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A Night in Paradise
by Stephanie Rose
(Two's company. Is more a crowd?)
~~~
"Oh God! This guy's looking for a partner to go to the swinger's club with him?"
Portia Kane squinted at the personal ad in the Miami XChange weekly newspaper. Though she loved the XChange's political editorials, and regularly read its vast coverage of the legendary Miami nightlife, she especially loved perusing the erotic personal ads in its back pages.
She read the personal ad aloud.
"Single Black/Italian professional male, seeking female companion to attend couples night at The Paradise. No contact, no strings, no games. I just need a female escort. Appena mi fiducia."
Seated in her spacious, ultra-modern kitchen, Portia tapped her neatly-manicured fingernails on the midnight-black granite-topped island stationed in the center of the room. Suddenly pensive, she rose, took a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, walked out the sliding doors just off her breakfast nook and stepped out onto her balcony.
Fifteen floors up from the sizzling-hot South Beach sand, she relaxed in her high-rise, luxury condominium building. She took a long sip of her cool drink and stared at the expansive waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun was just beginning to set and its warm golden tones mixed with and cascaded into the cool blue waters.
A budding writer and journalist, Portia's mind began to swirl with questions. "So this guy, this random guy, wants a female escort into the hottest, most exclusive African-American swingers club in Miami? Hell, the hottest, most exclusive African-American swinger's club in the world? And with no strings? He just wants an escort?"
Portia set the bottle on the edge of the concrete balcony and ran her hands over her pixie-length, jet-black, relaxed tresses. Reminiscent of Halle Berry's legendary haircut, her short hair perfectly complimented her angular, but still soft features and deep golden bronze skin.
Then she tried to ease the pounding excitement rising through her by smoothing down her light cotton summer dress. The fitted garment hugged and caressed her gentle curves and its soft, white color highlighted her golden bronze skin.
Thinking about going to the most exclusive Black swinger's club in the world, most likely filled with sexy, beautiful women, sent a luscious tingle all through her body. A lesbian at heart, she leaned against the balcony's steel railing and imagined sexy female bodies, from chocolate to vanilla, from slender to curvy, all joined together in erotic bliss. Her thick nipples hardened, straining against the soft fabric of her dress.
"I've always wanted to go to the Paradise," she mused as the warm, ocean breeze wafted over her soft skin. "It's been on my mind ever since I read that article about it on that Internet message board. And it's true that men can't come in unescorted. Single women are always welcome, coupled or not, but every single man has to have at least one female companion."
Portia began to pace back and forth. "But that place is so exclusive! How does this guy even plan to get in? And why is he advertising for a partner in the city paper of all places?"
She snapped her fingers, insight rushing to her. "Of course. He's a fake. A wannabe. Definitely not an 'insider.' I mean, yeah, I want to go to The Paradise, but not with some phony flake."
A smug smile spread over Portia's face as she grabbed her bottle of water and went back into the kitchen. She sat back down at the island, vowing to forget about the preposterous proposition, but something made her look at the ad again.
Sighing, she picked up the paper. This time, she studied the words more carefully, especially the last phrase, "Appena mi fiducia."
She thought for a moment, crinkling her tiny, pert nose. "Hmm. He could very well be a flake," she said. "But would a flake use foreign words in a personal ad?"
She jumped up, jogged into her home office and sat down at her computer. The machine already on, she clicked into a popular search engine and typed in the foreign phrase.
A second later, its translation popped up onto the screen.
"Well, I'll be. It's Italian!" She squinted at the display. "It means, 'Just trust me.'"
She paused, leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment. Then she grinned. "Well, I can at least call his voice mailbox. Just to see what his voice sounds like. That'd be pretty harmless."
She went into the living room, grabbed her cell phone out of her handbag and went back into the kitchen. Checking the paper, she first dialed the main personal ad contact number, then punched in the man's individual voice mailbox number.
"I just have to see what kind of man is trying to spend a night in Paradise."
~~~
Later that evening, corporate attorney Antonín Giansante sat at his dining room table sipping on a cool glass of Chardonnay as he carefully reviewed the large stack of corporate and financial documents in front of him.
Ever since he was a young boy, Antonín was fascinated with money and finance. First owning a lemonade stand in Miami as a child, then owning and maintaining a mini-conglomerate of paper routes, he learned the value of a dollar early in life.
However, his dream of being a financial mogul was almost derailed just as early. Born to an Italian diplomat for a father and an African-American school principal for a mother, his parents urged him to complement his high monetary goals with high educational goals.
However, never daunted by any challenge, Antonín agreed and mapped out his career path early, graduating from high school at sixteen and college just four years later. Going straight to law school, he knew he could make the most impact for his people if he studied the way money flowed into and out of the world's economy.
Now, just a mere ten years later, as a full partner in the successful Cole, Borgess, Deveraux and Giansante law firm, the firm he helped build right out of law school, he headed up its Transaction and Finance Department. The lead attorney on the Synergy Corporation merger, Antonín was the point man on joining two of the most successful African-American manufacturing companies in the world.
As Antonín studied the thick stack of documents, he reflected back on when he first delegated the preliminary due diligence to one of his junior corporate associates. Now that the merger was gaining steam, he personally wanted to verify all of the documents before the merger could proceed.
He'd already spent the better part of the day completing the document review when all of a sudden his cell phone chimed, alerting him to a new text message. He picked it up from the table and checked the display.
"Hmm. The XChange magazine?"
He read the text quickly. "I have a new voicemail message."
