The double doors open before I even reach them. "Oh my kitten, you look ravishing!" Cecilia smiles, arms welcoming me to her. Her long, voluminous hair swishes as she moves.
"Stop," I laugh, as we embrace. She kisses both of my cheeks. Her looped earrings bump my nose as she does. She feels warm to the touch.
We uncouple, and she takes the chance to look me up and down. "But why?" She smirks at me. "It's true. Look at you!"
She scoops up a few locks of my hair. "It's grown since we last met."
She gazes down at my chest. "As have other things!" Her eyes flash, expressing hunger. "I can't wait to see more."
"May I come in first?" I chuckle, shaking my head. "Or are we going to do it right here in the hallway?"
She laughs and obligingly steps back.
I walk into a staggering sight of a penthouse apartment. The first thing I see is an open, airy living space with panoramic windows from floor to ceiling. Blue skies dominate the view, with a strip of turquoise ocean peeking up from below. The floors, walls, and furniture are gleaming white. Pops of color punctuate the monochrome in the form of bright rugs, animal print throw pillows, neon orange stools at the kitchen island, and vivid paintings of female dancers and farmers. There's a large fireplace that divides the room. It's currently unlit due to the perfect temperature outside.
I marveled at the weather the moment I stepped out of the airport. It wasn't too hot or too cold. I couldn't even detect the feeling of temperature, it was that perfect. I had relied on Melissa to pack my suitcase and decide on my outfit, and she hit the bullseye. The sleeveless, white linen button down paired with the flowing spring-colored skirt feels like a flawless match for Miami.
***
"It's just for the weekend," Lily advised. "Cecilia has been pining for another session with you for weeks. She finally got impatient with your burgeoning schedule and put her foot down. You're going to fly out to be with her in Miami." She leaned back in the rolling chair at the head of the table in a classroom.
"I wasn't aware that we did house calls," I said. "Especially out of town." I remained standing, hoping to keep this short.
"We don't," Lily replied. "But a big patron gets whatever she wants when she decides to throw her weight around." She rocked her chair aggressively.
"What's expected of me?"
"Just your normal charming self," she said. I was trying to decide how much sarcasm was in that statement as she leaned forward. "She's just looking to wine and dine you. Just play along. Make her happy."
"So I'll be her trophy girlfriend," I said flatly.
Lily arched an eyebrow. "You don't like Ms. Cecilia?"
"It's not that." I wave my hand. "I haven't had to be on for this amount of time. I guess I'm just nervous."
Lily's expression softened. "Like I said: Just be yourself. You'll charm the pants off her again." I wonder if she meant that literally.
***
Mistress Cecilia gives me a tour of the rest of the penthouse. It's shocking how large the place is. I have my own spacious bedroom and private full bathroom. There are a few other doors that, I assume, lead to other bedrooms, but she doesn't bother to open them. Her master bedroom is the size of my old apartment. She has a California King for a bed, but it still seems tiny amidst the open space of the room.
We end out on the balcony, which is probably the most extraordinary aspect of the penthouse. There's enough space for a six person dining table, couches and chairs, and an actual pool and hot tub.
She notes my awestruck expression and chuckles. "Come. See," she beckons me to a glass railing.
Below is an expanse of beach, white and gleaming. The ocean is a serene patchwork of blue and turquoise. Puffs of whitecaps from the waves roll along. The distant sound of water crashing is like something out of a meditation app.
Between the beach and our building is a street that's bustling with restaurants and shops. I can see tiny people on the street, in swimwear and hats.
Cecilia pulls a few strands of hair away from her face. She leans contently against the railing. Her dress, covered in a green leaf pattern, whips in the wind. Her chunky, squared off sunglasses are dark, but don't fully conceal her eyes. I catch her sneaking glances at my body several times. We look out in silence. I listen for intermittent calls of seagulls.
"Wow," I say with a sigh, "you certainly live in style!"
She smiles and perches her sunglasses on top of her hair. "This is not my primary home. But it's nice to have when I'm here."
I look at her dumbfounded. This isn't even her only house. I try not to linger on imagining her wealth. I turn my attention to the clear sky, only just beginning to show the pink and orange hues of a sunset.
"So," she says, turning to me with penetrating eyes, "would you like to go down and have dinner?"
***
"Your daughter is at university? Studying what?" I ask, as I place my fork on the plate.
"Biological science," Mistress Cecilia replies.
"That's impressive."
Mistress Cecilia sighs. "She wants to save the world. She's an idealist. I really don't know where she gets that from. Certainly not me. Or her father."
"And your son?"
"Andres," she sighs again. "Now
he's
very much like his father. A little
too
confident in himself. He's in real estate. Mostly South America, but he's spending more time in Europe the past year or so. I saw him in Spain a few weeks ago."
