list. I had no desire to be like my mother. She stayed home, took care of the house and kids; just how my father wanted her. He was old school. He always told me: “Women should marry, have babies, and take care of the house. The family should sit down together to a home cooked meal. Women did not belong in business.” He only allowed me to attend college because it was a good place to find a successful husband.
I had no plans to find a husband. I was eighteen years old. I just wanted to learn. And seriously, did I want a man like my father telling me what to do? None of my friends had mothers like mine. Do you know how many times I heard my mother being called a Stepford Wife? The first time I heard one of my older brother’s friends say that, I had no idea what he was talking about until I looked it up on the computer years later. One look at those women, in both versions, and I was scared that they were right.
Applying to colleges, I told myself, I would show my father. Women could be just as good as men in this field. I would get my degree and be ready to work in our family business. But, I was fooling myself. My father had no intention of allowing me to work for his company, let alone ever run his precious business. Before I graduated from college, he had given the business to my brothers. When I mentioned being a part of it, he scarred me with his words and turned me away from him. “It’s a man’s world. It’s a man’s type of business. If you want to be in this company at all, maybe you could be a secretary. Talk to one of your brothers.”
Fuck that! I would show him. Yes, I would show him. That was what I said in rebuttal before I left my parents’ home for good. At first, I was bitter, striving in business to show him, but truthfully, I loved my job. It was no longer about him.
I realized what I wanted for my future in the first few years at my company. I saw other people married with children. Heard them talk about their nannies and their kids’ boarding schools—basic neglect of their families. Certain that wasn’t for me, I quickly added “no children” to my not-to-achieve list. Not that I ever was really interested in the whole mommy-hood thing to begin with.
Yes, I put myself in check for certain things, but I had no problem letting my hair down. I just had to be more careful, because people think differently of an unmarried, childless woman with no intention of settling down. And of course, I had no intention of being a nun. Flings for life. Corporate girl for life.
Maybe that was why I shed a few tears; I had nothing in common with my mother. I was everything she wasn’t. There was no real bond between us. Yet, she seemed to be reaching out. I quickly responded to her email, letting her know that it was perfectly fine for her to email me.
Hitting send, a new email popped up, and my heart dropped.
From: Suze Woodland
To: Willow Dane
Big Changes
Today at 11:00 AM
Looks like it’s a go with the merger. We will need to be ready to keep the masses from panicking. Location uncertain, nothing drastic as we will remain in the same building. All positions, for the most part, will not change. Different ball game, however, and they may want to remove some dead weight from around here. That may be a blessing in disguise. Anyhoo, I’m skedaddling off to another “fun” meeting, but will be back in my office this afternoon. I will text you with an exact time for you to rock your body over. Stay calm, we will make it through, and remember—our lips are sealed! Sing that to yourself; I am.
Suze
CEO, Woodland & Associates
Shit! Shit! Shit! How was I going to stop the bedlam when I was freaking out myself? Location? I loved my office. I loved facing the downtown area. Thank God we weren’t leaving the city. I loved walking. I didn’t even own a car. Different? How? Good different or bad different? It couldn’t be bad. A company wouldn’t merger to the bad side. It was a matter of how the change would affect each individual.
My stomach rolled and my head began to throb again. I looked over at the clock: noon. More aspirin and spicy food, stat! As if someone was reading my mind, Tomasina appeared with a greasy bag in her hand and two large soft drinks. I never drank carbonated beverages, unless I had a hangover. The combination was the cure-all for me. “You are a godsend! I’m surprised to see you back in town, did you get called in?”
“You really were out of it, Lolo. I stayed at your house last night. There was no way I could leave you.” Ugh! When she called me Lolo, I knew that I had been out of control. I hoped that stories were not about to pour from her lips. If they did, I prayed they were calm and repeated in a soft voice.
“Give me that burrito, now! Extra salsa?” It was okay for me to be a little loud.
“Of course, anything for the naughty princess.” Laughter filled my office and I grabbed my head, cringing. “Sorry. Here’s more aspirin, naughty princess.” She extended her hand.
Unwrapping the perfectly ordered burrito, I devoured the messy goodness as the drugs kicked in. I was starting to feel human again. “Why do you keep calling me naughty princess?” Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, but—too late.
“Let me just say that I believe your name could possibly be carved in the men’s bathroom.” She snickered softly. Thankfully.
“Please tell me my clothes stayed on and there was no dancing involved.”
“Wellll… Just kidding. Nothing like that. Not to worry, you did not perform a big theatrical number for all to see. Although, a certain handsome man, at the bar, probably had blue balls, courtesy of you molesting him.”
“You’re kidding, again?” For some reason I had a feeling that did happen. I did wake up with the taste of men’s cologne in my mouth.
“Nope. That really happened. I knew you were gone after that move.”
I shook my head carefully. “Thanks for staying with me. Thanks for the hangover cure. But please, don’t tell me anymore about my naughty status.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I pulled you off of him before you got out of hand.” She laughed loudly this time and I buried my head in my hands.
Saying goodbye to Tomasina, I wondered if the day could get any worse.
Oh yes. It could. The meeting with Suze. Something was going on. Tensions amongst higher ups were beginning to flare once they began to receive the final word. People were starting to pace up and down the hallways. What was the situation; was our company taking over another? Were we merging as one, to form a new company? What would happen with our job security? Was anyone safe? Was there someone equivalent to me? Would they be in charge of me or me in charge of them? Would we co-exist or would one of us be eliminated?
I was beyond stressed. I needed to relax. I needed yoga.
I was leaving soon for a four day retreat. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Or was it? Maybe the timing wasn’t right. I needed to make a point to talk… to remind Suze. Did she forget I was leaving? I couldn’t wait to talk to her.
I knew she would set me straight. There was absolutely no bullshit with her. She told it how it was in her own fashion. Wacky and high strung one moment, then cool as a cucumber the next. Maybe it was all the music she listened to—upbeat to mellow—that ruled her delivery. After all, I rarely saw her without her ears filled with earbuds and cords hanging down the front of her crisp, designer clothing.
Rumor was: our buxom-blonde CEO was performing DJ gigs on the weekends. You’d think it would shock us, but after seeing the way she took over the DJ booth at our last holiday party; she knew her shit and rocked it until the club cut the power and asked us all to leave. Since then, behind her back or right in front of her face with her music thumping in her ears, we call her DJSuze. I loved her. She was the best boss I ever had.
After reading Suze’s text “Ready!” I made my way to her office. I was somewhat at ease when I walked in on the woman-in-charge shaking her booty in my direction. In her hands she held an open folder fi
lled with document that looked like contracts.
“Come in, Willow. Have a seat.” Obviously she knew it was me, my reflection visible in the floor-to-ceiling glass before her, as she had not turned around. She had, however, stopped wiggling her JLO backside.
“How can you be so calm?” I asked as she freed her ears to give me her attention.
“Listen to the rhythm. Go with the flow.” I was afraid the beat might land me on my ass right out the front door onto the cold, hard sidewalk.
“Speaking of flow, or possibly relaxing, I’m supposed to be leaving for a retreat in a couple days. I will be away for almost a week. Should I, maybe, re-schedule?”
“Of course not. There’s nothing we can do at this point. It is what it is…” Removing the cords of her earbuds completely from around her neck, she sat down, and started filling me in on the meeting she had attended. The good news was that we would remain in our building as she had stated earlier in her email. Details needed to be worked out if we would move to another floor. I would have my own office, but I may have to move to a different one. I hoped not. But truthfully, not losing my job was key, all that mattered. Wrapping up our discussion, she instructed me to go have some fun. “Now. Get out of here. Go get your Zen on. Namaste.”
“Well then, I guess I’m off to meditate…” Stopping before exiting her office, I pointed to the shocking lime-green earbuds she was about to re-plug into her ears. “You know, DJSuze, you really should sign with a recording label.”
With a big smile on her cherub face, she laughed, rising from her seat, and waved me away with a flip of her wrist. No doubt that woman would be dancing before I strolled past her assistant’s cubicle, long before I hit the elevator button to paradise.
Chapter Four
Dash
Before the sun greeted the West coast, I was up and out the door. With an unexplained energy, I walked the streets of downtown LA. Unexplainable, my ass! I knew exactly what—who—had me excited. Even after relieving myself, twice the night before and again taking my morning shower, the corporate-temptress had me all fired up. I hoped the walk would clear my head. It wasn’t working. Walking past each high-rise building, I imagined her fit body in a halfway-lift position over her desk. Ugh! An athletic cup might be needed to get me through my class without embarrassment. I needed to get control. Cleansing breaths!
Arriving at my destination, assigned a large studio room where I was to be giving a sunrise yoga class, I got ready. Slipped off my shoes and socks, stuffed them in my trainers, and set them next to my bag. Pulling out my wireless headset, I placed it on my head. Then, I set up my miniature, but powerful, audio Bluetooth boxes, usually two of them, one for my voice and one for background soundscapes. I had learned to bring my own equipment in case certain locations did not have their own sound systems.
As the sun was just beginning to make its appearance through the tinted floor-to-ceiling glass walls, my students filed in with various colorful yoga mats. After unrolling them on the hardwood floor, a few began to do some stretches and bends, awaiting my instructions.
After introducing myself and assessing my audience, our session commenced. “Looks like we have some stressed-out people this morning.” Grouchy faces stared back at me. “Before we get started, let’s tune in our minds. Or tune out our minds, more like it. Remove our negative thoughts.” I unrolled my mat.
Usually, I spoke while standing and viewing my class. Often, I walked between my students, correcting any awkward poses that I felt might be harmful to their bodies. Often, I also offered encouragement. But that morning, if I was going to make it through, I needed to regroup, too. Lowering on to my mat, I continued. “Sit cross-legged, hands on thighs, palms up. Eyes closed. Relax.” I hoped I could follow my own words. “Deep breaths. Concentrate on the rhythm. In. Out. Let go. Let all of the tension you’re feeling escape. Empty your mind.”
How was I going to do this? I couldn’t follow my own instruction. Behind my lids, I saw her. She was beautiful. Her dark hair was asking to be tangled around my hand. She had amazing eyes. God! She smelled good. She practically purred in my ear. She promised we would be great together. She was right. I saw myself buried deep inside of her warmth. Yes, moving in and out of her. Amalgamation, wasn’t that the word she used for our coupling? And then… Boom! Her word again for our climax. Fuck! You can do this, Dash.
Not only was I instructing my class, but myself silently, as well. Inhale deeply. Long exhalation. Out! Out! Out! I needed her out of my mind. I had control. I had focus. I had been practicing yoga for eight years. Damn it, I was a master—I am a master!
“Okay, everyone please stand and let’s begin warming up. Reach to the sky. Feel the stretch all the way to the ends of your fingertips. Now on an exhale, slowly fold at the waist and swan dive; fingertips to the floor…” I was back in the zone, guiding my class through each step, every breath. I loved the calmness that encompassed my being.
Ironic that I was concentrating on driving a woman from my mind. My induction into the practice of yoga was due, in part, to another woman. A woman that I had been dating casually surprised me with a three-day weekend spa getaway. I didn’t usually make a habit of going away with women, but I was shanghaied. It worked out to my advantage. It was a real life changer.
At the end of our first day at the resort, my female friend was called away by a family emergency—her husband came home early from a business trip. Seeing as I had no plans for the weekend, other than a paid-in-advance mini vacation, I decided what the hell?—I can try this out, and decided to stay. Besides, there was no sense in me leaving, not after all the pussy I saw, positioned in downward dog, in my face. Not to mention, I really enjoyed the meditation as well as the constant movement of parts. It was invigorating. I felt amazing after just one class. Better than I had ever felt doing other exercise regimens that seemed to beat the hell out of my body and left me feeling less than great.
Returning from the retreat, I searched out places for yoga in my area. Attending various types of yoga classes, I learned a great deal. I found the sessions were better than bars to get laid by nicely, toned and—not to be forgotten—flexible women. Other than social benefits, yoga practice gave my body long, lean, firm muscles. They were the best results I’d ever gotten from working out. After attending a variety of classes, I found power yoga was my favorite technique style.
Frequenting the same yoga center all the time, I got to know the instructors and eventually the owner. He asked me if I’d be interested in teaching a few classes. Why not? I was already bringing in several new people and chanting to anyone who would listen to me how passionate I was about it. So, I began training faithfully and became a certified yogi. Though my own preference was the intense continuous motion of power yoga, I wanted to gain knowledge about all aspects of the art. I immersed myself into the philosophy, discovering the benefits of a variety of practices and methods.
Once comfortable with my techniques and teaching ability, I decided to expand my reach. I had the desire to branch out after being asked to make few guest appearances, rather than teach routine classes in one certain location. Besides accepting invitations to lead retreats, I thought it might be nice to take yoga to the outdoors. Needing to advertise my own yoga classes, with my public relations experience and the help of my graphic design friend, we set up a website.
Next thing I knew, I was in front of hundreds of women a week wherever I held class. The numbers never stopped. I did not prey on women. No. They actually threw themselves at me like panties thrown at rock musicians. Yoga groupies. When I told my buddies stories about some of these enthusiastic females, they teased me that I was treated like a fucking yoga rockstar.
At first, younger and horny, it was great, but as I got more in tuned with my psyche. Seeing some of the same women coming to my events, I avoided them. When I hooked up with women from a class, I was discreet. No repeats. Up front about the situation, I had no intention of anything permanent. I didn’t wish to
offend pupils, either.
Eventually, I stopped doing regular appearances. Resorts, retreats, or exclusive classes were all that I did. The chance to travel to distant cities and countries was a great way of getting an all-inclusive paid vacation and experiencing new cultures.
It was perfect for unwinding from my regular daily schedule.
It was perfect for flings, too.
It was perfect that I had my bags packed, ready to escape.
“Good job, everyone. Let’s take it way down. One more downward dog. Hold for five counts. Focus on your breathing. Then slowly lower to your mat. Cobra. Roll on to your back. Flat on your back. Arms at side. Palms up. Let your legs fall open. Eyes closed. Feel the weight of your body fall into the earth. Relax. Breathe in and out. Release. Heaviness to lightness. Clear your mind. Namaste.”
Little by little, people rose from the floor when they were ready. Everyone meditated at their own pace. I never rushed anyone. Done, they rolled up their mats. Leaving, many expressed their gratitude. One long-legged female lagged behind, and I instantly knew what was coming.
“If you’re ever in Denver.” A very attractive blonde, with great, pushed-out tits, handed me a business card. Not to be rude, I accepted it. “My corporation could use a private class, a motivational boost.” Her corporation? Or her? By the way her long, burgundy talons scraped along my wrist, I was pretty sure, what she wanted. Her request could’ve been legitimate, but I would bet that my appearance would be followed up with a one-on-one climax. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing more… you, again. Pure perfection. I feel so invigorated…”
I cut her off promptly, having a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t want to wait until later. “Good that you benefited from my class. I’m truly sorry to rush you along; I have an appointment across town.” I gathered my equipment, and slipped on my shoes quickly. Realizing she was still behind me, with my hands in prayer position, I bowed my head. “Namaste.” Then, I exited the room. In the lobby, I reached into my pocket, removed the dubious card, and tossed it in a trash can on my way out the door. She wasn’t who I wanted contorted around my body.