Chapter 5

After Daniella disappeared, it was my turn to crumple into the single, lonely chair. Ever-brighter morning sunshine did little to reduce the gloom swallowing me. Overreaction, sharpened by sleep-deprived exhaustion? Perhaps. We’d literally been no more than strangers passing in the night. Nothing more.

Yet, the rest of the weekend passed in fits and starts. Somehow, after a restless nap, I completed my part of the Mongolia assessment. Then it was time to reduce that ache deep in my loins.

“Mmm, Daniella,” I mumbled beneath the shower’s needling spray.

Fist racing along my cock and face battered by steamy water, every curve of her body filled my memory, plus the impish grin, hungry eyes, and that luxurious soft hair. Never had I cried out while blasting great looping strands of twinkling jizz across the wall’s suds-streaked tiles, but I did that day.

Come Monday, I sat at my desk, once more buried in the routine. With one enormous difference: every woman to enter my view got compared to Daniella. She of my dreams ... and fantasies.

Except the ardor fizzled. As the weeks went by, I’d gaze at my phone. Yes, her number had been added to its contacts, and my finger had almost dialed more than a few times. But her scent had faded, replaced by the neutral floral cleaner the maid used. Thus, with memories fraying under the reality, the diamond she sported—on her finger, not the lower one—the phone would slip from my hand.

For the record, after a couple of stiff scotches in a downtown bar, I did a little research. Just beyond the concrete river amid similar establishments on “Sinner’s Row,” the club where she danced was high-end. Oh, and yes, my guess had been correct. It’s forte? Full-nude dancing and “entertainment.” “Platinum Dreams” might have been a haunt of dad’s, but I didn’t bother asking. His focus remained on Mongolia, as mine should’ve been.

Besides, even if she wanted to cheat, I still had no plan. Nor would that solve my newly uncovered, longer-term needs. Perhaps “gaping voids” was a better description.

Sensing weakness, the universe decided to play hard-ball, flinging a tricky pitch. Okay, on some level, I also chose to be deceived.

About a week after the Mongolia report, all twelve-hundred dense pages, squatted complete on my desk, I noticed motion and looked up. Just as she passed the doorway to my office, a slender young woman gave me the tiniest of winks.

That’s it. A simple flutter of a single eyelash. On any other day, I would have given her a polite nod and carried on with life, dad’s voice echoing in my skull. “Piece of skirt only wants your money.” “Not worth the fuck and the ‘hashtag metoo’ issues.”

No, not just a skirt. Cute as all heck, Eliza, a young account manager, wore platinum blonde hair in a bob, short with bangs. A new hire, she didn’t work for me but supported the other project managers while learning the ropes.

So, by all rights, I shouldn’t have returned the wink. Yes, Daniella still haunted me, but she was back home ... with her husband. My motivation was simpler. The one takeaway I couldn’t shake from our encounter: loneliness. My brain simply reacted, hopeful of filling that void.

The next day, my sleep schedule better but not fully adjusted, I’d arrived at work early after a pre-dawn run. Not a hint of rain meant I stayed on the longer route, only giving the footbridge the quickest glance while passing its graceful white arches. Between gray cubicle walls, Eliza’s light was on, and I slowed my march across the floor. When I changed direction, ending up at the entrance to her small area, she sensed my presence, spinning a black mesh chair to look up at me.