My Tomorrow (3 page)

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“What are you doing home so early anyway?  I didn’t expect you back for a few hours,” I said a few moments later, pulling back and leading him to the couch.

“It was a little slow tonight, so, being the low man on the totem pole, they sent me home.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, snuggling into him. 

“It’s fine.  I’d much rather be here with you,” he said, leaning down and kissing me. “Who needs to eat anyway?” He tried to laugh, but I knew it was forced.  Those few hours of pay we were missing out on was not a laughing matter, but since it was out of his control, that was all he could do. 

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.  I was dying to tell him about the interview, but since we’d arrived in the city, it felt like we’d hardly had any time together and I just wanted to enjoy this moment with him for a little longer, the way it used to be back in Iowa, before he worked twelve hour days and we were scraping by on Ramen and peanut butter sandwiches.

“So,” he finally said. “Shopping?” He gestured towards the brown bag. “Did you forget that we’re poor?”

“I needed some new stuff.”

“For what?  Lounging around the house?” he laughed and even though I knew he was joking, it hurt anyway. 

“No,” I snapped back. “For my interview tomorrow.”

“What?” he exclaimed, sitting up. “You got an interview?” I smiled and nodded as a grin spread across his face. “Tell me about it.  When did this happen?”

“They called late this afternoon.  It’s for an office assistant at an architecture firm.”

“Really?  That’s great,” he said and I couldn’t tell which of us was happier.

“I’m so nervous, but I’m excited.  I doubt anything will come of it though,” I said and I could feel my smile from earlier turning into a frown.

“Well, yeah, with that attitude nothing will come of it.  Stop being such a downer.  Have some faith in yourself and I’m sure they’ll see how amazing you are.”

“I wish I believed in myself as much as you do.”

“That’s why you keep me around, so I can put things into perspective.”

“True, very true.”  I laughed as I looked into his dark eyes, grazing my finger tips over his cheek. 

“I’m happy for you, Nat.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if it panned out?  Then you wouldn’t have to be my sugar daddy anymore.”

“I like being your sugar daddy,” he said, pulling me close to him.

“You smell like garlic bread, ya know that?  You need to get this off.”  I grinned at him coyly as I began unbuttoning his black work shirt.

He didn’t fight me.  Ethan never fought me and I continued to undo each button.  As my fingers moved over the fabric, I could feel his breathing picking up and when I brushed over his bare skin as his shirt fell open, a mass of goosebumps exploded on his chest.  Soon, all of the buttons were undone and the shirt fell open.  Slowly, I moved my hands over his chest and then peeled the shirt off so he sat in just his black slacks, looking entirely too sexy.  My fingertips traced over his skin, his stomach tightening as I brushed over his abdomen.  I watched as his chest began to rise and fall even faster and then suddenly he stood up, staring down at me before scooping me in his arms and walking me to the bedroom. 

He didn’t say anything as he laid me on the bed.  His dark hair was hanging on his forehead and the fire in his eyes as he stared down at me was hot.  He yanked at my pants with more force than I expected and a second later, they were on the floor.  Taking my hand, he pulled me up so my feet hung over the side of the bed.  He was on his knees before me a second later and then his hands were on me, pushing up my sides, running over my skin.  I didn’t stop him when he encouraged my hands over my head, lifting my shirt off me, tossing it to the floor so I was sitting before him in just my bra and panties.  He stood up then, quickly sliding out of his pants and then he was kneeling in front of me again, pushing my legs apart, settling in close to me as he reached around me, unclasping my bra before slipping his fingers in my panties, inching them off slowly.  His lips were on the skin of my inner thigh as he encouraged me to lie back onto the bed again.  I closed my eyes, putting everything behind us…all the stress we’d been under since we moved to New York.  I couldn’t take it anymore as his lips continued to dance on my skin.  I sat up and he was looking at me from his knees and I couldn’t wait any longer.  I pulled him to me, smashing my mouth against his as he fell on top of me and for the first time since moving to the city, I felt that anything was possible.

Four

The alarm went off at seven a.m.  Ethan was still sleeping, the sheet draped over his legs, leaving his bare torso exposed with one arm resting across his chest while the other was sprawled on the pillow, obviously spent from our activities the night before.  I grinned to myself and blushed when I thought about what we’d done.  I felt good though.  It’d cleared my head and I almost felt ready for the interview.

Ethan hadn’t even flinched at the alarm though and I did my best not to wake him as I crawled out of bed.  He looked so peaceful and he needed to sleep.  He’d been doing nothing but working since we arrived in New York and I hoped I would be too after the day’s interview. 

I grabbed a bowl of cereal before hopping in the shower.  When I was done, I dried myself off and slid on the new dress.  I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering if I’d made the right choice.  There was no doubt it was cute, but was it right for the interview?  Perhaps I should’ve gone with the pants suit.  I just shook my head.  There wasn’t anything I could do about it now.  The pants suit was on the rack at Bloomingdale’s and the dress was on my body. 

After my make-up was on and I’d dried and flat ironed my hair so it was long and sleek to the middle of my back, I put on the new necklace, slipped on the new pumps and sprayed a little perfume before looking one last time in the mirror, taking a deep breath and walking into the living room. 

It was just past eight-thirty and I needed to head out so I wouldn’t be late.  New York was still a mystery to me and I didn’t want to take a chance getting lost.  I’d looked up the right subways to take online and I prayed I’d get there without incident, but with my luck, I knew anything could happen. 

I grabbed my purse and peeked into the bedroom.  Ethan was still sleeping, only now he was stretched out on his side.  Tiptoeing inside, I leaned down, kissing him softly on the cheek.  His eyes stirred and opened a moment later. 

“I’m heading out.  I just wanted to say goodbye,” I said quietly and he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“Wow,” he said in the rugged voice I always found so sexy in the morning. “You look fantastic.”

“You think so?  You think this is okay for an interview?” I asked, the doubt creeping in again.

“Seriously.  You look hot,” he said, rubbing his eyes again.

“Stop,” I said, playfully smacking his arm.

“Whatever you spent was worth it, even if we get our electricity cut-off so we can pay for it,” he laughed and then he smiled, his face softening.

“Good luck, Nat.  You’ll be great.”

“I hope so,” I said softly, my eyes drifting down as the nerves kicked in.  I felt him sit up and then he was gently tilting my chin so our eyes met.

“You’re amazing, Natalie.  Just remember that,” he said, his voice unwavering and then he kissed me, his lips lingering just long enough for me to want to throw the whole interview aside and jump back into bed with him.

“I’ll try and remember that,” I said when he’d finally pulled away. “If I’m not back before you leave, have a good day at work.”

“Will do.  I love you,” he said from the bed and smiled and waved as I headed towards the door.

“Love you too.”

I could hear him lie back down and curl up in the blankets.  I wanted to join him. I wanted to crawl back under the warm covers next to him, but I had more pressing matters to attend to: landing a job.  I did a quick check to make sure I had everything and then stepped out into the entryway.  All was quiet at Doris and Gene’s and I had to admit I was a little disappointed.  I looked forward to Doris’s smiling face when I left the apartment and some of Doris’s cheer sounded good right about now to pump me up for the interview.  It was probably good she wasn’t in the hallway though.  I couldn’t afford to get caught up in a conversation and be late.

Outside, it was chilly for a September morning.  I regretted not grabbing a sweater, but even if I went back, I had nothing that would go with the dress anyway.  I tried to push the chill out of my mind and walked quickly to the subway entrance, holding my arms closely to try and ward off the cold. 

The platform and train were both crowded and I had to hold onto a railing as there were no seats available.  I couldn’t help but think had I been back in Iowa, some of the men on board would’ve offered their seats to one of the many women standing.  I had to keep reminding myself that this was New York, not Iowa. 

When the train finally made it to my stop, I walked quickly back to street level.  The buildings were almost suffocating, like I was trapped in a concrete valley.  The way the sunlight was filtered by the tall buildings made it seem later than it was and I instantly noticed this part of town had a more serious, powerful air about it.  It definitely lacked the excitement of Times Square and it seemed as if I was surrounded by nothing but businesspeople in power suits, which made me more self-conscious of my purple dress.  I just swallowed, trying to wash away the worry.  There was nothing I could do about it now except do my best to convince these people I was the one for the job. 

  It was almost nine-thirty and I needed to focus on finding the address.  I quickened my pace, doing my best not to look too lost, but I was obviously failing epically. 

“Can I help you find something?” a deep voice said and I turned to see a middle aged man in a brown suit standing beside me.  He had fuzzy gray hair and a trimmed beard. 

“I’m trying to find Taylor and Saben Architecture.  The address is 435 Whitehall Street.  I think I’m lost,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.

“Well, you’re not as lost as you think you are,” he said, pointing ahead. “Just head down that street and take a left.  You’ll see 435 on the side and it’s in that building.”

“Thanks.” I was barely able to get the words out before the man was off again.  He’d been nice, for a New Yorker. 

I hurried down the street in the direction the man had pointed me and turned left. Sure enough, I saw 435 in big gold letters attached to another tall building.  It was hard to tell one from the other because they all seemed to merge into one. 

I walked into the building and was impressed with the crisp, modern feel.  Golden hued marble lined the floor and everyone looked so serious.  I went over to the information desk where an older man with white hair was sitting. 

“Excuse me,” I said and he glanced up momentarily, but I knew he wasn’t interested in helping me when he returned his attention back to the paper he was reading.

“Yes?” he asked, obviously too busy to even look up at me. 

“I need to get to Taylor and Saben.  Can you direct me which way to go please?” I asked in my sweetest Midwestern voice, deciding killing him with kindness would be the best thing to do.

“Fourteenth floor,” he said, pointing to the elevators.

“Thank you so much for your help.” I laid the sarcasm on extra thick before making my way to the elevators.  The ride up seemed to take forever as it kept stopping to let people on and off, but it finally stopped on fourteen and I stepped off along with two other people.  Looking ahead, I saw a large reception desk with the name
Taylor & Saben
in fancy script hanging above.  I took a deep breath and walked towards the desk, trying to look casual and relaxed.  A woman with tortoise shell glasses, blonde hair that was tied back into a tight bun and a tailored black suit was sitting in a chair, a phone to her ear.  She looked up at me and raised her finger, acknowledging she’d be with me in a moment.  I smiled and waited, doing my best not to eavesdrop and I was glad when the woman finally hung up the phone.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes.  I’m Natalie Vasser.  I have an interview at ten o’clock.”

The woman began typing on a computer and then looked up.

“I see your appointment right here.  If you want to have a seat, I’ll let Leslie know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound relaxed when in reality my heart was pounding from anxious nerves. 

I turned and sat down in one of the straight backed gray chairs lining the wall, glancing at the large stone clock above the receptionist.  It was five minutes till ten.  I crossed and then uncrossed my legs a few times, unable to get comfortable.  My hands were folded on my lap and my thumb stroked the back of my hand nervously. 

“Miss Vasser,” the receptionist called. “Leslie’s ready for you.”

I smiled and walked over to the desk. The young woman stood up and I followed her to a conference room in the back of the office. 

“Leslie, this is Natalie Vasser,” the receptionist said once she’d led me inside. 

I smiled at the middle aged woman with curly brown hair, even though she intimidated the hell out of me in her dark blue pencil skirt, white blouse and matching silk scarf.  She looked impeccable and I feared again that I’d made the wrong choice with the purple jersey dress. 

“Hello, Natalie,” Leslie said, standing up from the mahogany oval table. “I’m Leslie Graham.  Please come in.  Thank you, Christa,” she said to the receptionist who left the room, shutting the door behind her.  The room was quiet and I looked around.  It was an extension of the meticulous office, with obviously high-end furniture and pictures of fancy buildings lining the walls. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Ms. Graham,” I said, mustering up as much confidence as I could, walking over and extending my hand. 

“Likewise, and please call me Leslie,” she said as we shook. “Please sit down.”

I sat across from Leslie and I did my best to look relaxed and calm, even though my insides felt like a scrambled mess and I was afraid if I opened my mouth I might throw up. 

“Thank you for coming in today,” Leslie began.

“Thank you for the interview,” I said and then winced inside, realizing how juvenile I sounded.

“Let’s go ahead and get started,” Leslie said, glancing down at the file in front of her. “You’re interviewing for a position as an office assistant for Mr. Saben.  Have you ever had any experience working in an office?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I said and I felt my heart start to sink, feeling the job slipping away before the second question had even been asked.

“That’s alright.  We’re willing to train if you’ve got the skills.  What makes you qualified for this position?”

I could hardly hear her over the sound of my pounding heart, but I swallowed deeply after formulating my response quickly in my brain.

“To start, I’m a quick learner.  I’m computer savvy and I’m very comfortable using Microsoft Office…Word, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said, rambling off the first things I could think of, but knowing it didn’t set me apart from anyone else from my generation.

Leslie nodded and jotted down something on the paper in front of her.

“The temp agency sent over a copy of your résumé.  It says here you have a B.S. in English from the University of Iowa.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.  I graduated last May.”

“And what would you like to do with that?” Leslie asked and I grew even more nervous.  Why was she asking about this?  What did this have to do with being an office assistant?

“I’d like to work in a library or at a publishing company eventually or perhaps go to graduate school first.”

“Well, you’re definitely in the right city to do all that,” Leslie said and looked up and smiled, but I didn’t know how to read her. 

“Yes, I am,” was all I could think to say.

“Let’s talk about the position here.  Taylor and Saben is one of the most sought after architectural firms in New York.  It’s a very busy place, so you have to be able to change directions on a dime.  You may need to work late, would that be a problem?”

“Not at all,” I answered quickly and Leslie nodded.

“As I mentioned, this position is temporary.  Mr. Saben is working on a large project at the moment, which requires extra support and the last assistant didn’t work out.  You’d be responsible for aiding Mr. Saben with his accounts, keeping track of appointments, filing and anything else he needs.  He has two other assistants, so it’s a shared responsibility, but still very demanding.”

“I love a challenge,” I replied, knowing I should’ve said something different the moment it came out of my mouth.  I sounded like a total cliché. 

Leslie looked as if she was about to say something when the door to the conference room swung open. 

“Leslie, I’m looking for…” a deep male voice said, and then stopped suddenly. “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you were with someone.”

I turned to see who the voice belonged to and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t taken aback when I saw him.  Tall and well built. It was obvious even through his gray button up shirt and black slacks.  His jet black hair was styled perfectly, cut short around the ears and it rested neatly on his collar.  And then I saw his eyes: intensely green.  The kind you don’t see very often and when you do, you stop and take notice.  There was no denying he was attractive, more than attractive, and when he smiled at me, it was even more obvious. 

“I’m conducting interviews for your new assistant,” Leslie said and I felt my mouth gape.  This couldn’t be Mr. Saben.  He looked too young, late twenties probably, early thirties at the most.  I’d pictured a partner in an established architectural firm to be an old man with white hair.  He was definitely not an old man and his hair was definitely not white.