excitement.
“I’m
ready,” I said, feeling a bit breathless. I could sense him smiling over the
phone.
“I’m
so glad,” he said, his voice full of unrestrained delight. “Come on up.”
***
“So
how does this work?” I asked, snuggling up beside him on a couch in his
library. The walls were mahogany paneled, and in front of us was a painting of
a woman lounging in her lace underwear on a cream colored chaise longue,
looking out of the window of a sundrenched room. I took in the 70s style bed,
the gold and orange décor, and immediately recognized the place.
“That’s
the Chelsea Hotel,” I said excitedly.
“Yes,”
Bradley said. “It is. Now I want you to imagine yourself as that woman. Picture
everything she might be feeling, thinking, seeing. I want you to get lost in
her world.”
I
looked at him curiously and asked, “and then what?”
His
rang his fingers along my arm and gave me a mysterious smile. “You’ll see,” he
said.
For
a moment, I sat there in silence and imagined myself running my hand along the
soft upholstery of the chaise longue, feeling the sun warm my skin, waiting
there in my lingerie for Bradley to come rock my world. And then it happened.
My head started spinning, and my vision blurred. When it finally cleared, I
found myself in black lace underwear, sprawled out on a chaise longue. In the
Chelsea Hotel. With the sunlight streaming in through the window.
There
was a black lace dress on the four poster bed, along with a faux fur shrug, a
shoe box and an envelope.
I
walked over and picked up the envelope. It had my name written on it. With
trembling hands, I ripped it open.
Put on the dress
etc and come meet me in the lobby.
Bradley
I
did as instructed, and then took a good look at myself in a gold-framed oval
mirror. The lace dress was skin tight and hugged all of my curves; my pale skin
was visible between the intricate frills and designs of the lace. The knee high
black leather stiletto boots I found in the box were the perfect size and
gleamed in the light. The faux fur shawl added a touch of elegance and class to
an otherwise over-the-top sexy outfit.
When
I came out of the elevator into the lobby, I was struck by how quiet the place
was. I looked around. There were a few people sitting about, chatting or
reading, but otherwise the place was empty. Then I saw him. Bradley was
lounging on a leather couch, dressed in black tie, in an animated conversation
with a dapperly dressed man with a shock of thick unnaturally white hair. As I
approached them, Bradley turned towards me, and his eyes caressed my body. Our
eyes locked for a moment, and then I turned my gaze towards his companion. And
my heart stopped. Andy Warhol. He gave me a mega-watt smile full of brilliant
white teeth, and with his eyes twinkling with delight, he stretched out his
hand for me, and I took it. His grasp was firm and warm.
“It’s
a pleasure to meet you Melanie,” he said, in a smooth but animated voice. He held
his arm out as a link for mine. “The cameras are all set up,” he said. I looked
at him in confusion.
“Cameras?”
I asked.
He
smiled warmly at me. “Yes, my dear. I’m doing a photo shoot of you and Bradley.
You really do make such a beautiful pair. Now, come. Let’s do this. Everyone
deserves their 15 minutes.”
Bradley
sidled up to me and whispered in my ear. “I told you I was going to take you on
an adventure.”
I
looked at him in awe. He grinned at me and said. “And baby, this is just the
beginning.”
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