We Could Be Lovers

Cameron ~ One

"Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say"

~Mitch Albom

According to my boss, Nolan Walker my presence was expected not only at tonight's gala but at the huge wedding tomorrow – not that I had a problem with that but being a social butterfly was just not my style. At Walker Deviant Glass Designs I was the bouncer, receptionist, planner – pretty much jack in the jack-in-the-box. Wind up the crank and out I came. I loved my job and Nolan Walker was a hard-ass employer but he was full of respect for his employees. I was blessed to be his assistant no matter how demanding the job was. There was a reason the man owned a million-dollar company, he was proof hard work paid off.

I could appreciate that in all honesty, being needed with big expectations of 100% return was a power trip for me. The job paid better than I could have ever hoped for; yet at the end of the day I needed solace. A stiff drink, an expensive cigar, and a sketch pad.

Speaking of sketching I looked across my bedroom and saw my pad lying on the floor by my nightstand. As usual, I had fallen asleep and tossed it over the side of the bed. I looked at it longingly as I looked at the neon blue of my nightstand clock. I had to get in the shower and get my ass dressed or I was going to be more than fashionably late. I worked the knot on my tie loose as I looked through the selection of designer jeans and tee shirts I had for a casual night out. I had worked ten hours today so it was going to feel so good to slide into something other than a business suit. Reaching on the top shelf I pulled down a pair of my favorite Levis, they were faded but still good enough for this gala with the right shirt. I pulled out a deep charcoal gray shirt. I would go without a tie. My one pleasure for tonight was no tie. I loved a man in the right suit and tie. It was sexy as hell but wearing a tie for hours got to me by the end of each day.

I pulled off the dark purple tie and put it away, then unbuttoned my shirt. Looking in the huge hanging mirror across from my closet I saw myself. I slowly dropped the suspenders I wore with my slacks. As I took off my shirt I saw all the dark hair on my chest. At one time I had hated having chest hair but it drove men as well as a few women crazy, so I no longer felt the need to have it waxed. My shirt dropped onto the floor and then I dropped my slacks to the floor and tossed them on the pile. I had a lady who came in once a week that cleaned and took care of my dry cleaning. I would add them to the weekly pile later. I ran my hands through my short dark hair, god I wanted a cigar, but as I glanced at the clock once more I realized that would have to wait until later.

I hurried through my shower, blow-drying my short hair, and dressing quickly. I had wanted to shave but a bit of shadow didn't matter I was going to this gala alone so there was no date to impress. I patted on some new cologne that smelled almost as good as being at the beach. I grabbed my wallet and phone. A cab was waiting to take me to The Butterfly House as I walked through the glass doors of my building to join all the nightlife of Manhattan.