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uld order room service together and spend twenty-four hours fucking each other's brains out, thus fulfilling my fantasy.
However, my fantasy took place in Bali or somewhere exotic, with a beach-front room that we could walk out to when we felt like some sun or a splash in the crystal clear ocean.
If anything more happened with Ella, I might consider booking a couple of first-class seats to Bali for just that -- fulfilling my fantasy of escaping the city and spending a weekend alone, just me and my lover, eating and drinking and fucking and surfing and swimming together with no worries, no business, no emails. Just the two of us, some books, maybe watch some movies on the big screen television.
That seemed like a fantasy I could fulfil with Ella.
For the past five years, I'd been so busy building up my business that I hadn't really looked up from my desk except to plan my marriage and life with Christie. When that fell through, I'd immersed myself in work to the detriment of every other part of my life.
Now, I felt I deserved an escape.
Ella was like me -- down on romance and marriage. She wanted just great sex and to work on her career. Maybe, while I was trying to get the paper up and running and she was getting experience in the publishing business before starting her MFA at Columbia, we could be each other's escapes.
When I got to my apartment back at the office building, I had a quick shower and ordered in some Pho from a local restaurant that delivered. While I waited for it to arrive, I sat down at my desk and turned on my laptop, filled with an unusual energy, wanting to do something. On a whim, I bought a couple of tickets to Bali, leaving on Thursday. It was for a long weekend, Thursday through Tuesday, but it would be enough. Once the payment went through, I printed off the tickets and boarding passes and ordered a dozen roses to be delivered to Ella's office. I'd leave the ticket on her desk with a note that I wrote and enclosed in the envelope.
I fulfilled one of your fantasies. Here's mine. Meet me at the Emirates Airlines lounge before the flight and we can have a drink before boarding. You can use the sex-drenched weekend fulfilling my fantasies as fodder for your fledgling career as a bestselling chick-lit author.
Yours, Josh
I hoped she'd accept and that I wouldn't be left waiting in the lounge alone until the first boarding call. If she didn't show, I'd cancel the tickets and reschedule until she agreed but I hoped she'd have been happy enough with our little hotel room tryst to try for another bout -- this time for a whole weekend.
And there would be talking.
Three glorious days at an all-inclusive luxury beach-front hotel in the honeymoon suite with its own private pool and a beach front room.
Call me crazy, but at that moment, I was infected by a desire to escape to Bali with Ella and spend the time luxuriating in bed with her, walking the beach with her, and swimming naked in our own private pool.
It cost a cool thirty grand but that was nothing considering I hadn't had a vacation for years. I'd had my nose to the proverbial grindstone for too long and the little fantasy stay with Ella at the Ritz-Carlton made me realize how little real relaxation I'd had -- or enjoyment for that matter -- in too long.
I ate my Pho and read over my plans, and then dressed in my jeans and a t-shirt, I slipped into the elevator and dropped the envelope into Ella's office. I walked through the empty offices and thought about my accidental but very happy meeting Ella that day outside the building.
Skinned elbows and knees had never turned out to be so fortuitous.
The next morning, after my usual bike ride around Central Park, I went back to my apartment in the building and had a shower, then got ready for the day. Excitement grew in my gut that Ella would soon arrive at her office and hopefully, the flowers would have already arrived. She'd find the tickets and offer on her desk beside the flowers.
Then, I hoped that she'd accept and in a week, I would be waiting at the lounge, hoping to see her walk through the doors.
I arrived back at my apartment and after showering and getting dressed, I took the elevator to my office, eager to get to work.
When I arrived, I picked up my messages from my assistant and sat down behind my desk.
The first was from Marcella. I called her up, my sense of well-being falling a bit at the prospect of a date with one of her matches.
"What's up, Marcella? How's the headhunting business?"
"I have a couple of matches I think you'll really like. I'll drop by later this morning with their files, if you'd like. We can arrange meetings this weekend if any of them catch your eye."
I kicked myself. I should have let Marcella know that I'd put the wife-hunting on hold for a few weeks. I had too much going on at the moment with the paper and now, if Ella and I went to Bali, I'd be away for the weekend and wouldn’t have any time for a meeting.
"This next two weeks aren't all that good, Marcella. Sorry, but can we re-schedule until say, two weeks from now?"
"Sure," she said, sounding hesitant. "What happened? You seemed to want to get going immediately. What changed?"
"Nothing, just really busy with getting the renovation complete and ramping up with the newspaper."
"Okay. I'll pencil you in two weeks from now and hopefully, the weekend will be a go."
"I'm sure it will be."
