Singing In The Rain

All good things must come to an end; and like all big storms, this one started with just one raindrop.

In a moment of weakness I text messaged The Britt; was his interest in me was purely physical, or did he wanted more? He’d been sending rather mixed messages for 3 weeks now and, never one to play games, I needed to know where we stood. In his ever-evasive English way, rather than answer me, he called and we chatted about everything other than sex. I guess that means he wants more…?

Arriving in Miami was a breath of fresh air, all puns intended. Although I was there for work, it was still a relief from the stress of the past few months. Very unexpectedly The Ex emailed me advising he would be in New York ‘very, very soon.’ Lovely, as I had just left.

Fortunately or unfortunately (no one really knows) I would be returning to the city the same day The Ex was to arrive. Through our classic witty banter I learn he is no longer with his girlfriend… and through chatting with my ever-gossiping Mum, discover he has informed his mother that he is coming to New York is to visit me. Okay…?

Miami had me running from party to show and back again, but it was not lost on me that The Artist must be there somewhere; which is exactly when I received his text. Later that night we crossed paths at The Interview Mag party at The Delano. He looked unbelievably hot and I was dying to get my hands on him.

Apparently he felt the same, because at 2AM with ditched our friends for wild sex in his penthouse apartment on the water. The Artist was just as rough as I remembered and even more hungry. His hands and teeth left more than his usual mark, making for a slightly awkward day, laying poolside. My nipples were seriously bruised and I wasn’t exactly sure how I would explain that to The Britt, should he ever call me again.

Just when I thought that nothing else could possibly arise, I received an email that was long overdue. The Photographer, the first man I’d been with after The Ex, my first ‘friend’ in New York; we’d been through so much, yet nothing at all over the past 2 ½ years. To be honest, I never thought things would have carried on this far.

It was strange to find myself happy reading his thoughtfully crafted note; he may have been more surprised by my response than I was. “I am so proud of you,” pushing the buttons on my blackberry I told him I would always be there for him as his friend.

Since the moment we met I knew he was lost; finally he'd caught up to speed and wanted to do something about it. I only want the best for him, so of course, even though hot tears rolled down my cheeks, I was happy for him. My tears were selfish; I knew we would never really be friends and it broke a tiny piece of my heart to lose someone like him.

Back to The Delano for my last Miami dinner, The Britt called my mobile. Caught off guard and completely surprised, I answered. I think this really could be something after all.

They say there is a calm before the storm; perhaps I was just too busy with the pace of the city to have noticed it. 

Bondage

The hotel bar is an entity in it’s own right, a place with it’s own rules and social norms. I adore a good hotel bar for many reasons, one of which being the hansom travelers just waiting for a little trouble.
In between apartments, I was holding up in the Tribeca Grand for a few days. Having just returned from Miami my skin was tan and it made my hot pink lips even seductive. I was sipping champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue, while my bartender Justin and I tried to figure out how we knew each other… I have an eye for faces.

The two gentlemen next to me at the bar kept glancing my way. I smiled and introduced myself; one was a complete disaster but the other was spot-on. Tall, handsome, impeccably dressed and English, I’m not quite sure if it gets better than that.

Lets call him James Bond Guy.

James Bond Guy was straight out of a film. Everything about him was utter perfection; a creature created for our viewing pleasure. He told me he worked for the government in England, who was I to question? We shared a few rounds at the hotel bar before he invited me to join him for dinner.

We headed around the corner to a small place with a glaring red light outside. His eyes never left mine the entire meal. The way he looked at me sent chills running down my spine, it was like he could tell exactly what I wanted to do to him and was daring me to try. We finished off the second bottle of wine and I tried again, “what is it exactly that you do?”

Some how our conversation had meandered to the topic of cars, a passion of mine, and I couldn’t quite figure out how anyone working for the government was able to afford a Bentley Continental. That’s when he told me, British Secret Service, MI5. Like anyone with half a brain I immediately shot it down, but he had the goods to back it up.

We left the restaurant and stumbled back to the hotel, his arm around my waist, guiding the way. Just outside the revolving door, he pulled me inward and kissed me. His hands on my face, pulling my chin upward, I breathed him in deep. His scent was sexual and masculine and his strong kiss was getting me too turned on to resist him.

We stepped into the glass elevator, eager to get upstairs. The door swung open and it was a matter of seconds before my head hit the pillow. His hands sliding up my dress, feeling every inch of my body. I could see how excited he was, he kissed my legs, knees and inner thighs, getting so close to feeling how wet I was for him, then he stopped. James Bond Guy grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to meet his kiss. As we kissed he slid his fingers inside me and I let out a short breath. He pulled me off the bed and led me to the shower… I couldn’t wait to see what he had in mind.

The Offseason

This Past New York Fashion Week I worked on the production of a very important designer's show. We had a hansom Pro-athlete “helping out” as our intern. He was so not my type, tall, overly muscular, tattooed and of course an athlete. Although I was the captain of my high school cheerleading team, I do not date athletes. Okay, who am I kidding I don’t really DATE anyone.

I knew nothing about his sport, when we met I had to asked if he played offense or defense… After flirting at the show he invited me for dinner and out dancing. We spent the night drinking champagne and kissing. I am pretty sure I heard him telling people I was his future wife, too bad I don’t plan to get married. Although he invited me to Miami for his offseason, I had to respectfully decline.

As I said before, I don’t date athletes. They put themselves first, their team second and YOU third and I am not interested in coming third.