New Beginnings

CHELSEA

The next morning, traffic is frustratingly slow, and I’m relieved when I finally get to sit down in my office and get to work. I have so many ideas I want to prepare before my meeting with Alec this afternoon.

I work until noon and then head to the kitchen, where some of the other agents and assistants are already gathered for their own lunch breaks.

“Hey, Chelsea,” one of the other agents greets me. “Pull up a chair and join us!”

I sit next to her. “Hi. It’s Madison, right?”

“Yeah, but friends call me Maddie.” She smiles. She seems sweet. She’s my age, with brown hair and dark eyes that smile in sync with her mouth.

“So, some of us are going out for a drink tomorrow night. Want to join us? We just go to the bar across the street after work.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” It could be a good idea to make some new friends. My best friend in Miami was a Cuban girl named Esperanza, Estie for short. We grew up together, and we were close up until I moved.

Now we send texts and Snapchats to each other, but we don’t have much more contact. I mean, I get it; I moved far away, and she’s busy with her two little girls.

I’m actually her oldest daughter’s godmother. Marina is four, and such a cute kid. Her younger sister Clara was born while I was roaming around the country, not knowing where I’d be from one day to the next.

I don’t think Estie ever really forgave me for not being there when she had her second baby.

I chat with the other girls while we eat, getting excited for a night out. Apparently they go out together every week, either on Wednesday or Friday, depending on how much work everyone has through the week.

“So, I heard you’ve almost landed Alec Oberlin,” Maddie says as we’re all finishing our lunch, wiggling her eyebrows at me. “That was fast. First day, already wheeling and dealing.”

I laugh. “Has Kelly been gossiping?”

“Yeah. You’ll learn soon enough, there are no secrets around here.” Maddie’s face goes a little more serious then. “Kelly also said he might’ve done something to upset you.”

“Oh.” I blush. “That was nothing, really.”

“I’ve heard the guy’s a player,” she says in a commiserating tone. “If you want someone else in the room with you when you make the pitch, just say the word. Safety in numbers, right?”

“You’re sweet to offer, but I’ll be fine. I can handle Alec Oberlin.”

“Attagirl,” she says with a grin.

ALEC

I still can’t get the feisty blonde out of my head. I woke up this morning to messy sheets after having a wet dream about her, like some goddamned teenager. But I still remember the dream; it was so hot, I didn’t even mind the mess.

I beat off to the memory of her in the shower, and then struggle all morning to focus on work instead of fantasizing some more.

I can’t remember ever being this obsessed over a girl before, and it irks me, knowing I can’t have her. I love a challenge, and I wouldn’t mind working for Chelsea’s attention, but not when I’m this fucking horny!

It feels like I haven’t had sex in years when in reality it’s only been three days. I was at a bar Saturday night, and I fucked the hot bartender in the bathroom during her break.

Maybe that’s what I need now, to screw someone else to get Chelsea out of my head. But I honestly don’t want to. It’s weird.

I have fucked more women than I can count. What can I say? I was wild back in college. I cast my mind back to my wildest day, the end-of-summer party before senior year.

The party started at noon, and the first thing I did was have sex with a hot freshman chick. I can’t remember her name anymore, or even what she looked like, just the rush of being a sexy senior who could have anyone I wanted.

A little later in the afternoon, I got a blowjob from some dude’s girlfriend while a lot of people watched. Not even half an hour after that, my best buddy and I tag-teamed a cheerleader.

As it got dark, they started blasting club music, and I got a private lap dance from some tattooed chick who ended the dance riding me. Then I ended the night in the hot tub, having a threesome with two blondes with huge, fake boobs.

Like I said, I was wild back then. These days I still like to play and sleep around, just with fewer threesomes and buddy sex than in college.

I honestly don’t know how many times my buddy Blaine and I fucked chicks together. And no, we’re in no way gay or attracted to each other; there was always a girl between us when we were naked together.

Blaine is actually married now and has a baby on the way. Oh, how times change! So many of my college buddies have coupled up and settled down recently; sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something.

I know I have to keep my professional face on during today’s meeting, or else Chelsea might give me the boot, so I squeeze in one more quick solo session before putting on my suit, calling my driver, and heading to the Lockwood offices.

When I get there I’m greeted by the same receptionist as yesterday, who gives me a searching look before guiding me to a meeting room. “Thanks,” I say, making a point to look her in the eyes. “Kelly, right?”

“That’s right,” she says. For someone so tiny, she can look kind of fierce when she wants to. “Ms. Tanner will be right in.” She pauses. “We’re all very protective of Ms. Tanner here.”

“Good to know?” I say, nonplussed.

“I hope you two will arrive at a very positive, professional relationship.” She purses her lips and turns away. Weird. Shrugging, I admire the view of Lake Michigan from the conference room window for a few minutes while I wait.

Coming from New York, I assumed a lake would be less impressive than Manhattan’s endless ocean and river views, but I think this lake might actually be bluer than the Atlantic.

Behind me, I hear the door open and close, and the smell of Chelsea’s perfume slowly fills my nostrils. She smells sweet, feminine, like a spring day in Paris.

Pushing all unprofessional thoughts to the back of my mind, I turn around and greet her. She looks heavenly, today wearing dark pants and a white shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top to frame her boobs perfectly. God, how I want to reach out and touch her.

Instead, I sit down at the table and start pulling out my drawings.

We spend the next two hours going over my ideas, her adding in details that will drive up the price and make the residential spaces feel even more luxurious. The woman really knows what she’s talking about, and she has good taste!

While we’re going over my sketches, she opens up her laptop and starts making graphic drawings, a perfect representation of everything we’ve been talking about.

Safe to say, I’m shocked. Chelsea is just as talented as she is beautiful, apparently.

“Is it normal for real estate agents to do graphic design?” I look at her with an amused smile.

“No,” she blushes. “But I have a degree in graphic design. I never worked as a designer, but I used to do some digital artwork and ads at my old firm, and I love being part of every step of the process in new properties I’m working on.”

“Impressive. I’m actually the same. I’m not just interested in the business that goes into developing new properties, like my family. That’s why I studied architecture, so I could be a part of deciding what the finished buildings look like.”

“Who would have thought?” she smiles.

“I know, right?” I laugh. “So, what made you go into real estate and not design if that’s your degree?”

“Well, I always knew I wanted to work with my father at his firm. He’s a real estate agent in Miami. His firm, Tanner & Co, is smaller than Lockwood, but he’s quite successful.

“I came to work with him sometimes when I was a little girl, and I just knew I wanted to help people find their dream homes, like he did.

“I only studied design because I knew it would be a valuable asset at the firm; we wouldn’t need to hire outside designers for posters, campaigns, and digital mockups.”

“That’s sweet. Is your family still in Miami?” The more we talk, I’m getting more and more curious to actually know this woman.

“Yeah, my parents still live there. I don’t have any siblings, so we were all pretty close.”

“Then why’d you move?” She looks at me like she’s contemplating whether to answer. Was my question too forward? Surely it’s a normal enough thing to ask. I don’t understand why I’m so nervous just making small talk with this woman.

“I needed a fresh start,” she finally says, sighing. “Three months ago, I got divorced, after being married for eight years. There were just too many reminders of him, and our life together, in our house in Miami.”

“Sorry to hear it,” I say dumbly. Chelsea looks so young! Surely we’re about the same age. And she was married for eight years? That day I was just reminiscing about, my big senior year blowout, was barely more than eight years ago.

It feels like there must be more to this divorce story, but I don’t want to push. Maybe eventually Chelsea will trust me enough to say more.

Chelsea looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. Then she turns back toward me. “And you, are you close with your family?”

“Yes and no,” I say. After Chelsea’s shared a little about herself, it’s only fair for me to do the same.

“My family don’t love my lifestyle, and it’s driven a bit of a wedge between us. But we were really close when I was young. And my brother and sister are still close to our parents.

“I might be a senior VP at the family firm, but I’m kinda the black sheep of the Oberlin family,” I say, feeling the familiar pit in my gut, the one I always get when I think about my family and how everything went down.

“What about your lifestyle don’t they like?” she asks curiously.

“Well…” This is kind of embarrassing, confirming that I’m exactly the kind of player Chelsea must’ve assumed yesterday. “I spend a lot of time partying, to be honest. Drinking, drugs, sleeping around.

“My family put up with it when I was in college, but these days they keep nagging me that I’m getting too old to show up in the tabloids every other week.”

“So have you thought about changing your lifestyle, getting closer with your family again?” The question sounds judgmental, but when Chelsea looks at me, I don’t see the judgment I’m expecting—just genuine curiosity and empathy.

“I’m pretty sure that’s why they sent me to Chicago,” I sigh. “To get me away from my friends and party life, and maybe find a fresh perspective.”

It hasn’t happened so far, to be honest. But maybe Chelsea is exactly the fresh perspective I need. I give her a too-soft smile as we get back to work.