"You have a nine-thirty meeting with the board of directors about the six-percent projected increase in the fiscal budget, an eleven o'clock meeting with the legal team about the impending lawsuit form the Marks Corporation, a lunch meeting with Harry Thompson about his transfer to the Hong Kong office, and a two o'clock conference call with the regional managers from LA, Seattle, Atlanta, and Miami."
I could hear my secretary, Salina, calling out my schedule, but I was looking beyond her out of the floor-to-ceiling window. She had welcomed me at the door, cup of steaming cappuccino in her hand, just like she did every morning. She was an appealing black woman, tall, charming, beautiful caramel skin, with a flawless smile. The only thing that was flawed was that she always seemed so stressed out. I often wondered why she let her job as an executive assistant get to her so much. Granted, I was stressed out all the time as well, but I had much more to lose. Unlike me, Salina earned no more that $39,500 a year no matter how well she performed her job.
I looked up at her momentarily, standing firm like she was preparing for a military drill. "Salina, can I solicit a personal question?"
A nervous expression crossed her face, making me wonder if she was afraid of me. We were the exact same age but had never bonded. I was the vice president of corporate development, making 200K a year plus bonuses.
"Sure. You can ask," she responded.
"Do you ever just go out and have a good time?" I asked as I redirected my eyes to the window. There wasn't a cloud in the powder blue sky. "I mean, hang out with friends, party, have a good time, and let your hair down?"
Salina chortled. She was glowing at the thought of it. "Yes, my close friends and I all hang out then go to Spirit on West 27th Street on Thursday nights now and again."
"Thursday nights?" It was my turn to chuckle. "You go out on Thursday nights, Salina?"
Salina nodded her head and smiled. Then she sat facing me across the desk from one of the leather chairs. I don't even remember the last time she had actually taken a seat in my office, other than to take dictation. I was delighted. It felt relaxed; two ladies having a casual tête-à-tête.
"What about you, Tatianna? I mean, Ms. Ivanov."
"Tatianna is fine," I responded. "There is no need to be so formal all the time."
"Thanks."
I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted by her thank you. Did she think I was so buttoned up she had to show appreciation for calling me by my first name?
"So what about you, Tatianna? Do you ever just kick it?
I pondered her query. I wasn't sure that attending business dinners with clients or mind-numbing social engagements at the country club with my parents constituted hanging out.
"Salina, to be frank, I really don't know," I responded. "I go to a lot of places, fine restaurants and theaters, but I can't recall the last time I actually had fun."
I gazed deep into her brown eyes and recognized something I hated: pity. Yes I was pathetic. I needed to face the facts. All the money, power and security I had in my life meant nothing unless I was enjoying it.
My parents had groomed my brother and I to take our place in high society, plain and simple. My father made his millions in international trade after he moved to this country from Russia. My mother spent her days shopping and planning charity events. I went to school at Yale, where I graduated with honors and landed a job with Taylor and Associates before I moved out of my dorm.
There I was, in my corner office on West 59th Street over looking Central Park South, wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life. Salina didn't have a ton of money, but she had freedom. She could leave the office at five and do whatever she pleased. I had to play mediator over soft-shell crabs or spend my evenings going over stacks of paperwork. I truly envied her.
I shot up from my desk, startling Salina. She jumped up and waited for my instructions, assuming a military position again.
"I'm going out," I announced.
"Out? What about your meeting?"
"Cancel it!" I walked toward my private bathroom, snatching my Prada purse off my desk on the way. "In fact, cancel all of my appointments. I'm taking the day off."
"But, Ms. Ivanov, I mean Tatianna," she stammered. "What am I supposed to tell everyone?"
"Tell them I'm sick or something, be creative." I was about to shut the bathroom door when a light bulb went off in my head. "Salina, after you cancel all of my appointments, take the day off as well."
"Are you kidding?" She put her hand on her hip, striking a pose. A big smile came across my face. She looked good like that.
"Yes, Salina, I'm serious. I have never been more serious in my life. Go out and have some fun today!" I exclaimed.
"Thanks, Tatianna" she smiled at me with pure excitement. "I will see you tomorrow then?"
"Maybe, maybe not," I winked, knowing well and good that taking two days off in a row would be pushing it hard. They would probably send the police to my penthouse to make sure I was alive.
Salina swayed out of my office with more perkiness than I had ever seen. I went back in the bathroom and gazed in the mirror. Now, I was radiating with a newly found energy. I felt so alive and invigorated that my toes tingled. The mere thought of dismissing my responsibilities for an entire day was exhilarating.
I took a good look at myself and decided I appeared to be more like forty than my genuine thirty years. My business hair and makeup, not to mention this stuffy conservative suit put age on me. I pulled the pin out of my blond hair and let it cascade down to my shoulders. It had been so long since I physically and symbolically let my hair down.
I took off the jacket of my Donna Karan suit, unbuttoned the top button of my white silk blouse. I looked younger already. I turned to the side so I could see the profile of my body. My breasts were as full and pert as ever. Too bad I had to keep them tied down and under wraps in the work place. I was a shame that I couldn't show off my natural assets more often.
I quickly prepared myself for a day of leisure and fun. I was determined to savor and enjoy this beautiful day. Then I thought about the park. Every day, I looked down from the twenty-first floor at the tiny people taking pleasure in life in Central Park. I just had to take a walk in the park.
I emerged from my office building ten minutes later and took air into my lungs. It felt wonderful. As I made my way through the park, people seemed to be enjoying themselves everywhere. They had lives, unlike me.
I was getting a little tired of walking and spotted an ice cream vendor near by and grew excited. I had not had an ice cream cone in years; just fancy desserts like biscotti and compote. I half-ran over to the vendor and took a five out of my Prada purse. I asked for a double scoop of chocolate on a waffle cone. I paid the nice man and then turned around just a basketball materialized out of nowhere and struck the cone, smashing it into my white silk blouse. The ice cream left a big brown circle over my left breast. I was pissed and my precious ice cream was on the ground.
I looked up and saw the culprit coming in my direction. I wanted to curse him out, but I was raised well: people make mistakes. He was a good-looking man: about 5' 11" with steel blue eyes, dark brown hair and a fit, athletic perfectly tan body. I envisioned the type of woman he would date. I was definitely not the type of woman he was looking for.
He frowned. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm just fine." I smiled at him and pointed to my blouse. "Just a stain."
"Please let me buy you another cone. That's the least I could do." He picked up the melting cone and tossed it into the nearest receptacle. "Let me pay to have your shirt cleaned."
"Oh that's not necessary. Really."
