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I’m in the penthouse suite of one of New York’s most expensive hotels with a woman who has billions to her name. We’ve had half of a bottle of wine from her personal collection which I’m not even sure I could buy in America, let alone afford. My cheap lipstick is smeared on the lip of the expensive glass. Vivian is smiling at me with intimidating confidence. I’m forcing a nervous smile but can’t meet her eyes for longer than a passing glance. Where was the confidence I’d found while we were flirting in the lounge? It seemed to evaporate as soon as she invited me up here. I’d said yes almost out of fear. You’d think the wine would be helping but I’m nearly shaking in my seat, legs together and feet turned inward like a schoolgirl. She sits across from me, legs crossed, one of her shoes dangling from the tip of her pantyhose-clad foot.
This huge room is suddenly getting too small for me. It’s like the walls are falling in, approaching with some kind of ill-intent. The penthouse embodies austere opulence. New York is the essence of chaos. Vivian has an alien elegance. All I see is a contrast to everything I am. I feel I don’t belong in this city. I know I’m not in her league.
By all rights, I shouldn’t have even have been invited into this room.
This woman is in her early 40s and already has two CEO positions on her resume. She probably calls it a curriculum vitae, actually. She speaks 4 languages fluently and regularly visits every major cultural center in the world. She doesn’t drive herself anywhere. She doesn’t prepare her own meals. Vivian’s job is telling people what to do. Her family has a fucking crest attached to their name. She’s born into wealth that is older than New York itself. I bet that her personal net worth alone is enough to buy three blocks of the Upper East side and have enough left over to ensure the next three generations of her family never have to work. I think her outfit might be worth half my meager savings. Her personal residence is probably a chateau in France she only lives in for a few months out of the year. Penthouses like this one are her regular lodgings. Her idea of a getaway is probably renting a private island for a week.
So why me?
Driving a few hours from home to spend two nights in the cheapest room of this hotel is what I consider a memorable vacation. It’s the most lavish thing I’ve ever done for myself. I have a little over a thousand dollars in debt for every one of my 22 years on this earth. I’ll pay off my mortgage when I’m 60-something. I’m the kind of girl who would likely never have seen the inside of a penthouse suite in her life. I’m wearing my most expensive dress, a 500 dollar number with composite fabric. I was born to Sikh immigrants who sacrificed everything just to come to America. My family name is so common, that Vivian probably has hundreds of people working for her around the world with the same one. I’m the most successful person in my entire family as far back as my grandparents’ grandparents Tuzla travesti and all I’ve done is publish two fantasy novels while working my way up to retail management. I’m from a small coastal town, where I’m considered super cultured just because my parents taught me a bit of Hindi and Punjabi, which I speak with a thick American accent. I live the simple life, and was raised to cherish the little pleasures I can find for myself.
None of this makes sense.
“You’re overthinking, Manshi.” The sound of my name surprises me. The sound of her voice almost makes me recoil. I realize I don’t know how long I’ve been staring into my wine glass. I look up at her and see that intimidatingly confident smile hasn’t changed. She’s been watching me squirm in this lounge chair and it probably tickles her silly.
“Um… yeah. I’m sorry. This is just strange to me, I guess.” I say, trying not to sound as pathetic as I feel.
“Why is it strange?” I think she knows why, but she’s asking instead of reassuring me. I bet it’s because she wants to find out if I’m honest enough to say it. I inhale what I feel might be the last deep breath I take in her presence. I want to be honest.
“Well, you… and I don’t mean any offense… but you had me sign a non-disclosure agreement just to walk into the penthouse. You found me in the hotel lounge and had to dismiss your bodyguard after you spoke to me for 10 minutes.” I inhale quickly. It’s an almost shuddering breath. I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate, but I continue. “We hit it off but I’m not even sure why. The longest conversation we’ve had was about my vacation and the fact you just came back from a business deal in Dubai. Yes, we flirted. I loved hearing you speak French for me. Yes, said you’re attractive. I even surprised myself at how comfortable I was being forward with you. But then, I didn’t expect you to actually take a real interest. I figured it’d just be a cool story to tell my friends, you know? Like ‘hey, one of the richest women in the world was hitting on me’. I wasn’t expecting you to actually invite me up to your room… suite, I mean. I’ve never…”
I realize I’m talking way too fast and my voice is shaky. I look up at her. That smile is still on her face. I look away embarrassed.
“Sorry.” That came out sounding so mousy.
“You’ve never what?” She speaks calmly but it sounds like a roar in comparison. Fuck. What was I even about to say? Her eyes leveled me.
“I’ve never… I’ve never been in a situation like this.”
“You’ve never been picked up at a bar?” I can hear her smile in her voice.
“As a matter of fact, no. I’ve never done anything like that. This is my first… um… my first one-night stand.”
“So you think we’re going to sleep together?”
Fuck. Did I just put my foot in my mouth? I meet her eyes then, despite feeling like I’ve got a dumb look on my face. Did I just insult her?
No. That smile is still there. She’s obviously teasing Tuzla travestileri me. We flirted. She invited me up to her room. She opened up a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine. Do I really think she did it just to have a casual chat? Of course not. But she doesn’t say anything. She’s waiting for an answer. Vivian is… cheeky. Wow. Okay. That’s surprisingly disarming.
“Aren’t we?” I hear myself ask. Did I really just say that? Is that confidence coming back all of a sudden?
“It sounds like you want us to.”
“And you don’t?” Wow, I’m on a hot streak. I wasn’t being this forward when we were in the lounge. Vivian looks away. It’s not out of embarrassment, though. I follow her eyes quickly and see she’s staring out into the city skyline. I look back at her. Her smile is fading as she thinks. She looks back at me. I hold her gaze.
“I really, really do, Ms. Singh. But we have to cover something, first.” she says, with her smile coming back in full force. I blush. Did she just call me ‘Ms. Singh’? I thought we were on a comfortable, first name basis already. Fuck, I’m feeling knots in my stomach. My confidence is gone again.
“Um… like what?”
“That confidence you had in the lounge, the confidence which suddenly came back to you just seconds ago and just now seems to have disappeared again… it doesn’t seem to be something you’re totally comfortable with. It doesn’t seem to be who you are in your daily life. Am I wrong?” She’s reading me like a book.
“I… I guess not.”
“Well, I think it’s charming nonetheless, even if it isn’t the person you project to the world every day. I liked that you seemed to find that within yourself while talking to me. It’s a big reason why I invited you up here. Honestly, I think that confidence is the real you, hidden underneath all that shy modesty of yours.” I gulp. I audibly gulp. “If you want me naked and willing to do whatever comes to your mind, you’ll have to hold on to that confidence. So let me ask… why did it falter when you walked in here? Was it really the NDA, my bodyguard, or this overpriced penthouse suite?”
I’m holding her gaze with no problem now. Something about her voice, her words, is reassuring me that I don’t need to be so intimated by that smile of hers. Suddenly, I’m giving her a genuine, confident smile too. It’s back like a yo-yo.
“No. It’s not really those things. They’re just representative of the issue, I think. The real reason is the fact you’re so different than I am.”
“You mean wealthy, Ms. Singh?” She sounds insecure, suddenly.
“I mean powerful.” Wow, I just responded to that so quickly. I’m surprising myself again.
“Some people think that those two things are one and the same in this world.”
“Yes and no. The power I’m speaking of is in the way you carry yourself. I found confidence in sharing that power.” Holy crap, am I really saying these things? Where is it even coming from? It’s like a stream of consciousness. Travesti tuzla I’m looking deep into her eyes. She’s the one who looks away this time. Am I getting her flustered?
“What if I told you that I’m exhausted from projecting this confidence? That, like you, what I project to the world isn’t the real me? What if I told you that I want to relinquish all that power over to you?” She still can’t look at me, but her words hang in the air like she just told me to do something indecent during a game of truth or dare. They almost take my confidence away again. No. No way. I’m going for it.
“Then… I think it’ll be very easy for me to hold on to this confidence if it means I get to put you in your place.” There we go. That made her look up. She looks… shocked.
“What… what’s my place?”
“Between my legs, Vivian.”
“Is it really, Ms. Singh?” She says the words sheepishly. And just like that, I realize why she’s calling me by my last name. I pause. I’m not hesitating, though. I already know what I’m going to say next but I find myself comfortable letting silence do some of the talking for me. This is… fun. God, this is fun.
“Let me show you. Stand up, Vivian.” I say, leaning back comfortably on the chair, crossing my legs. I take a swig of the wine. She sets her down and stands up. “Strip down to your underwear.” Wow. This is happening. I’m making this happen. She removes her expensive top. Her lace bra seems to be hiding delicious treats. She unzips her skirt and shimmies out of it. The matching panties ride high on her hips. Her pantyhose hugs her legs, which are made all the more enticing by those heels.
“Keep the heels, Vivian. Lose everything else.” I’m going to take another sip of wine. Suddenly, it tastes even better than before. I feel myself empowered as it touches my lips and emboldened as I swallow it. She’s looking down at the floor. She has a cute smile on her face. Much less confident. Much more… real.
Vivian takes her underwear off. Stunning. Her body looks half its age. She has slight abs showing on her taut, delicious-looking tummy. But I’m not going to let her know that. I’m going to make her squirm like I was earlier.
“Spin around. Slowly.” She looks up at me expectantly. I only look into her eyes for a second, then dance them up and down her body. She does as she’s told. As she turns and gives me her back, she looks back over her shoulder at me. I’m not paying attention. I’m making sure she notices I’m staring at her ass. It’s perfect. She comes back around and I take note of her perfectly trimmed landing strip.
“Come.” I tell her. She walks towards me slowly, her hands behind her back, looking down at the ground again. She is so shy. So vulnerable. I stand up, keeping my wine glass in hand. I close the gap between us. I take a long drink from it, take her by the back of the neck, and make sure she takes me seriously. We share the wine, I give her my tongue and she gives me a moan. We complete the full exchange of power.
The walls of the penthouse are no longer falling in on me. Now the room seems like it isn’t big enough to hold me. My breathing is slow, calm and perfectly in control. I’m going to make Vivian change that soon. I’m putting her in her place tonight.