****My first story... let me know what you think!!****
I struggled to keep up with Jaysen as he gave me the speed-tour of the office. Almost tripping over my heels, I caught myself by grabbing ahold of a cubicle wall.
"Sweetie, you need to keep up." Jaysen chided, turning only for the briefest of moments before pressing forward. I quickly adjusted the strap of my brand-new Jimmy Choo shoes and jogged to keep up.
This was my dream internship in the fashion world. Not even my inexperience in heels was going to stop me from learning the layout of the massive Flair magazine headquarters.
Yeah, that sounds really weird. To be a fashion major without ever really wearing heels.
But that was what I loved about the industry; it was broad and ever-changing. I wasn't quite sure where I would end up, whether a writer, editor, or stylist, focusing on men's or women's fashion, but I was willing to try it all. That was what was so exciting about this newly developed internship through the NYU school of design; I was going to be rotating between two internship programs at two very different magazines: Flair and Gent.
I was starting at Flair for my first week, and I felt prepared for what I was in for. I knew it was a lot, and I mean a lot, of grunt work. Coffee runs, mail distribution, lunch orders... but it was what was required, and they were skills that I would need to master for both locations. That is what made Jaysen's tour so important; I needed to learn where everyone and everything was located, and fast. I couldn't be confused about this place when I learned about Gent next week.
"So down that way is accounting, yawn," Jaysen said, mock-yawning, "but over here is the most important part of this entire place." He paused at the doorway for effect. "The heart of Flair and women's fashion."
This is obviously his favorite part of the tour.
"Vivienne Caldwell's office." He said, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. I peered around him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the legend herself. Instead, all I could see was a long marble hallway with double glass doors at the end. A receptionist sat, her mouth moving although we could not hear her words, typing away on a computer. The desk blocked any further view of Vivienne's special lair, but the aura was definitely present.
My heart was thundering out of my chest, my palms sweating.
"I know, it's overwhelming being so close to greatness." Jaysen sympathized with a sigh.
"Anyway, we need to go and make the mid-morning coffee run. It's Monday morning staff meeting; you missed the chaos of her arrival this morning since you were doing intake paperwork. But the staff meeting will get you a good glimpse at how she likes her ship run." He said, turning and walking away. I turned one more time, looking longingly at the office I wished to be in, before diligently following him.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I am not a weak person. I work out, I stay in shape. I don't even just do cardio, I lift!
But apparently that doesn't matter, because carrying eight Venti coffees through the lobby, on the elevators up to the 53rd floor and then to the conference room was making my arms burn. I knew the price I would pay if I dropped any of them, and it wouldn't be monetary. I pushed through the pain as Jaysen carried another eight coffees without breaking a sweat.
I am going to need to change up my arm workouts.
"Alright, hon, just set them right here and then we will match them to the seats." He said hurriedly, glancing at the clock. Everything had to be just-so as we arranged the room. The sixteen people that sat at the head table were the most important editors and staff writers, as well as Vivienne. They had each earned their own individual coffee.
"Now, our job is to just stand here and be helpful when asked." Jaysen informed me. And so I stood, patiently waiting as the staff entered. They chatting lively to each other and taking their respective places. 9:59, one minute before the meeting was officially beginning, Vivienne Caldwell entered the room and it fell silent for a brief moment, as if it were in awe of her presence, before a chorus of "Good morning, Vivienne's" erupted.
Vivienne was tall, blonde, and gorgeous. She had spent her former years as a model and was very successful. She had maintained that figure even through managing a highly profitable global magazine. I couldn't stop myself from staring at her. I found my eyes lingering on her tiny waist, large breasts, and taught ass.
Snap out of it, Rachel!
I came back to earth, my face flushed from my thoughts.
Where in the hell did that come from?
Confused about my sudden sexual pull to a woman, something I hadn't experienced before, I listened carefully while keeping my head tilted slightly toward the floor, desperately trying to reign in my suddenly wild and rabid libido.
It wasn't that I was closed-minded, I had never found myself reacting to the presence of a woman in the same way I had reacted to attractive men. I had a TA in my biology class that caused me to develop a stutter just by being in the same room as him.
But Vivienne was a whole new level.
I shifted my feet, trying to relieve some of the pain of the heels, and chanced a glance up. Vivienne was looking at me, assessing me. My heart rate skyrocketed. I glued my eyes to my feet, my face flushing.
How can she have such an impact?
Is it just fear?
She was gorgeous, and powerful. Maybe that was my problem; I was just intimidated.
Yeah... just intimidated.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Oh, goddamn it." I swore angrily, clicking violently at my computer. My internet wasn't working. After the longest first day ever, this was the last thing I needed.
Shit.
I reset the router, again. I glanced at the clock, nervous. My window was approaching. If I missed it, I was going to miss rent.
Fuck!
My mind raced. I needed to be able to get online. I needed to pay my bills.
I need to strip in front of strangers.
Frantic, I grabbed my bag. Remembering what Jaysen had said earlier about people staying late at the office, I decided that was where I was headed.
I would find some closet somewhere, get online, strip, make my rent money, and be done.
Easy as that.
My leg was tapping nervously as I rode the subway. I glanced at my watch constantly; I was certain I looked like some sort of drug addict with my erratic sketchy behavior.
I made it to the building without incident, and flashing my security badge I was let in. The elevator seemed to move slower than it had during the day, but it made it to the 80th floor and I rushed through the doors. The office was dark, except for a few lights where the cleaning crew was working. I smiled at them and gestured toward an office that had already been cleaned.
"I left my keys at home. Can you help me?" I asked, putting on my best 'damsel in distress' look and showing them my badge. The old woman smiled and let me in. I thanked her and closed the door behind me, locking it softly and setting up my equipment.
Before going live, I took a few moments to breathe and get in the right headspace. The last thing I wanted was to do a shitty job and make no money at all. I was risking everything by being here, but it was my last resort.
I am getting a waitressing job after tonight.
I put on my mask, a trademark of mine, and began the broadcast, positioning myself in front of the desk and facing the camera, my computer next to me so I could monitor my progress.
I slipped out of my dress slowly, one strap at a time, running my fingertips along my arms. I watched my computer screen as my regular viewers popped in, their messages of encouragement lighting up.
"Oh, it's been a long time, Hardlaw69," it had taken me a lot of practice to say their usernames in a sexy voice, but I had finally gotten the hang of it. I watched as my earning hopped up $50.
"Oh baby, you're so generous." I thanked him, letting my head fall back as I cupped my breasts. My dress had settled at my hips. I turned, grinding my body to the sultry music emanating from my computer, and helped the dress fall to the floor. I brought my arms up to fluff my blonde hair, knowing that the small tattoo on the underside of my right bicep was visible. A small outline of the sun, a drunken mistake, but something that my regulars knew me by.
I shook my ass a little, my fingers looping beneath the lacy thong I was wearing. I turned again, grinding my hips and watching as more people joined the chat. I was up to $100.
"Come on now, get me to $200 and we can play with my tits." I encouraged. Dirty talk in any other context horrified me, but here I was an actress. I wasn't Rachel, I was Chelsie.
I rocked my body a little more as the numbers rose to $200.
"Oh, you do want to see them tonight." I teased, slowly dropping the straps of my bra down my arms, reaching around my back and undoing the clasp. I slid the clothing off and let it drop to the ground.
I grabbed my chest and kneaded my large, full breasts. I moaned and gyrated my hips. I gave a subtle glance to the counter; $300.
