The World of Fashion

"Are you calling...."

"Shut up. Go home to your condo, stripped naked as soon as you enter, and fasten the choker around your neck."

"YOOOUUU...."

"Olive! Will you please shut the fuck up? Grip the middle of the leash between your teeth. Get your cell phone from your purse, drop down on your hands and knees 6 feet from the door, take a selfie, and send it to me."

"AAARRRRRGGGGG!" Click. Olive started screaming at me and then hung up.

I hope I haven't screwed everything up, but her idea of our future relationship was a non-starter.

*****

Melia and I were inseparable the rest of the day, and the only work we did was review the progress reports of the models hired in the last six months and wander around and watch photo shoots. That night, we went to bed in the wee hours of the morning after visiting one of the restaurants for a late dinner and rubbing elbows with some of New York City's elite party people.

That night, I dreamt about receiving blowjobs, fucking a slick pussy, caressing full tits, sucking on big nipples, and inhaling a sweet perfume, but it wasn't 'Opium.'

All my dreams were about Olive, and I sat up at 5:45 AM wondering if I had gone too far.

I rolled away from Melia and finally fell asleep.

We awoke at noon and made love; sweet, slow, and gentle. As we snuggled afterward, her phone rang. Thirty seconds after answering, Melia waved her free hand at the door and whispered, "Go! Get out and close the door behind you."

Stunned, I followed orders, and as I shut the door, I heard her ask, "What do you want, Ollie?"

I showered, and after getting dressed, I wandered into the kitchen and found Melia sitting at the table and apparently waiting for me.

"Jason. Something has come up that I need to take care of today. I need you to spend the day away from the building. Take the day off, go to the movies, or visit your mother."

She looked deathly pale, and without looking at me, she stood up and walked into her bedroom. The door closed behind her, and I heard the deadbolt turn.

I wandered the city in a daze until late afternoon before returning to Melia's apartment, but I couldn't enter because the deadbolt was engaged. After ringing the doorbell for several minutes, I called her cell phone. When she answered, her voice sounded like she'd been crying.

"Jason. What do you want?"

"Um, I need to get in so I can make dinner for us, and if you don't want me in your bed, then I can go to sleep in my room."

She sobbed, kept telling me to go away until I lost patience, and yelled, "Can you at least let me in so I can get some clothes before getting a hotel room?"

She hung up. I stared at my phone before turning toward the elevator. I was about to push the down button when I heard the deadbolt retract. I slowly returned to the door, and as I punched the code in, I heard her bedroom door close.

I guess making dinner was out, so I filled a suitcase with underwear and socks for a week, threw some T-shirts and jeans on top, and grabbed two pairs of sneakers. As I wandered through the kitchen, Melia cried out to me from her bedroom.

"Jason. Please stay in one of the suites downstairs. I'll talk to you tomorrow and try to explain what's happening."

Stunned, I wandered out the door to the elevator and rode down to the 36^th floor, where a gum-chewing brunette holding a college textbook about surgical robotics met me.

"You must be Jason. You're kind of cute. Here's the key to 3604, the first door to your left. I'm in 3601. Call me if you have any problems like a fire or a water pipe breaking. Otherwise, don't bother me because I'm studying for a test."

I spent most of the night staring at old movies on TV. The next morning after getting dressed and eating breakfast at the cafeteria, I ended up pounding on Melia's bolted door. My phone rang, and it was Melia. She pleaded with me to give her more time before we talked.

So I took her advice and visited my mother, but she wasn't home. After putting her mail on the dining room table, I returned to my suite and ordered a pizza for dinner.

The next day, Sunday, I stayed in all day watching hockey and basketball.

Monday, Melia wouldn't let me in her apartment and made excuses for not talking yet. Olive called on my work phone after noon, and I hung up when she started screaming at me. The rest of the workweek followed Monday's pattern, with Melia crying and Olive screaming.

Saturday morning, I went out early and wandered around Manhattan, trying to make sense of the previous nine days. I ended up back at the entrance to the Mallory agency, staring through the windows and getting knocked around by the Saturday foot traffic.

Something snapped inside me, and I went inside. I rode the elevator to the 40^th floor, and wouldn't you know it, the deadbolt wasn't in use. I went to my bedroom, jammed as much clothing as possible into my second suitcase, grabbed my personal cell phone and charger, and left the apartment. I returned to my suite and packed all my clothes, leaving my door card on the bed.

My last stop was Olive's office, and I left my company ID and work cell phone on Sylvia's desk, with a note to Melia. Then I used the company phone to call for a taxi. When the elevator reached the lobby, my taxi was pulling up outside. Caller ID can get you a cab 'tout de suite.'

The driver took me to my mother's house, which was still dark and silent. I found her calendar on her dresser, and she was on a cruise for a month in the Arctic.

'Saving the ice pack, for sure.'

After throwing out all the spoiled food in her refrigerator, I napped. My cell phone had a full charge when I awoke four hours later.

'Feel better. No calls or texts. Thank you, Lord. Need food.'

I walked to the local grocery store, a family-owned business, Martino's Mercato (Market). I kept running into people who knew me, which slowed me down. Somehow I ended up at my mentor's restaurant, and the welcome I received rivaled a movie star's entrance at the Academy Awards, causing all the customers to stare, wondering who I was. After being stuffed with five courses, I had to give a blood oath that I wouldn't be a stranger before Eric let me leave.

The sun was setting when I finally reached my destination, and Mr. Martino gruffly reminded me that my mother always called her order in and had her groceries delivered. Duh, I only lived there 18 years until I went to college, and his daughter, Donna, wore tight sweaters when she brought our groceries every Saturday morning for four years until I turned sixteen.

Back then, my Saturday routine was waking up at sunrise, eating breakfast, getting dressed like I was going to church, brushing my hair, and gluing it down with mom's hairspray. Donna showed up promptly at 9 o'clock and helped me put away the groceries while she babbled on about her many boyfriends. I was devastated when she went to college while I was a Junior.

I took home enough to make a hearty breakfast tomorrow with a promise from Mr. Martino to deliver the bulk of my groceries after church. When I got home, as I was putting the food in the frig, my father called me. He was back in New York from his latest job overseas and informed me he had retired. We chatted for a while and agreed to have dinner together sometime.

I overslept, but it was Sunday, so who cares? After eating breakfast, I flopped down on the sofa and found a show about serial killers, so I watched that until the doorbell rang at 1:30.

It was my grocery order, and you'll never believe who delivered it.

Donna had filled out nicely, was not wearing a ring, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw a woman who would make a wonderful wife, mother, homemaker, confidant, best friend, lover, and someone who would rarely cause problems in the marriage. In short, she was a 'Stepford Wife' and would be mine if I reached for her hand and asked her out.

We chatted, and I found out there was no man in her life and that she worked for an accounting firm while helping her parents out on the weekends.

I told her about my life and embellished my story by adding that I was dating the agency's owner. Yeah, maybe I lied, so what. Donna looked disappointed when she left.

*****

It was dark outside, and my phone rang at 2:30, fucking AM, yanking me out of a wet dream. Donna Martino was showing me what she could do with a banana.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I knocked it on the floor and fell out of bed. By the time I grabbed my phone, it had stopped ringing. Now I was really pissed off. Squinting at the screen, all I saw was the name Olivet at the top. Why is her name coming up on my phone?

'Shit. Bitch woke me up.'

Let me think, it's a five-hour time difference, so it's 7:30 in Paris. Well, I'll call her back and set her straight.

I hit 'Star 69', and the phone rang twice before she answered.

"Jay, issss thisss youuuu?"

Olive wasn't crying; she was bawling.

"Olive, calm down, take a deep breath, and tell me what's wrong."

"You, you stopped answering meeee."

I heard her blow her nose before continuing.

"Mmmmotherrrr told meeee youuuu quit."

And then she hung up the phone. I sat on the floor, staring at the wall for twenty minutes waiting for Olive to call me back. When my phone didn't ring, I crawled back into bed and tried to fall asleep. Unfortunately, I couldn't turn off my brain.

'She sounds devastated. How did she get this number?'

'I should call her.'

"Hmmmph, screw that."

'I'll show her.'

'She needs me.'

'Hell no, not calling her back.'

'Should I fly to Paris?'

Nature calls. I need to take a leak while I figure out how to bring peace to the world.

I stood up and shuffled to the bathroom, mumbling, "Sleep. Who needs it? Sleep is overrated."

After shaking the dew off, I was awake and hungry.

"French toast, that's what I need."

Now I was talking to myself, which was normal growing up, as I opened the fridge and pulled out what I needed.

I had four pieces piled on a plate, steaming hot, covered with butter and syrup, and cut out in lovely, even squares when my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Jay? Please don't hang up on me. I stopped crying, but I need to tell you something."

"Um, okay, go ahead, I'm listening." I put two pieces in my mouth, savoring the taste of cinnamon as I chewed.

"I'm a bitch, have been since I was 12, and always thought I'd be one the rest of my life because nobody ever talked to me like you did. I went off on you because I couldn't believe you talked back to me, the great Olivet Mallory. After you hung up the phone, I trashed my office, then screamed at my staff before riding the elevator to the lobby and leaving."

She stopped talking, so I said, "I'm listening," and continued eating.

"The first-class flight attendants wanted to throw me off the plane over the Atlantic. The hotel staff rushed me to my suite so I wouldn't disturb guests in the lobby. They begged me to eat in my room."

She blew her nose, and I grunted, still eating.

"I kept it together that first week because you answered your work phone, but I was so angry when you hung up. When I called you last weekend, you didn't answer."

"Olive, how did you get my personal number?"

"That night when we, you know, I searched your room and found your cell and added my number to yours and vice versa."

'Ah-ha.'

"Yesterday, while talking to Clive Wentworth, a client, I started crying uncontrollably because I thought I'd lost you. I ended the session, claiming I felt ill, and Clive almost tripped over his feet trying to get out of the room, saying something about a weak immune system."

Another pause.

"You're doing fine. Please continue."

'Damn. French toast has never tasted so good before.'

She blew her nose loudly as I ate another piece.

"I returned to my hotel room and haven't left it. I've been nibbling on room service food and living on bottles of wine while waiting for you to call, buuuttt yoouuu diddnn'tt c-c-call meeee."

Olive started crying again, and I spoke quietly to calm her down. "Shush, baby, don't cry. Everything will be okay." I finished eating and burped away from the phone.

We talked for hours, and I told her why I had resigned and moved to my mother's house. We negotiated, and I made her promise to eat, shower, and stop drinking. In return, Olive made me promise to go back to work, stay out of Melia's bed, and call when I arrived home every night.

"So we've agreed to work things out and talk when you return. I have one more request, Olive."

"Okay?"

"You only have thirteen days left, including weekends. Take no prisoners and bring home the money."

Most people would probably think I should pursue Donna, Ms. 98% perfect mate, but I want Olive because I believe I'm perfect for her, and I'll never be bored. Time will tell.

*****

I returned to work the next day and apologized to Mrs. Mallory, but I no longer called her Melia, and I now spent my nights at my mother's house. After work, for a couple of nights, Melia tried to get me to come to dinner and talk.

I asked her a question.

"Mrs. Mallory, is my employment contingent on me visiting you in your private home after work hours?"

"Well, no."

"Then I must respectfully decline. You taught me a lot about the agency and other things, and I hope you will continue to share your experience with me, but on a personal level, I have to draw a line."

"But Jason, you can still call me Melia."

"I can't because Melia was my lover, while you, Mrs. Mallory, are my employer. I believe Olive and I can become friends, lovers, and maybe more. She mentioned you have an on-and-off again boyfriend. Perhaps you can reconnect with him?"

Her cheeks paled, and I thought she might faint.

*****

Every night, after reaching mothers home, I called Olive, and we talked on the phone for hours like we were in high school; well, she spoke, and I listened. After I got home, I curled up on the sofa while she told me everything that had happened that day until she started to fall asleep. Then I made dinner, went to bed, and rode the subway to work the next morning.

The night before Olive returned to New York, we had our usual talk, and I asked her if she wanted me to pick her up at the airport.

She hesitated, and after 30 seconds of silence, which was very unusual for her, she answered, "NO. Richard is picking me up and dropping me off at my condo. I have something planned, so wait for my text."

She hung up, and I made dinner while hoping the bitch inside wasn't returning with her.

***

As I walked into Olive's outer office, I had a spring in my step while all four women seemed on edge.

I asked Sylvia, "What time does Olive's flight arrive today?"

"12:40, Jason. I assume you'll pick her up?"

"No, Richard's picking her up, and I'll be staying here."

All four women took a breath and looked away from me. Interesting!

"Is Mrs. Mallory here yet?"

Sylvia blushed, looked down at her keyboard, and mumbled, "Um, no. She's taking the day off." At the same time, two of the women picked up their phones, and the third began typing on her keyboard.

Hmmm.

I tried to chat with them, and they all acted like they wanted me to disappear because I had body odor or drool on my chin. Now, I was getting nervous. I wandered around the building, and almost everyone followed me with their eyes. At 12:30, I went to the cafeteria and spotted Caitlin, one of the women in Olive's office, eating her lunch. When she saw me, she jumped up, dumped her tray in the trash, and raced me to the exit, but I was right behind and caught her near the elevators. At that moment, one elevator door opened, and her two coworkers stepped out, saw me, then stepped back inside before the doors closed and the elevator went down.

"All right, Caitlin, your coworkers deserted you, and the three of you are acting like you've been shoplifting at Macy's and got caught. What the hell is going on? Everybody in this building has been giving me weird looks today. Spill the beans."

"Mrs. Mallory was very specific. Anyone who ratted her out would be on unemployment the next day. That's all I can say, and if you don't let go of my arm, I will scream."

I removed my hand, and she began punching the elevator down button.

'Why would Melia threaten Olive's minions?'

When the elevator doors opened, I followed Caitlin in, and after she pushed the button labeled thirty-seven, I pushed the white one with the red 40 on it.

"Please, don't mention me to Mrs. Mallory...." She started whimpering, cutting off her statement.

I just stared at her. Caitlin backed off the elevator when the door opened, whispering, "I'll lose my job. Please, Jason, I have a four-year-old daughter. I can't start over...." The Elevator door closing cut her off.

I stepped out when the doors opened on 40 and punched in the code. The deadbolt was in use. With closed fists, I pounded on the door until it opened.

Melia was frantically tying her robe around her waist, then ran her fingers through her unruly hair. She had what looked like cum on her chin, and she was nervous as hell. I've seen this look once before; only I was the man she was trying to hide.

She spoke much louder than was needed, "Jason, why are you pounding on my door?"

As I slid past her, I said, "We need to have a serious conversation."

She stepped back but blocked me from going any further.

'Damn. Melia has a man in her bedroom. Why is she jumpy?'

"Jason, we need to talk after I shower and get dressed. Please wait downstairs in Olive's office, and I promise I'll tell you everything."

"Okay, Mrs. Mallory, I'll wait for you downstairs." I smirked and turned around.

My phone chirped as I opened her door, signaling I had a text. I let go of the door and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

The automatic door closer shut the door with a loud bang as I read my text from Olive, "Arrived safely at home. Richard bringing in contracts. Here is my address, Luv, Olive," and her address on 8^th Avenue was on a separate line.

As I looked back to say something to Melia, her bedroom door opened, and a man stepped out, tucking his shirt into his pants.

"DAD?"

"Um, Jason."

Finally, everything made sense; Melia was the woman he had an affair with when Mother kicked him out. Melia was still married to Claude then, so they kept their romance a secret until he passed away three years ago. Everyone in the building probably knew about their affair and that I'm his son. Super awkward. He insisted I consider working for Mallory Inc. to help Melia deal with Olive. Melia hired me, and I'll bet she didn't set out to seduce me, but my father had been overseas for three months, and she is a very sensual woman. Then the sudden breakup happened, but Melia didn't kick me out to appease Olivet; she was also trying to hide our affair from my father.

"Jason, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Melia and me, but we should talk now...."

He was still talking, but I was looking at Melia, pleading silently with me, using her lips, "Please don't tell him."

Ding. Another text. I looked down at it.

'Unbelievable!'

Distracted, I mumbled, "Um, sure, Dad, call my boss, and we can set up a double date, clear the air. Mrs. Mallory, Richard dropped Olive at her condo and is bringing in the contracts. I need to take the rest of the day off."

"But Jason, I need you to help me with the contracts."

"Mrs. Mallory, if that's what you want, why don't you invite my dad to help us? That way, we can catch up while we work, and I can tell him about my recent love life."

With eyes wide open, she quickly replied, "I'm sorry, Jason, I wasn't thinking. Take off the rest of the week, and when you return refreshed, we can go over Ollie's trip, the contracts, billing, and scheduling."