A Beauteous Flower Ch. 01

Chapter 1 - The Professional

"He's... nice."

After a nearly three-hour dinner date, that was the highest compliment Madison could conjure. He dressed well, his hair was neatly trimmed, and his cologne was most definitely on point. He drove a nice car, he was on time, didn't complain when she ran late, and he was polite and courteous. He was safe and non-threatening, and Madison even enjoyed his company a little bit. But there was just something missing.

His name was Greg Something-or-Other, an alleged "up and comer" in the accounting department. The dance team rules might bar its members from dating the players, but the rules said nothing about dating the men in the front office. That left the legal and accounting departments wide open, and they could provide a girl with a nice life. Hence this date with Greg Something-or-Other, her latest selection from the eligible front office bachelor pool.

Like Greg, they all dressed well and kept themselves in shape and well groomed. They lived in stylish apartments in notable neighborhoods and drove nice cars. They all had... decent... manners when properly motivated, and they took her out to nice places. Yet they all lacked the same thing.

If she was forced to articulate it, Madison would have used the word "plain". Nothing about them was hidden or unusual; nothing mysterious or romantic. Dating them wasn't "bad", it just didn't interest her much, because they all told pretty much the same story; they were their work and while they could talk all night about it, they didn't seem to understand that their work didn't necessarily interest her. Greg was the fifth guy from the front office she had dated and, depressingly, she could have interchanged any of the other four men for Greg and had the exact same date.

They picked her up at eight dressed in trendy business-casual attire in their spotless Mercedes or BMW, took her to a nice restaurant, bought expensive wine, and fed her expensive food. They knew which fork to use, and they prattled on about work as if to impress her with their importance. Then they carefully laid out their plans for work, family, and a vacation home. Once that was done, they would gossip and tell her who they liked, didn't like and who screwed whom at the office. Madison would nod and smile at the appropriate points.

No, it wasn't bad. Plenty of dates were worse than these. After all, the food and wine were always good and, every so often, she got a juicy tidbit of gossip. She never had to worry about an abduction or assault, and she was always home by a decent hour. Not bad. Just a touch boring.

Greg Something-or-Other had done his best, which made him a step better than most of the rest of the cookie-cutter type men. He selected a nice restaurant and was a gentleman and he did look sharp in his tailored blue sports coat and tie. His light citrus cologne was a highlight in Madison's opinion. His car was clean and appropriately sporty, and he had returned Madison to the front door by 10:30 PM because it was a weeknight after all, and they both had to work tomorrow.

As they stood outside her door, his face showed that familiar hint of hopeful expectation like the rest of them as he and Madison shared the usual end of the first date awkward pause. Like the others, Greg obviously hoped Madison would invite him in for a nightcap, but that was not in the cards, even after a first date of surf-and-turf at a trendy restaurant that required a little juice to get a reservation. Madison and her roommates had a strict rule: no dates allowed in the apartment.

But there was still the awkward pause to deal with. Greg wasn't a bad guy and he had listened to her a little and it had been an enjoyable meal, so she went to her tip toes and gave him a light, good-night kiss on the cheek. It was just enough to leave the possibility of a second date, but non-committal enough to avoid the impression that his status had changed from "a man I dated" to "someone I might be interested in".

In reality, Madison viewed dates as a kind of tryout for a man like Greg Something-or-Other. A good first date could earn a second date, which could then earn a third and, after that, things got more formal. In Greg's particular case, he might have done enough tonight to earn a second date from a practical standpoint but, unfortunately, he was in serious jeopardy of the Friend-Zone. As such, a kiss on the cheek and a "thank-you-and-good-night" smile as she shut the front door left her options open until she talked things through with her roommates.

And speaking of her roommates, Deva, Adalina and Ivy all waited expectantly on the giant wrap around sofa while they ate popcorn and allegedly watched a Rom-Com. Adalina and Ivy shared a fuzzy pink blanket and a bowl of popcorn. Deva reclined regally on the other side, poised like a delicate feminine sculpture draped in a powder blue blanket. Their house version of Netflix and chill was to hang out on the sofa and wait for the roommate on the date to come home and dish it up. No one would sleep until the man of the evening was thoroughly weighed and measured against the house standards.

"Well, you're home at a decent hour," observed Adalina. That observation sounded polite, but it was the house code for "the date was a dud, and he's off the list, right?"

Madison kicked out of her pumps and took a seat near Deva. She dipped five fingertips of popcorn from Deva's bowl even though she felt stuffed from dinner. There was a tacit agreement among the roommates to participate in a ritual evaluation of every man they dated so everyone could get an inside scoop. The popcorn was necessary to set the appropriate mood.

Right away Madison could tell Ivy had made this batch of popcorn because Ivy always used extra butter, much to everyone's delight. Madison gave Ivy a little nod of respect and licked the extra butter off her fingers.

"It was nice," she Madison said in a neutral tone.

"And?" prompted Ivy.

Madison shrugged.

"He was nice."

Madison had tried hard to be gentle in her opening assessment, but it sounded hollow even as she said it. Greg was a nice guy after all, but he didn't make Madison's scalp tingle and, due to Madison's politely vague evaluation, her roommates could smell the blood in the water. The movie paused as they focused their attention like hungry sharks. Madison cringed and thought a quick "I'm sorry" to Greg. She had been vaguely aware that he wouldn't get a second date when she shut the door, but now she was acutely aware.

Ivy rolled her eyes and Deva inclined her head towards Ivy to indicate agreement. Madison hoped the case of Greg Something-or-Other would just drift away without further inquiry, but it seemed that the roommates wanted a drop of man-blood to flavor the popcorn tonight.

"Oh? What kind of nice?" Adelina prodded. "Nice like "I-could-be-convinced-to-do-you-at-some-point-nice" or nice like "thank-you-for-taking-out-the-trash-nice."

Madison didn't respond immediately. Instead, she bought time to answer as she unzipped her dress and turned her back to Deva.

"Deva, can you unhook me?"

Under her classic little black dress, Madison wore one of her "Date Bras". "Date bras" were typically lacy, a little too small to push up extra cleavage, and matched a pair of the French cut panties Madison favored. While a little uncomfortable, her "Date Bras" helped her feel confident and, just in case a date went exceptionally well, she would look extra good as the clothes came off. Either way, it was always a vaguely pleasant experience to take a "Date Bra" off at the end of the night. Deva's little fingers deftly unhooked Madison's bra and Madison shrugged her shoulders with a sigh of relief. Ivy gave Adalina a knowing poke in the ribs with her elbow.

"That kind of nice."

Madison's hesitation had been all her roommates needed to slash in and pass judgment on Greg, and that judgment was "Dead on Arrival". With the kill scored, everyone settled back into the Rom-Com, which up-paused a bit too loudly given the fact that a man's potential as a date for anyone in the room had just been annihilated in the blink of an eye.

"He was a drip," Ivy pronounced as the shared conclusion the roommates. "Can't build a dream on that one."

Madison's face flat lined. Admittedly, her past participation in these communal assassinations had been equally sanguine when her roommates came home from their dates. The house standards for men were high, and their judgments were harsh. When this group decided the guy was a "drip" then it removed him from everyone's radar. For men who dated the women in this group, 6/6/6 was only the entry point. A man also had to be able to provide a life of societal excitement; a life of parties, boutiques, spa days, country clubs, vacations and, in case of divorce, a stable financial future. Anyone who couldn't provide that kind of life was a beneath consideration. These women were all professionals at pretty femininity and high value women, which meant that to obtain one of them a man must be a prospective professional boyfriend and/or husband. It wasn't personal. It was business.

After all, a man who wanted a trophy wife had to provide her with a trophy life. It was only natural for a girl to look out for herself, and why not expect a return on the investment of time and energy it took to be a pretty girl? After all, the men they dated had the same transaction in mind. They didn't chase the check out girls in the cafeteria and didn't they all automatically display themselves like peacocks when they were around pretty women? It was the unspoken truth of the professional game of high value dates, and this game wasn't for amateurs or romantics.

Greg Something-or-Other might have been nice, but he obviously did not measure up to those expectations. As such, the verdict that Greg Something-or-Other's was un-datable shouldn't have bothered Madison. It was just a transaction after all, and he had gotten adequate compensation for his efforts tonight. But deep in her heart, a small, silly romantic part of Madison always felt guilty.

As her roommates tittered in derision, Madison pulled a sour face. While it hadn't been the greatest date of her life, it certainly hadn't been the worst. She might not date him again, but to brand Greg a "drip" didn't seem like a fair assessment. Maybe it was sappy and she normally wouldn't care, but tonight, for some reason, it seemed too harsh to simply dismiss a genuinely kind person like Greg into oblivion because he wasn't the most intriguing guy Madison had ever met. He had put his best foot forward for Madison, after all, and that was better than ninety percent of the guys out there, and that deserved some consideration. So despite her membership in the conspiracy, Madison dared to advocate a bit on Greg's behalf.

"No, no. Nothing like that. He's not a narcissistic douche or anything. He's a good person and he tries hard. It's just that we didn't connect on anything, and he was, I don't know. I had a nice time with him, but there was no spark, I guess."

Ivy reproached Madison with a side-eyed glance.

"When did you become such a softy?"

"Well... really, he's not like that, guys," persevered Madison. "He's not mean or nasty. He's sweet. And he drives a nice car, and he smells good..."

"Like my grandpa," sniped Adalina with a bark of a laugh for punctuation. Ivy joined in Adalina's laughter while Deva politely looked away, but Madison saw her smile in agreement.

"C'mon guys, he's... he's nice."

"You said that already."

Madison bobbled her head and silently conceded the argument. It was done in any case. Thanks to one bland date with Madison, Greg landed squarely on the house "no fly" list. By extension, the intra-team gossip mill meant that within a week no one on the dance team, drunk or sober, would even consider a date with him. Madison felt kind of bad, like she had punished someone who didn't really deserve it, but then again that was what the professionals in this game expected of both him and her. You tried out and you either made the cut or you didn't and you didn't cry when the results didn't go your way. That's how it went in the ranks of the big leagues of professional dating. The girls on the dance team were pretty and men pursued them because they were pretty, so therefore the girls got their pick of the litter when it came to the men that literally lined up to date them. Madison was gorgeous, so she had done her part. It was up to the men to do their part. A pretty girl should go after a high value man and Madison had chosen this life.

Besides what did she care if no one on the dance team would date Greg anyway? It was his own fault if he wasn't worthy of their attention. She had given him a chance, and he didn't measure up. That didn't make him a bad person. It just meant he didn't belong in the pro game and that was that. Justified by that thought, Madison suppressed whatever guilt she felt, and she cast off Greg Something-or-Other like she would shrug off an old sweatshirt. There was nothing left to do but collect her shoes and go to bed. The chuckles from her roommates died away as they also consigned Greg Something-or-Other to the minor leagues.

"Remember," Deva interjected with a pointed look at Madison. "Practice is at ten tomorrow, so yoga at sunrise."

Madison gave a big sigh and shook her head in resignation while Adalina and Ivy shared another round of giggles. Now there was the yoga challenge to deal with. Every night Deva reminded all the roommates of her daybreak yoga sessions, although no one ever took Deva up on her offer. There was yoga, like the stretches at the team studio, and then there was the strenuous yoga with a capital "Y" that Deva did stark naked every day at sunrise. Neither the yoga nor the implicit comparison to Deva's naked perfection were something that a girl engaged in lightly.

"I'm not sure I'll make it to yoga, Deva."

Deva shot Madison a look.

"Not early enough for you, eh? Well, suit yourself."

Madison took her leave and headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth and put her hair up for bed, Madison went to her room, hung up her dress and put her shoes back in their box. As she closed the closet, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror and paused. She certainly was pretty, that was obvious. She had known it as soon as she hit puberty, and the male attention poured in. But while the other girls on the team seemed satisfied to choose from the cardboard cutout flock of 6/6/6 guys that descended every time they left the front door, Madison wasn't so sure. She had dated more than a few of those guys now and she found them all underwhelming. They all lacked... something. That something she had felt with....

With a cool little shiver, a tiny ache of regretful memory tugged her heart and she got a pang of guilt and attendant loneliness. In that moment, this path of high value pursuit seemed so pointless and hollow. Maybe that's what she deserved. Maybe she earned this hollow and endless search. Maybe she deserved this pretty, sparkly life of uninspired dates with cookie-cutter men. After all she had chosen this world and abandoned.... This thought brought a heavy sigh from deep in her chest.

Tonight, she had a nice evening with a nice man. Any woman should be thrilled with the attention of a high value man like Greg. He was kind and good looking and she had enjoyed parts of their evening, but here at the end, all she felt was blue. The worst part was she had no one else to blame except herself and now Greg would unknowingly pay for it. She had chosen this path, this life, and it was a life that every girl in the world envied and wanted; to be young and pretty and lead a life of parties and fun, with access to high value men and the very real potential to end up as Mrs. Somebody at the best country clubs, night clubs and restaurants this city had to offer. Any girl would want that. Right?

Madison shook herself free of the doubt and the tiny ache of regret. She had everything she could want out of her life, and she was determined to enjoy it, like any other girl would in her place. Regrets about a past decision wouldn't change anything. She tossed her hair, did a dirty bob to herself in the mirror and flashed her best boss-bitch grin. A pro didn't cry over spilled milk.

"Tomorrow is another day," she told herself as she lay down to sleep. "He's out there. I just have to find him and reel him in."

Then Madison had a bracing thought: Mrs. Selene's party was soon. Mrs. Selene was the wife of the team owner, and the executive director of the dance team. All the dance team veterans positively buzzed about the parties that Mrs. Selene threw. As they told it, each party teemed with the crème de la crème of the eligible men that the city's society had to offer. It was to be Madison's first party since she made the dance team. Maybe one of those men would be her ticket to the life she came here in search of. He had to be there, whoever he was. He just had to be.

And so, the prospect of sparkly people, sparkly places and sparkly champagne pushed the shameful memory from Madison's mind. Soon, while hopeful thoughts of Mr. Right glowed in her mind, she fell fast asleep.