Not Just Another Love Story Ch. 01

To all those who still believe in love, romance and the power of imagination. BELIEVE!

Some have won a wild delight, By daring wilder sorrow; Could I gain thy love tonight, I'd hazard death tomorrow. – Excerpt from Passion by Charlotte Bronte

"Tell her to get her skinny ass over here, right now," I fumed!

"I already told the sadistic bitch to be here at 08H00 sharp but apparently her broom ran out of bitch juice and the delivery truck broke down as well," Dave, my very flamboyant, gay assistant said.

"And that is my problem, how?" I angrily railed.

"You know baby, if you paid me more and gave me a proper allowance at Armani, I could always make it my problem," Dave cheekily replied.

"Oh sod off you ass, when last did I fire you?"

"Well let me see, two, three, nope, half an hour ago," Dave again.

"You know Dave, one of these days I might just stick to my guns and not take you back again, even if you cry, beg and kiss my feet."

"Honey, you don't have a chance in hell to survive without my artistic flair and stunning personality. People all over the world are vying for my attention and expert opinions."

"Well, now that you mention it, I did see a fax on my desk requiring your presence in Osama's new hideout. It seems like he needs another lesson in megalomania with a dash of "I want to rule the world" thrown into the mix. Don't you ever get tired of carting around that inflated ego of yours?"

"I am soooo sorry if you can't seem to grasp the fact that I am excellent at what I do, your royal pain in the buttness. Besides, my ego is not the only inflated appendage on my super hot body and you know you love me and all my super sized bits, Gaby, now don't you?"

"Lord, spare me the drivel and get on the phone. I need the last shipment of antiques, pronto!"

"Yes mistress and just out of curiosity, what did your last slave die of?" Dave inquired.

"Dave, I got a huge problem and....."

"Well honey, I can't fix your personality, sorry!"

"Oh just bugger off you idiot."

Yep, this is my life. Full of fun and games and orchestrated by Dave the gay guru renaissance fairy. Dave and I met at university and since then, my life has been one continuous rollercoaster ride stopping quite frequently at Lunacyville. My name is Gabriella or Gaby as my friends call me and I started a very exclusive Interior Design Studio when I got my degree, using my generous inheritance. I am twenty nine years old and have basically lead a very charmed life, except for the death of my parents and my estrangement from my best friend Dare. My business is flourishing and I have to give Dave credit, since employing him, profits almost doubled. He has a certain flair when dealing with potential clients and always seem to know exactly what they want. Call me crazy, but I am thinking of making him a full partner, but please don't tell him yet. Okay, enough about business, idiots and fairies, let me tell you about my current predicament.

Did I just say enough about idiots....?

About the estrangement.... So, when my parents died when I was twenty two, and Darius or Dare for short, whom I haven't seen in four years, came home for the funeral. He is five years older than me and currently owns a very successful fast food chain. I opened the door to a bronzed, blond god and couldn't believe that it was my best friend. Enveloping me in his strong embrace, I just cried, not saying a word. Very relieved to have someone taking care of all the arrangements, I just coasted along until after the funeral. Dare had to return to his new business and we spent the last evening together, reminiscing about the great times with Mom and Dad, he used to hang out at our place regularly and we sort of adopted him. He was the brother I never had. Well, what do you know, I predictably started crying again and Dare pulled me onto his lap to comfort me. After a while, I could feel Dare's erection pressing against my thigh and I started to get up. Not going into details here, but Dare tightened his hold on me and started kissing me passionately. To be honest, I loved it and returned his advances with fervor. I felt his hand skimming over my body and touching my erect nipple and that is when it struck me, I am about to get naked with my best friend, my almost brother! Hell no, this can't be happening. Wrenching myself from his lap, I screamed for him to take his perverted ass out of the house and that I never wanted to see him again. He did try to contact me after that but I just ignored his overtures. I haven't heard from him in the last three years although I see him from time to time on the arm of a model or actress in the society pages. Honestly, I actually do miss him and this is where our story continues.

Dave averted certain disaster by dealing with the broken down truck dilemma and we finished the decorating job on time and mucho grandé client satisfaction. Back at the office, things returned to normal, at least our kind of crazy normal. Dave was his biting sarcastic self and I dodged prospective clients. The reason why our working relationship succeeds is because Dave reels in prospective customers and I make their decorating dreams come true.

"Gaby, what would you say is your ultimate dream decorating job?" Dave asked.

"Why?"

"Just asking."

"Uhm..., you know what I dream about Dave, but okay. I would have to say having carte blanche to restore and decorate a bona fide Victorian mansion and authentically landscape the gardens. No clients breathing down my neck asking for a red and green dining room vomit explosion and bitching about time and budget constraints. Yeah, in a perfect world, that would be my dream job, but alas, no fairy godmother anywhere in my near future. Why do you ask?"

"Well, no reason really but do you have a ball gown and glass slippers, Cinderella?" Dave smirked.

"You know Dave, I told you to lay off the thinners, it is slowly eroding what little brain cells you have left." I replied.

"Tsk, tsk, my little dominatrix bitch boss from hell, you know you should not sexually excite your employees by all that nasty talk. I might just decide to sue your ass." Dave said.

"The only way that I will ever be able to sexually excite you is to strap a twelve inch dildo to my forehead and follow you around on my knees. Not a pretty picture if you ask me, but hell, who am I to complain? I am all for my employees job satisfaction."

"Ooh wee, is that a promise, Cruella?"

"Cut the crap Dave, I have decorating dyslexia to perform for a grunge Andy Warhol lover of obscure antiques. Don't have time to shoot the shit with you now."

"Well okay then, I suppose that Hartman & Pole will love to have a bona fide, no holds barred Victorian mansion revamp. Ciao Chica." Dave soberly replied.

"Huh, what are you talking about, you nut?"

A dreamy expression appeared on Dave's face. "Oh, just that I had a Greek god client who wants us to do exactly what you would love to do. He just bought a rundown Victorian mansion and wants the full treatment, apparently, money is no object. And, I think he might just be gay as well because he asked to work with me, exclusively. How much do you love me, eh?"

Jumping up from my ergonomically correct, back ache inducing chair, I hugged and kissed Dave to within an inch of his life.

"You beautiful, crazy fairy, how did you make that happen?"

"Oh it was quite easy. The client asked to deal with me and that you do the designs and decorating. He loves your style and my expert opinion. He has just one condition, total anonymity. I will present all designs and ideas to him and he will provide us with an open bank account to spend as we choose. You think you can live with that?" Dave asked.

"Are you crazy, I would kill to have that job." I bubbled

"Well, as long as I'm not the intended victim, feel free to kill whomever you want. Do you think we can go check out the property this afternoon? I told MR. X that we might have a few ideas for him in two days time."

"Of course we can, give me an hour to finish the decorating from hell proposal and then I'm all yours."

Going for a drive with Dave is like having your very own live E entertainment correspondent giving tips on what fashion faux pas not to commit. I have to say, he is very entertaining in a chain saw massacre kind of way, remind me to never wear a; quote "long dead butchered cow (leather pants)" unquote, in public. I would be too afraid that the fairy fashion police would feather boa me to death. I just love his quirky sayings and un-pretentious way of looking at life, not that I'll admit to it even under threat of removing my toenails without the benefit of novocaine.

I am in love! The inanimate object of my dubious affection happens to belong to our mysterious client. I wonder if they have a name for people like me who fall in love with stationery objects. Just think, I might establish the world's first group called 'Objectamorephilia'. I think I might just copyright the name and start lecturing in foreign countries. I might.... Wait, before I wander too far off the road to normalcy, let me continue.

The house was seriously in need of paint, roof tiles, railings, etc, and I just loved it! If I ever have enough money, I will buy exactly the same type of property. I am jealous of the owner but happy to be the one to restore this fading beauty to its former glory.

"Dave, do you know what this means to me?" I tearfully ask.

"Aw honey, please don't cry, you know I look like shit when my eyes are all puffy." Dave also sniffled.

"Well Davey my boy, let's split up and explore this beauty. I want you to give me your opinion on everything you see."

The old world charm captivated me totally and I walked, crept and wiggled my way through the entire house. I could see it fully restored and blazing with lights on a magical night in the very near future. I could hardly wait to begin and shouted for Dave to return to the car so that I could get back to the drawing board.

"Well, don't you have that pretty 'dead possum in the road glow' about you, Gaby?"

"That bad, huh?" I asked Dave.

"Well, I wouldn't enter any beauty contests today if I were you. What did you do, inspect the house while imitating a snake in heat?" Dave asked

"Might as well have; feels like I was dragged through a colony of fire ants. I itch all over.

"Let's go, I have a hot date with an IQ deficient, built like a tank, hottie. Exactly how I like my men, big, willing and dumb." Dave purred

"You are such a pig!"

Dropping Dave at the office, I decided to go home to take a bath and work from my home office.

After my bath and a snack, I turned on my home computer and downloaded all my e-mails. Wanting desperately to start on the new proposal, I decided to deal with any urgent issues first. Just as I expected, I'm a workaholic with hardly any friends. Most e-mails are work related, some spam and one freaky message from:

devol@yahoo.com Subject: You Message: When your doorbell rings, please answer. From: L

Huh, WTF? Before I could even reply to the message, my doorbell rings. Totally freaked out, I cautiously approach the door and ask who it is.

"Delivery for Ms. Gabriella Deluca."

"What are you delivering?" I suspiciously ask.

"Flowers and a present, listen, I'm in kind of a hurry here."

"Can't you just leave it outside and leave?"

Sorry, no can do. You have to sign receipt of the goods."

"Well okay then, just give me a second." Looking around for a handy weapon, the only thing I could find was a wall calendar. Well, if all else fails, I can always paper cut him to death. Deciding to live dangerously, I pull open the door and present my best Bruce Lee imitation stance, all 5,3 ft of me. Yeah, I also frighten children on Halloween, just saying. Plucking the pen and goods received form from the 'trying hard not to kill himself laughing' delivery man, I sign and take my goodies, then slam the door in his face. Take that you bozo, try raping or murdering me, yeah come on, just try.

Okay, now what? Huge bunch of flowers in one hand and beautifully wrapped gift in the other, I go into the kitchen. Arranging the flowers in water, I nervously approach the gift. Fully aware of the recent anthrax scare, I shake, prod and sniff the package. Right, does not sound like a bomb either. Throwing all caution to the wind, I tear the wrapping form the gift and quickly duck beneath the kitchen table, giggling at my own stupidity. Alrightie then, no explosion and I'm still breathing, albeit a bit shakily. Chuckling to myself, I man up and open the box. Inside is a book of poems and it's dedicated to me and a bookmark is tucked in on page 130. Whoever sent me the gift must know me quite well, because the poem that's marked is one of my favorites. It is by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 'The Ways of Love' and yeah, I know I'm a sap, sue me! Book in hand, I return to my computer and send the following message to devol:

Me: Who are you and why are you sending me gifts?

Devol: All in due time honey. Tell me, did you like the gifts?

Me: Who are you?

Devol: Now honey, don't be difficult, did you like them?

Me: You know, I deal with psycho's like you every day. Stop sending me gifts and messages, you pervert!

Devol: Do you still like black & white movies?

Me: Who the FUCK are you? If you don't tell me, I will go to the police.

Devol: The police can't touch me baby but you can.

Me: Fuck off!

Quickly logging off, I stare at my computer. Picking up the phone, I start dialing but hang up again. What do I tell the police? A romantic internet weirdo is trying to stalk me when I'm not even sure he's stalking instead of contemplating murder. Just then the phone rings...

"That was very rude darlin." A somewhat familiar voice says

"Listen freak, why don't you come and tell me that to my face? You hide behind a pc and telephone, not very fear inspiring if you ask me." I bravely spit out

"Now darlin, if it was that easy, I would have faced you ages ago, don't you think? I thought it would be better if we got re-acquainted this way before actually meeting again. By the way, I love the tiny boy shorts and tank top, so sexy...." Creep says

"Are you watching me right now, you low down stinking coward? Now piss off and don't call me ever again." Looking around my study cum living room, I see that all the curtains are closed. How does he know what I'm wearing right now?

To be continued.....