The shampoo girl takes me back to the bowl to cleanse and condition my hair. I pull up a couple of magazines to ease the passing of the time while waiting for the stylist to come and free me from heat jail. As I sit my mind drifts off to thoughts of Troy. I’m always glad to see him, but this visit feels so much different from any other time that he’s in town. He’s usually either cold or highly sexual. This time it’s as if I can hear his heart. I don’t know if I’m in a place to deal with him, or if I’m just being delusional in a princess complex manner.
Conflicted is the best word to describe the state of my heart and mind when it comes to him. There’s always going to be a part of me that wishes for him to say that he wants me to be his. As it stands however, I believe that I’m one of many. Lisa and I talk about him almost every time he’s on his way in town. There’s no way that a man with that level of net worth, that travels to all the places that he does isn’t heavily involved elsewhere. I’ve never heard him speak of a significant other, but I’d never assume that I fill that role. We’ve been on a few nice company retreats and spent a few hot and heavy nights together over the years but I know that what he loves the most about me is my ability to change the minds of men.
When Troy and I first met in college I was dancing at a frat party that he attended. He recognized me from one of the business classes we had together and pulled me to the side that night. The guys thought that I was off giving him a VIP dance since his father donated a hall and a library, but we talked for hours about the last few lectures we sat through. I’ll never forget how much it felt like I’d finally found someone that understood me, and could see the hustle in what I was doing rather than label me an opportunistic whore. Opportunistic, maybe at that age, but I didn’t quite meet the criteria that a few tried to pin on me. I remember sitting next to him as opposed to on his lap and how sophisticated his scent was.
In mid revere, an aroma hits the air that seems to break up the scent of products and styling instruments and I keep my eyes closed to savor it. After a big deep breath I open my eyes to Troy sitting in front of me with his ankle up and across his knee. He’s got a book in his hands as usual in his downtime. I smile slightly and gaze over his frame. His shoulders are broad and strong, and he’s got dimples you can see even when he’s not smiling. I look at his wrist and notice he’s wearing the bracelet I made him my senior year in college shortly after our first encounter to keep the negative energy at bay. I wonder instantly what’s on his mind but we never discuss anything until we’re in private, especially if it’s personal.
He looks up and catches me staring at him. He flashes a smile and looks at his watch. My stylist sees his gesture and rushes to get me in the chair. On my way I ask him if I should wear my hair up or down.
“Just off your face sweetheart; come to my office when you’re finished.”
“Will do, I’ll see you shortly!” he kisses my cheek and leaves with a security guard leading the way.
I attempt a conversation about the latest BRAVO television show that I catch up on during my evening run on the treadmill, and I realize all her replies are very formal and reverent. I relax in my chair and shift the conversation to ask her about herself.
“So how long have you lived here…” I take a look at the name plate on her station. “…Raquel?”
“For three years ma’am this May, it was beautiful when I got here but the winters are just so cold!” her smile is warm and inviting. She tells me how she took this job specifically answering the ads seeking a stylist that could execute a Dominican blow-out. I let her know that was my personal request and we share a few laughs before I’m rushing out of the chair, grabbing my lunch and heading towards Troy’s office.
Down the elevator and through the lobby I go, greeting guests as I move quickly and pass out a few complimentary incentive cards to unfamiliar but extravagant looking individuals. Security moves me into the Executive Suite and rushes me to his conference room door. I give the guard closest to me a puzzled look and he whispers that there are more individuals present than previously accounted for. I take that into consideration and walk in as he’s closing the deal and charm the signatures out of them.
“Gentlemen, this is Amara. She’s who you’ll be dealing with moving forward as the on-site contact. Anything you tell her will get directly to me. My only gatekeeper” The men sitting at the table give smiles and looks of uncertainty as they come to realize that I’m the Director of this facility. I shake hands firmly and begin my normal speech. I go over the basic numbers and assure them of my credentials.
“Sirs, we’ve yet to close out a day in the red. All our stock is held privately and our books are just screaming for expansion…” I complete my spiel on the edge of the Mahogany conference table perched with a pen in hand extending my arm towards the one that seemed like he doubted the deal the most. I bat my eyelashes and smile sweetly while looking into his eyes.
“We look forward to this new relationship.” The gentleman replies and all of his colleagues nod in agreement. Everyone’s signature is collected and Troy’s assistant/notary moves from the corner of the room and stamps all of the duplicates quickly then makes his way out of the room towards the legal department.
The deal we just closed gets us over three million dollars in advertising revenue to allow ESPN to tape our exclusive MMA fights here at the casino. After the men are escorted by our Guest Relations Manager on a pleasure tour of the facility, Troy helps me down from the corner of the table and holds me close. I rest my head on his chest and hear his heart beating rapidly. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and rubs it gently. I look up and notice him staring off into space.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask him quietly enough that there’s no chance of anyone overhearing the question.
“Nothing just working out some things in my head. I like to touch you when I plan. You’re my muse so to speak” I feel his energy shift and his body heat rise. My whole body starts to purr, but I know we’ve got more work to do. I put my hand under his suit jacket and run my nails reassuringly across his back.
“I know you’ll tell me what’s going on when you’re ready for me to work on it.” I give him a final squeeze and start to pull away.
“You know I will. By the way I got us a table in the steakhouse in five minutes.”
“I haven’t even finished my lunch. I barely got a chance to smell it.”
“Perfect let’s go now.” Troy opens the door of the executive suite and gives me his arm as we walk the service hallways to the restaurant. As we walk through the kitchen breezeway, we greet the staff and call for the host on the radio. The steakhouse has private rooms that some of the high rollers reserve for special celebrations or to entertain their clients. There aren’t many booths and there is a stage in the center of the restaurant. This afternoon there isn’t much of a crowd so Troy decides to take a table on the main floor.
No matter how many times I walk the halls with Troy I’m always impressed with how far we’ve come as a business. To consider I’ve successfully made the transition from the pole to the board room and taken the skills of my previous hustle and applied them to my current career. This shouldn’t be. If things panned out the way that they were predicted to, I should be turned out by some pimp, high on drugs and toothless. As soon as the thoughts cross my mind, I start to wonder if Troy is somehow the pimp in this fairytale I call my life.
Private Thoughts in Public Forum 