Two years ago, December 24th, 2007.
*
I was slouching over the bar counter, staring straight down into my martini. Here I was Christmas Eve, drunkenly contemplating life, and why I was sitting here so alone.
So what if I was the successful vice president of my male-oriented company? So what if I lived in a high-rise apartment complex in downtown Manhattan? None of that meant anything without someone to share it with. And lately, work had consumed my life.
My last relationship ended the minute I left college and entered the real world in 2005. I couldn't even remember what sex feels like. What happened to my life?
I was too consumed, and in all honesty, too drunk to notice someone slide into the bar stool next to me. When the person spoke up, I jumped and spilled my drink onto my designer business skirt.
As I started to dab a napkin onto my lap, I felt her hand reach down and start patting me. I looked up at her incredulously.
"Hi," she said. "I'm sorry I scared you." Drunk or sober, I had never seen such a beautiful girl- or person. She had long chestnut hair, that fell to her hips, mile-long legs that she showed off in a short skirt, large breast that filled her beautiful business blouse to the brim.
"Oh, no, it's fine. I'm just too self-absorbed to notice my surroundings," I said, adding a bashful 'thank you' for her help.
"Really, what's the matter? Something another girl can help with?" she asked quizzically.
"Not really... I mean I'm alone on Christmas Eve for the second year in a row. How do you help that? Well, so are you, but God, you're beautiful, why are you a-"
She cut me off mid-babble. "This isn't about me. You are stunning. I can't imagine why a girl like you would be alone. Please, do elaborate."
She was perfect. Her emerald eyes seared right through me, as if piercing my soul, searching for an answer.
"I.. well, I can't find time for a man, and even if I could- men just seem to run when they find out I am more successful than they probably ever will be. I know how cocky I seem, but it's the truth. No man will even hit on me at my office, because they are too embarrassed that I outrank them."
Her eyes lit up. "Interesting. So you're going crazy sexually?"
"Well, yes," I admitted. "
"I'm Grace Micelli, what is your name?"
"Adrienne Troy."
"Pleased to meet you Adrienne. I live in the hotel above, would you like to come up and continue our conversation where it's quieter?"
I wondered where her boyfriend was. She must have one.
"Sure," I said.
We made our way through the Christmas garland-clad bar, to the shimmery gold elevator, and up to her beautiful suite that overlooked the city. She offered me another martini from her personal bar, to which I accepted.