So the potential client that was supposed to meet us in NYC two weeks ago, made a new appointment for like a couple of days, in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see Paris, just not on a day and a half’s notice, for business. That said, things are so close I can almost taste it.

And speaking of tasty things, Enrique has been very useful. Not just for this deal, but a few other things I’ve been working on. I’d like to say he’s been quite sweet, but men like him aren’t cute or sweet. Luckily I wouldn’t be alone with him like in London. This trip, the big guns would be coming, my bosses Christine and Nico. Apparently I wasn’t the only one expecting our European friends to sign on the line which is dotted.

I texted and finally talked with Todd. He was sad I’d be gone for a couple of days, but said I’d love Paris. He wished he was the one taking me instead of work. It was sweet. It turns out he’d be going to Connecticut around the same time, so he’d call me when we were both back in the city.

The trip was marginally longer than my last one. This time I couldn’t fall asleep so easily. Also, he was sitting with Christine and I was sitting next to Nico, who I think flirted with every steward and stewardess that came by. Enrique spent the flight in his suave pyjamas while his boss was in a comfortable pant suit. I had forgotten Enrique’s advice and was wearing one of my many identical dresses, which was quite conservative by comparison to the woman sitting next to me.

I have nothing against my boss or even the great advice she was giving for a city I would most likely not get to see, but I spent the whole (waking) trip worried she was going to flash her recreational flirting partners. That was until Nico topped up my complimentary adult beverage and just sat back and listened to her go one about how awesome Paris was. If she didn’t care about flashing everyone, then why should I.

I wasn’t the only one who took a short nap and was woken by the stewardess to put on our seatbelt. Maybe if I hadn’t have been so groggy, it might have been a bit awkward having your boss fall asleep on your shoulder. I really don’t want to know what the attendant winked to me about.

We landed safely and made ourselves presentable before disembarking. I struggled to keep up with my party through the airport. Enrique reminded them and encouraged me as we blazed through Charles de Gaulle. How did two women in monster heels learn to move so fast and fluid through the chaos?

We took two cabs to our hotel. I had to close my eyes as we darted through the crazy traffic.  That and the driver kept looking back at us—Nico. I was pretty sure my boss’s wardrobe malfunction was going to be the cause of us being a traffic casualty. When I finally leaned over to tell her, she promptly pulled down her dress and thanked me. I felt bad because I had thought she was still flirting like on the plane. I again realized she wasn’t courting attention, she just didn’t care. I wished I could bottle a little of that up for myself—not that I want to go flashing my private parts across the city. I’d just like to not feel like I wanted to die if it happened.

We took tuns watching each other drive through the city. It was a slow ride, plenty of time to watch and be watched. I know she’s been here many times before, her boyfriend/partner is from here, but she looked out the window like it was the first time. For me it was the first time and I was staring at everything. I wouldn’t have minded Nico’s light hearted banter, but I enjoyed just looking at the buildings and watching people.

My partner broke the silence to point out a cute little building. She demurely said that’s where she lives when in Paris. I practically crowded her looking out the cab window. It didn’t really look like much, just a city apartment, but I imagined it was very elegant on the inside—with lots of tasteful nudes. The area was teeming with well-dressed people at cafes or eating on patios. It looked like something you’d expect on a postcard. Near the end of our ride, I realized my outspoken, in your face New Yorker boss had been quite quiet and reserved in the ride through her second home. It wasn’t melancholy, but maybe a regret she hadn’t been back sooner?

Well either way, we were here now. And despite probably having the worst French in my party, I was the one sent to get our rooms. Again there was a mix up and we had three rooms instead of four. I’d like to point out, I did not make the reservations. When I told my bosses, I should have been tipped off by my previous direct boss’s unconcerned look. Instead I got taken in by my fashion godmother.

Nico said she’d just have to room with me and I’d have to sleep on the sofa… She went on and on, not really in an upset tone, in fact quite a matter of fact one. Christine sprayed the fire with gasoline reminding her friend and warning me about how she liked to sleep in the nude and didn’t like to be disturbed while doing yoga…in the middle of the night. I can’t belief it was Enrique’s inability to keep a straight face that tipped me off to my bosses jerking my chain.

Christine and Nico broke out into laughter, which I think was undeserved. Nico had been teasing me because apparently everyone in my party, maybe the hotel lobby by then, knew I was a bit prudish. I wonder if they’d have still thought that if I told them about my last night with my boyfriend. Actually, scratch that, it would be more embarrassing for me and I’d rather not have my bosses or Enrique knowing what I do with my boyfriend.

I found out shortly after that Christine and Nico would be sharing a suite where we’d be HQing our closing preparations. I was not to impressed and smacked my laughing boss’s behind like the spoiled little girl she was. The laughing stopped immediately, no, it paused—and even I joined in on it afterward, though I’m not sure why.

But as much as we’d have all liked to having continued making fun of me, we had a dinner engagement and only a few hours to freshen up before meeting the team we’d need to convince to go into business with us.

I wasn’t surprised I was the first one showered and ready to go. I was about to step out of my room when my phone rang. Nico was summoning my up to her shared room. At the time I was really worried about hit my boss in the lobby. As it turns out it had nothing to do with that at all, it was much worse.

Nico greeted me at her door in two towels, one on her head and the other around her body. Her face was clean of make up. She was different, still recognizable as the international trust fund celebutante she was, but softer. Her eyes were always smiling though, as they were when she asked me in. Christine was rushing around wearing a towel also, but clearly had done her face and hair. She paid no mind to me in my accessorized stretchy dress. I quickly learned that was why I was there.

Nico told me she supported my 333 project wardrobe and was an inspiration at work, but…The short version was we weren’t at the office and we really needed to impress and Nico thought that she should bring a few dresses for me… I was totally understanding and was impressed by the three dresses she had brought for me. But a part of me was a little upset. I wasn’t a little girl who needed to be dressed. I was a business woman who was dressed appropriately for a meeting with a prospect. I didn’t feel my neckline or hemline should have anything to do with me making a deal. But I worked for them—and the dresses were very pretty!

I picked the black dress, apparently to no one’s surprise. It was very basic, but not in the way my mail order ones were. The first thing I thought of when I saw it was, Dark Camelot. Not knights, wizards and witches, but the Kennedys. It looked like something Jackie O or Grace Kelly might have worn. I admit for a second I almost felt unworthy of it. It had no label as I checked it out. I didn’t remember it from the Black Hole of Couture, my boss’s face implied it might have been from her personal collection.

Christine came over in a very sophisticated, and svelte white dress. She was wanting her still undressed partner zip her up when she saw me fondling the dress. “You called it girl.” To no one’s surprise.

I must admit seeing my boss that I worked for month for in her simple, but elegant dress made me happy I had gotten a second chance at what to wear. I usually liked to fade into the background, but suddenly felt the need to rise to the occasion. Christine was perfect with her hair braided and in a cosmopolitan bun. Why was she single?

Back to me though. I was worried I wouldn’t have enough time to change, touch up my make up and redo my hair. I did all those things with time to spare as my other boss took a leisurely time getting ready. Odd since she already had a dress and under things picked out. She put on her face, when she was ready in about the time it took to make a cup of tea. I know this because I did waiting for her. Her hair took a bit longer, but was impressively fast for the results she got—which was stunning.

OK seriously, back to me. I redid my make up to fit in with my bosses. Christine gave me a couple of tips, but actually praised my for my speed and precision. To think a few months ago I could barely put on lipstick or eyeliner proficiently. She helped me braid and model my hair after hers. Despite looking different and having contrasting dresses, we looked more like a team. All the while I thought she was coaching me through the upcoming meeting. At one point my other boss streaked past us and I realized Christine wasn’t coaching me, I was coaching her. Apparently they hadn’t been rhetorical questions or attempts to see if I knew the finer details of the hopeful agreement. It was weird to see your idols naked.

And speaking a of naked idols, Nico was finally ready so we made our way down to the lobby when Enrique was waiting for us in a very expensive tuxedo. I was not the only one admiring him. I wasn’t the only one in my party admiring him. I also wasn’t the one slipping my arm into his. That was Nico. I had to settle for my very classy boss instead. I think we looked like movie stars as we made our way out to the waiting car.

In spite of the lengthy preparation time Nico had taken, we were actually early. We synchronized our stories for the evening. Even though this was a social, it was first contact with the client and therefore business. At some point I took control of the negotiating narrative. It was nice that Enrique backed me up on everything, even the things we had disagreed on back in New York. “Thank God some one knows what we doing”, Nico joked—or did she. Either way she was sincerely complimenting me. I silently thanked her. She gave me an awkward hug as to not risk ruining out hair or make up

Content that we were on the right page and ‘someone had a plan’ the car turned on me and teased me about the working social. Namely free following alcohol and dancing and some insinuation I secretly might be an exotic dancer. At the time I just took it as nervous needling. Later I was a bit miffed about it. Now I realize it was like a hazing ritual. No, not like those horrible stories from college. No, I mean like the initiation into an elite club. I guess I mean an initiation really. They teased me because they thought I could take it. And to be quite honest if I wanted to follow in their footsteps, I’d have to take much worse than their sophomoric jabs. Still there was a sense I belonged, which was crazy good.

I was also happy once we got to the rendezvous point since the attention was off me. When we stepped out of the car and doubly so when we entered, I was glad Nico had brought the dresses. It was the kind of place you see pictures of and think that looks swanky. But standing in the place was a bit overwhelming. We also seemed to literally be skirting the unwritten dress code of the restaurant.

Nico locked her arm in mine as the maitre d’ took us to out party. For the third time I was very appreciative that I had had a second chance to get ready for the evening. Along with the couple we had met in London there were a few new faces. They were very attractive faces. Everyone was so jovial as we introduced each other and shook hands. The three new additions were all so elegant and stylish. And despite the two rather roguish gentlemen giving Enrique a run for his money also in tubs, it was the woman who kissed both my cheeks that was the main attraction.

If I described her to a stranger it wouldn’t capture anything special about her. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, lightly sun-kissed skin. Her dress while clearly stylish was not particularly remarkable. I wasn’t the only one staring at her, Enrique and Nico were too. None of the parts nor the sum of them seemed impressive, but she was. At first I thought her name was Mercy, which would have been appropriate since if I was like Amber and into girls—well. Enrique quietly corrected me, it was Mercè.

It’s funny that at the beginning of the flight I was very worried about this meeting. I was also worried I didn’t really belong in my party. A little over 12 hours later, and a few drinks I’ll admit, I knew I belonged right there among these people. The stuffy diner has given away to a short smoke and coffee break. She smokes. So disappointing. But we did talk a bit over cappuccino. She almost came off as severe. Even this wasn’t enough to throw off my fascination. Let’s face it, if the cigarettes didn’t do that nothing was. Oh my God! Now I realize what it was. She had this total Greta Garbo thing going on. Strong, striking woman. I’d like to say she had the masculine presence, but that’s not quite right, she was very feminine. I saw Nico looking at both of us as she was flanked by boys falling over themselves for her.

They were a study of contrasts, not just physically, though that too. Nico has a very feminine aura and its acentuated with a light and bubbly persona. She’s not shallow, in fact you have to scratch far down to see her depth. Mercè is not light and bubbly. She is very heavy and demands to be taken seriously. She doesn’t smile or giggle. She understand small talk, but doesn’t really seem to find it useful. We spent most the short time we had together talking about my schooling, thoughts on impressionist artists and where I’d like to be five years. Writing it down now, it sounds like I had a job interview from the Mad Men era, but it was anything but boring or intimidating. I looked from Nico to Mercè and thought, ‘I wished there was a way I could be like either of them at the flick of a switch’. And that was before I even got to know her.

The night ended at a discotheque. Well it didn’t end there it ended back at Christine and Nico’s suite, but the business social part ended at a night club. It was literally between my guiding angels I finally danced like no one was looking. Of course that wasn’t actually true. Nico, Enrique, the two new handsome additions to our client and Mercè were all looking at me; some discretely, others not so. But for the first time I didn’t care. Christine never came over to fish me out, so I think I was doing pretty good. A personal best.

Actually judging from all the boys crowding us in I think we were doing pretty kick ass. And somewhere on that tiny shrinking dance floor I forgot this was a business social. I always suspected that my bosses could cut a rug. I knew Enrique could something something a rug, hubba hubba. Mercè was no slouch on the dance floor either. In fact I think she could give Nico a run for her money at amateur night. So much for the dark, severe legend. It appears she’s human after all, and that made her even more precious. Of course that could have been the wine talking.

Less precious was the hands coming into contact with me—my @$$. Was it Enrique looking for a round two of dinner, dancing and forgetful sex? Was it the Teutonic clients thinking I was a signing bonus? Maybe it was my vengeful boss exactly revenge for my public, but pitiful spank on her. I ruled out my other boss on account she was sipping on wine and talking to another client and Mercè had her hands one my waist the whole time.

In spite of the afore-mentioned mystery gropes, it was a great evening. Not a great business meeting, but a great evening in spite of the looming negotiation. In the wee hours of the night we exited the club. All us girls had our shoes in hand and we stopped for one last espresso before turning in. The boys started talking about football, I mean soccer, and girls at the club. I tried to not hear them. Christine and Nico chatted with the couple we had met in London. That left me with Mercè, smoking her cigarette with her skin glistening. I’d die to look that glamourous. Somewhere in the personal questions masquerading as small talk she let slip that Enrique’s mother was her step mom. I remember thinking, does anyone else know this? I promptly finished my drink listening to her tell me about grown up on the French Riviera and forgetting that important information.

When we finally parted, we all shook hand, kissed cheeks and pushed the meeting to brunch. Mercè have me a hug and kissed both cheeks leaving lipstick marks, which Nico teased me incessantly about. It was the first time I saw Mercè smile. Then we parted and made our way back to my boss’ suite where we partied a bit more. I didn’t question it since I was feeling pretty good at the time. Enrique was feeling pretty good, well at least he was looking pretty good. Of course he was surrounded by three somewhat intoxicated women, one of whom was shredding her dress.

Enrique and I were ushered out of the suite by one of it’s almost naked occupants. We made our way to the elevator. He asked me what I thought of Mercè. I told him flat-out, that when I grew up I wanted to be her. He smiled. He also lingered outside my door. I realized I had spent a whole day around him, but he hadn’t been the central thing in my thoughts. It was late at night, we were tired and maybe a bit drunk. He gave me a hug and kissed my cheeks before leaving for the night. I could blame the dancing, the champagne, my boss teasing me or his step-sister for inspiring me, but I kissed him. I kissed him because I wanted to. It wasn’t a good night kiss. It was a, I’m going to open the door and if you follow me in I’ll be waiting in bed for you kiss.

But none of that happened. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, I could see it in his eyes, he did. He just kissed my forehead and told me to sleep well—and left. The guy I still thought about sleeping with had just saved me from myself. I thought a lot better of him, and a bit less of myself as I turned in.

I had a weird dream with Enrique, Nico and Mercè in it. Also, Todd, but… I think it was Mercè’s stories of growing up on St Tropiez that set the stage. Everyone was in swimsuits on the beach. Well, at least half a swim suit for us girls. No one but me seemed to notice, by which I mean care. I looked over and saw someone on a boat. I don’t know how I saw them, dream logic. I swore it was my boyfriend. I totally needed to get to him. Nico told me I couldn’t go in the water with my couture swim suit, so I pushed it off and flung it to her. I ran to the water naked, like that would ever happen to swim after the boat. As I swam away from the shore the crystal clear water got cloudy and turbulent. I saw Todd wasn’t alone. His boat moved faster than I could swim. I panicked. The next thing I knew I was on the beach getting CPR from Enrique. I was cold and wet and people were laughing at me for swimming after the boat. I really need to stop drinking before bed.

I showed up mostly put together the next morning at my bosses’ suite. Nico had put out a dress for me. It was pretty. I put it one and it was very flattering on me. Less formal than the Grace Kelly dress from last night. It made my bust fuller and my waist smaller. I gave her a hug until I remembered my weird dream. I wondered if it meant I wish I could be these people’s friend rather than linked through business. And why did Todd, if it was him drive the boat away. Was it me? Was it my guilt?

When Enrique showed up, a little less fabulous than usually—tough night, Christine informed us that there wasn’t going to be a negotiation. The hard work Enrique and I had put in has swayed them to sign. Brunch would be a victory lap. I remember being so happy and hugging Enrique. I remembered the dream where he gave me mouth to mouth naked on the beach. It was getting unbearable being around him.

We were also informed that we each were getting two extra days in Paris on behalf of the company. Twenty-two years of next to no travel or vacations and now two in about a month. Three if you go back to Miami.

We met our party where they told us what Christine had let us know. We signed documents, shook hands, kissed cheeks and ate in celebration. I’m not sure if it was the hangover or the dream that had me a bit down. I saw Enrique talking to Mercè. I was OK with her keeping a distance. I didn’t feel like invasive small talk right then. They made an attractive couple though. OK, that was just a weird thought—even if true.

There was less drinking at this celebration, or at least more orange juice. Mercè eventually found her way next to me. Enrique had told her we had a couple of days to spend in Paris. She offered to show me around. I so wanted my phone to ring and hear Todd say to come home to his place. I said yes. There was no way I could say no to her.

And strangely the moment I did, my mood changed. Enrique disappeared then came and sat down with us. The two of them plotted to show me Paris in under 48 hours. I was more relaxed then, and it wasn’t just the Mimosas kicking in. It was starting to sink in. Four months I was unemployed and had no idea what I was going to do for money or in life. I had organized a store-room which brought me to the attention of some powerful people who had tasked me to make a deal with an elusive prospect. And now I sat in a cafe in Paris, sandwiched between two of the beautiful people—slightly drunk, and having answered both of those two questions. It was pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

Now if I could just get the same clarity in my romantic life. It would be nice to not constantly be surrounded by attractive people—actually it wouldn’t, but if I really wanted to make my relationship with my boyfriend for I had to be able to focus, just like I did with work. Enrique wasn’t going anywhere and after this deal I’d probably be seeing more of him, at work. Anything other than that, had to go. I know men and women can be friends without any other messy stuff. And the next two days would be proof that I could hang around Enrique without accidentally ending up in bed together. Besides wasn’t he the one that walked away from the drunken kiss that promised more last night. Strangely, Enrique was now one of my idols to control my desires.

The three of us ended up at a cafe as the others in our parties made their way home. We got into a lively discussion of art and literature, which reminded me of happier days in college. Enrique and I returned back to the hotel see our bosses off. Christine was very happy about how things went. She gave us huge props and told us to enjoy ourselves, we deserved it. Nico did some what the same though is a much lighter tone. She told me I could keep the dresses, they fit me better anyways. It was probably true, but nice to hear from her. And she said she had one last thing for me. In hindsight I really should not have been that eager to find out what it was. But I forgot for a second who I was talking to.

I’m sure everyone in the lobby heard my profanity if not the smack that caused it. “Great job, see you back in a couple of days”, hug, kiss, kiss. Enrique saw the big grin on my face. He was probably confused because he didn’t know why it was there. Nico had whispered in my ear, “You did awesome. I’m so proud of you Alex”. I know the media doesn’t take her that seriously, but I do. It meant a lot. Even the revenge spanking. And then they were gone. We turned in early so that the siblings could show me around the city of lights.

Thankfully, no distressing dreams. I checked my phone before I meet Enrique in the lobby. Nothing. We met up with Mercè for espresso and a croissant before that ran me all over touristy Paris. And ran me that did. In one day they took me to, in order: Luxembourg Garden, Notre Dame, Holy Chapel, The Louvre, Tuileries Gardens, Orsay Museum, Dome Church, Champ de Mars, the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and finally Champs Elysees.

I felt like I was really being teased by the pair. Only an hour in the Louvre? For a fine arts major? Thirty minutes at the Eiffel Tower? Mercè said I’d have to come back longer to see them properly, but now I could say I had seen them. I asked if I came back would she take me to the South of France. Of course she said. We exchanged mobile numbers and email addresses. I know I have just met someone significant in my life.

The next day wasn’t really a day in Paris. We had to check out of our rooms before noon. We met Mercè one last time for coffee before she took us to the airport. I was exceptionally emotional leaving Paris. This trip will live in my heart forever. It’s not only where I found out I was good at something, but proved it to people who really matter.

I hugged and kissed Mercè, then did it again. I didn’t really want to leave. Everything had been almost perfect there. Coming home meant not as perfect. My phone had not rung, there were no texts. A day and a half late. I wore PJs like Enrique and slept like the dead on the flight back. We hugged each other at JFK then went our own ways. I could still smell him on me as I looked down at my phone. Millions of emails, not one from him. I left a short text to him, “Back”. Friday came and went. I got messages from my boss, the crazy one, and my coworker. I got messages from my roommate and my crazy college friend. Gemma texted me millions of time then asked the same questions in my office. Saturday came and I got drunk and went dancing with my friends to celebrate my awesomeness.

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