Flower Girl Ch. 03

She hated to see the arrangement go, but she had forty-two photos from different angles, photos that would outlast the flowers and be the main image on her website. Even though it was Friday night, she still had a lot of work to do in order to be able to take the next two days off.

* * * * *

William woke up too early on Saturday morning and could not fall back asleep. He stayed in bed for a while, thinking about the day ahead. He decided to get up and run on the treadmill, just forty minutes to clear his mind, and then meditate, eat, and read. At exactly nine-twenty, he phoned for a cab, and then looked around his apartment to make sure everything was in order. Of course it was. So William went downstairs and waited on the stoop and read a book on his phone while he waited for his cab. He had a gift for Tracy at his side.

He gave the taxi driver the address, then sat back and enjoyed the ride. It took eighteen minutes in the Saturday morning traffic. He arrived at five minutes early, an acceptable range that would not interfere with his agenda, making him appear neither late nor too eager. He paid the driver, then carefully removed the gift and from the cab and from the front her apartment he texted Tracy, "I am downstairs."

Tracy came through the door in ninety-one seconds, carrying a purse and sweater, obviously ready to leave, but when she saw the gift William was holding, a look of shock crossed her face. William observed her emotions change from surprise, to confusion as she processed what she was seeing. William spoke before she had a chance to ask, "Yes, these are for you. I wanted to buy you flowers, but it seemed inappropriate to give my business to someone else. And I wanted to surprise you, so I hope you don't mind that I did not use my own name."

He watched as the corners of her mouth slowly curve up and grow into a huge smile. "You scared me, William! I didn't expect to ever see that arrangement ever again, and for a second there I thought the customer returned it!"

"No, the customer is merely delivering it to the intended recipient."

Tracy looked at William and took off her glasses, revealing glowing mischievous eyes and demurely whispered, "Then you must find me aesthetic, prolific, scintillating, stunning, and adroit?"

"That and much more. You limited me to five adjectives."

His response and gesture caused Tracy to drop her head back and laugh a warm, sweet laugh that made his knees go week. She lowered her smiling face to look at him again with glee radiating from her blue eyes, and turning serious asked, "Did you know that no one ever gives me flowers?"

"Yes, I actually imagined that would be a drawback in your profession, which is one of the reasons I chose to do so. And I was curious to see what you might create, but when you asked me to describe the recipient, I was particularly intrigued."

Tracy looked at the flowers which she had sat on the bannister and said, "I'll admit, I absolutely love this piece."

William laughed and said, "I was blown away. And so was my friend John."

"That was your 'assistant'?"

"Yes, a good friend to do me such a favor."

"Wow. You are very clever, William. Or should I call you Mr. Moore?"

"Well I do like to hear you say 'more'." William said with a sexy grin, which Tracy unintentionally answered with an equally sexy laugh.

"Well, I better take these upstairs. "

"Shall I wait here?"

"Oh no, come up and see my place," Tracy answered, and William's heart began to race in anticipation. William carried the flowers and when they reached the third floor, Tracy put a key in the door and turned to see that William had his eyes closed and his hand on his brow and was taking deep breaths.

"Are you okay? Are you ill?" she asked thinking he looked like he was in much too good of shape to get winded by a few flights of stairs.

William opened his eyes and answered, "Oh, I will be okay, just give me a second." And he exhaled fully. When he looked up, Tracy met his eyes and gave a slight nod and opened the door. She went in ahead of him, took the flowers from his hands and walked over to the small dining table.

William exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. He took a calculated look around and the room and a slow smile spread across his face. "Mid-century modern. Just a touch of Kitsch, not overdone. Clean lines, minimal clutter, no obvious obtuse collections."

"What, you're an interior decorator too?" Tracy asked rather indignantly.

William looked guilty for a moment and asked, "I spoke out loud?"

"Yes," Tracy answered, "And my apartment seems to meet your criteria? What, are you planning to move in William?"

"Oh Tracy, I am horribly sorry. It is just that I am already rather fond of you, yet I have some very unique requirements and ..."

"What?" Tracy looked genuinely pissed now and had her hand on her hip, "What kind of 'requirements' William? Were you trying to see if my taste is up to par, or better yet my income?" Tracy asked accusingly.

William got a look of hurt on his face and said, "No, that's not it. May I sit down?"

"No." Tracy answered, her chin jutted out.

"Very well then," William rubbed his hair back with his palm, "I hoped to have this conversation later, but the situation has dictated that I tell you now. I have OCD."

Tracy's face softened slightly and William went on.

"It is not a joke, I am not a clean freak, I don't wash my hand obsessively, or return home to make sure the stove is turned off. I have a quirk about numbers and the truth is I have a difficult, no I will be honest, I find it nearly impossible to relax in a chaotic environment."

"So why the hell did you move to New York?" Tracy asked, but her voice had softened and she sat down in a chair.

"I love New York, Tracy. I love the energy and I thrive off of the excitement, even the chaos. For some reason I can walk through discord rather easily. It is when I am close to an individual that has illogical thoughts, I feel very claustrophobic."

"Please sit down, William. What do you mean by 'illogical thoughts'?"

William sat on the couch and said, "Everyone has illogical thoughts occasionally. I am talking about patterns of thinking as they relate to materialism." William looked frustrated and said, "Okay, here is one example. I had a girlfriend in college. We were both students living in dorms and we got along fantastically, and I will admit the sex was amazing too. I was really falling for this girl and went home with her one weekend and saw her home and bedroom. She collected pigs, Tracy. Pigs."

"Well," Tracy answered carefully, "Pigs are kind of cute when they are little."

"Yes, well. Lea collected all types of pigs. Porcelain, stuffed, glass, ceramic. They were everywhere. She had a blanket with pigs on it, a picture frame with little pink piglets lined up on the rim. Instead of bunny slippers, she had piggy slippers. And she was proud of this fact."

Tracy let out a slight laugh, then covered her mouth and said, "Sorry, go on."

"It was the lack of quality, Tracy, not just the quantity. She excitedly told me how her mother would buy her anything she saw with a pig on it. Stationary, bath towels, soap dishes. I could not get out of that room fast enough. She even suggested that I might give her some swine-themed gift. We broke up soon after."

"Well, that does sound very disturbing!" Tracy laughed her first genuine laugh. "I should warn you, I have a few antique cameras. They serve no purpose; I just like to look at them. "

William looked at Tracy and she realized downplaying it was not the solution. "I'm sorry William. I didn't mean to make light of this."

William remained quiet and turned his focus to the book case across from him.

Tracy spoke again, "This is why you like libraries, isn't it."

William turned to Tracy and said, "Yes, one of the reasons."

"Everything is in its place, everything is organized."

"Yes." William continued, "There are over two million books in the Mid-Manhattan. Each has a specific number and can be found in a matter of minutes."

"And the damaged or obsolete books are periodically removed."

William looked at Tracy in amazement. He was extremely pleased that she made that connection, but suddenly felt very tired. He focused on her flowers instead.

"That is an extremely unique piece, and it looks like it was made for this room. Do you think you subconsciously knew it was for you?"

Tracy laughed. "Nope. Not a clue. And William?"

He looked back at her and she said, "I am really happy that you feel comfortable in my apartment. Let's go see if you approve of my shop as well." Tracy winked at him, not teasing, not making fun, but confidently, knowing that if William appreciated the orderly nature of her apartment, he would love Petals.

* * * * *

Tracy led the way to Petals, a short walk with William at her side. She was thinking about his reaction to her apartment and his revelation of OCD. Logically, she knew she should be put off by any hint of mental instability, but instead she found his vulnerability attractive and wasn't sure if this was a good thing. She also felt like she had a better understanding of his slight quirkiness and it made him seem much more authentic. He was quiet during the walk, wearing casual trousers, and a button up shirt that was rolled up to the elbows. It was her first time seeing his forearms, and she found them distracting. There were very toned and muscular, almost void of hair. She could see tendons running down to his wrist. Tracy had never felt moved by a man's forearms in this way and she wanted to touch them.

When they arrived, William complemented her shop and admired the flowers. He utterly charmed Rachel and Linda, while Tracy looked over the online orders for anything unusual, but it was the standard fare. After saying goodbye to the giggly girls - both college students and the best of friends - William and Tracy stepped outside. William hailed a cab in a competent manner that struck Tracy as very sexy, contemplating how sometime a simple gesture could be so charming. Perhaps it was because her ex always relied on her to hail a cab, saying they were more likely to stop for a girl. William disproved this theory and it was the second time this morning that Tracy felt a strong sexual pull towards William and they had only been together a short time. She found it unnerving. She was used to being the object of lust, not the one feeling lustful.

Tracy had tried on several outfits before deciding on a black dress with flowers around the skirt and a narrow pink belt. It was one of her favorite outfits; she felt like it was made specifically for her. She considered wearing something more form fitting, since this dress flared out around the hips, but William had already an opportunity to see her shape when they went out for drinks. Besides, Tracy did not like to look like she tried too hard and knew that if she ultimately dressed for herself, she would feel sexy and confident. So she put on black sandals with a high black wedge heel, and clasped a dainty silver chain around her ankle that had a tiny bird holding the chain together. Checking her ensemble in the mirror, she chose a black leather purse that was similar to a doctor's bag, big sunglasses, and noted that her dress and shoe combination gave her legs for days. Although not usually vain, she felt beautiful in this outfit and even snapped a selfie to send to Beth, titled "Date outfit".

Now, sitting in a cab with legs crossed, she answered William's question about her writing. "I've started the second part. I am writing two stories and they are going to be intertwined. The second story is also about a prostitute, but the setting is one hundred years ago in a brothel in a Western mining town. Have you heard of town called Bodie?"

"I have, actually. It is high in the mountains, a ghost town now. Open to tourists."

"Yes! Well, anyway, I want to contrast these two women that are very similar in temperament, just born in different eras with very different circumstances and choices. Both are prostitutes who develop a special bond with a particular customer, but that is where all similarities end. I want to contrast the choices they are given, where 'Jesse' the old west prostitute will come across as having it a lot tougher than Vera. Jesse will actually be exploited by another woman, a Madam of course. "

"Well Tracy, this sounds interesting but the problem with a story-within-a-story is the reader usually skims one to get to the other."

Tracy furrowed her brow and William watched disappointment register on her face. Then, as if watching the gears of her brain turn, she sat up straighter and her chin jutted out. "Well I appreciate what you say and I suspect you are probably right, but I'm doing it anyway. I do not wish to be belligerent, but I have to write what is on my mind and not what I think will please others."

William did not speak, but if he did it would be to say that Tracy's conviction and confidence turned him on immensely. They had just pulled up to the Met.

Upon arrival at the museum, William paid the fare, opened the car door, and took Tracy's hand as she stepped out of the cab, one long leg at a time. William's eye caught the site of the anklet adorning her slender leg. Tracy smiled at him and said, "I will apologize in advance. I get extremely nerdy when looking at art."

"I think you mean passionate, don't you?"

"Judge for yourself," Tracy laughed, "I hope I don't drive you crazy reading the placards."

"Well, in case the crowd becomes bothersome and we cannot get close enough, I have The Met's app on my phone."

Tracy allowed her mouth to drop open in exaggerated surprise, "You have an app for the museum? I'll have to remember never to challenge a librarian to a nerd-dual!"

"You would lose," William laughed.

They walked up the steps and entered the foyer, then stood in a long but fast moving line for tickets. William felt a constant urge to touch her, but fought the impulse by placing his hands in his pockets. He recognized the woman in the ticket booth as a patron from the library and when she said, "Hello, William, how nice to see you!" he answered, "Nice to see you too, Ellen," grateful that she was wearing a nametag.

"Are you here to see Adam?" she asked, referring to the marble statue that had recently been restored and prominent in the news lately.

"Among other things," William smiled politely and took the tickets, before guiding Tracy away. Outside of hearing range William leaned in and whispered, "I am accustomed to people recognizing me from the library. I would have introduced you, but I don't really know her."

"No reason to hold up the line," Tracy whispered back. Then she backed her head up and they were standing very close to each other. William glanced at her lips and then back to her eyes and realized he loved and hated her glasses.

"You wear glasses for the same reason Clark Kent wears a suit; you have to keep your super powers somewhat hidden in public."

Tracy laughed and said, "Actually, I need to see, William."

"Well what would you like to see first?"

"I usually start at the top and work my way down," she answered. William heard a sexual connotation in her statement and wondered if she meant to tease him or if it just came naturally to her.

"Well then today we shall start at the bottom and work our way up, for it is my desire to give you a unique experience."

Tracy lifted an eyebrow and gave a half smile as she threaded her arm through William's extended elbow, a very old-fashioned and gentlemanly gesture that sharply contrasted with the thoughts in his mind.

And so William began his observation of Tracy observing art. He noticed that upon entering certain rooms that she paused at the entryway and gasped at the size and grandeur of the room, surely a room she had visited before. "It never gets old, does it?" she beamed, her face illuminated with excitement.

"Never," William agreed, for her enthusiasm was contagious. At times she nearly ran from painting to painting, like an excited child. Other times she stood in front of a piece with her brow furrowed in concentration. She read the placards, or not. She shared her thoughts, or kept them to herself. William admired the art too, but used Tracy's preoccupation to study her. She was mesmerized by some of the art, and William was equally mesmerized by her silver anklet. Touching it was becoming an obsession.

"Ah, 'The Flower Girl' he noted with amusement at the title of the painting they had approached.

"My nickname. People have always called me that," Tracy informed him, "Even before the store, because of my tattoos."

"Tell me about your tattoos?" William found an opportunity to inquire about one of his curiosities about her. He knew he had only seen a portion of her body art.

Tracy let out a slightly self-conscious laugh and said, "Well, my poor grandmother. I told her I was going to get a tattoo of my favorite flower. She should have known I could not pick a favorite, so there are twenty-two."

William grinned and Tracy went on, "You are seeing eight of them on my arm," she wrapped her thumb and forefinger around her upper arm and drew them up to her shoulder, "and here they become more spread out," she traced a line over her shoulder that William expected to extend down her back, but instead she made a turn that led in front of her shoulder, then under her arm along the side of her breast, "Then even more so," she traced a line along her waist and then over her left hip, "and it ends with a single flower here." She pointed to the upper quadrant of her left butt cheek and said, "Arabian Dahlia."

She smiled at William and he knew now that she was enjoying teasing him. He could imagine her pale skin and the path of colorful flowers, but then he realized and spoke, "I am not familiar with the Arabian Dahlia."

Tracy smiled and said, "Well perhaps I'll show you one soon," and she turned back to the painting to read the placard. "Oh, listen to this! I wondered why the girl held a basket full of colorful flowers in one hand, and that ugly potted plant in the other. It's a fuchsia, symbolic of the goddess Flora. The plant is figurative of frustrated love."

William thought for a second before asking, "And is the fuchsia one of the twenty-two flowers that adorns the lovely body of work known as Tracy Wilcox?"

"Not yet," Tracy smiled at him and then threaded her arm through his and led him away.

On the main level, William suggested they stop and have a drink at the museum's outdoor café. Tracy ordered an iced tea and William a Perrier, and they found a small iron table where they could sit in the shade. Tracy crossed her long legs and her foot bobbed back and forth a bit, the anklet catching the gleam of the sun and William's eyes, causing both to sparkle. "I'm having a very good time here with you, William. Last time I was here, I felt rushed the whole time. You seem like you are actually enjoying yourself."

"Well I am enjoying myself immensely, Tracy. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, I don't know. You mentioned you were impatient, but I have not seen that side of you at all."

"No, you haven't. And I said I could be impatient. There are times when I exercise extreme self-control." He gave her a serious gaze and watched her place a straw between her lips, daintily with two fingers. "But why would someone be impatient while looking at art?"

"Well I made the mistake of bringing my ex-boyfriend here when we were still together. I knew better, but I thought since it was my birthday he would at least try and enjoy himself for my sake. But the heavy sighs and looking at his phone the whole time made it apparent he would rather be somewhere else."