I walked into the building, and there he was just as he had described himself when spoke on the phone. A tall white man with brown and gray hair standing near the elevators, holding a briefcase and wearing a pinstriped business suit, with blue and red striped tie. He was, actually, quite attractive and the suite spoke of money a lot of money. I walked up to him, extending my hand.

“Sandy Leary, Mr. Daystar I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, with a bright cherry smile on my face. He took my hand lightly in his, gave a small squeeze of my hand, let go of my hand, and he wiped his hand with a handkerchief. In fact, he constantly wiped everything he touched with his handkerchief.

“John Daystar, MS Leary, and the pleasure are all mine, I sure,” he said, as grin crossed his face, giving me the impression he knew exactly how handsome he was.

“I think you will like this place it is furnished, including all the kitchen extras china, pots, pans, silverware and a nice home entertainment room with latest in all areas,” I said, hopeful he would take this property off my hands. I had bought it to make a buck, and then the bottom fell out of the market. When a realtor goes into flip a property, she should expect to have the rug pulled out from under her. Putting my key card in the elevator marked private, I continued the conversation. “This is the private Elevator for about eight of the most exclusive condos in the building. One of each on floors two, four, six, eight ... well, to be specific, every other floor, starting with 2 and ending on the 16th floor. The reason for that it is every other floor is that each of the Luxury condos two story units.”

“But listen to me,” I stopped my sells pitch. “Just rushing ahead no pleasant chit chat. Sorry, I tend to ... over explain things.” The elevator door slid open. “Let’s ride up to sixteen, that is the property ... the one you came to see, the one you will love. And, might I say, the most luxurious apartment, no excuse me, condo, in the building!” We stepped in, and I pressed the button marked sixteen, a LED display flashed Insert Key-card to proceed. Shoving the key-card in, the doors of the elevator slid shut making light bumping sound.

“Now, you do have a front door your guest, or delivery people will come up the regular elevator. This elevator is only for the use of owners of the luxury units.” The floors slid by as we moved up and he seemed to look me over, I sensed hungry eyes roaming over my body taking as much of the view as he could. They were quite ravenous eyes. Honestly, it made me, somewhat, uncomfortable. “No expense was spared in this condo. The furniture, the fixtures, and the design elements are all superior. The security system is also the top of the line, and you can choose from a Variety of companies for monitoring purposes.”

“I’m sure all that is fine MS Leary,” he said, the timber of his voice staunch and formal. If I’m going to get him to buy I need him to be more comfortable with me. I turned my head toward the man, flashed him my devil may care million-dollar smile. The temptation arose to flutter my eyes, rather than that I gave him a flirtatious gaze. My discomfort at his lustful stare, notwithstanding, I need the sale, so friendly is the order of the day.

“No, not MS Leary. Just Sandy, please, Mr. Daystar.” I hoped this would begin to break the ice. I need to feel I’m moving him toward the purchase of this place. I was desperate for this sell. This property drove me to edge of bankruptcy me, my circumstance required I unload it, and soon.

“Alright then if you will call me John,” he insisted, what a good sign.

“Okay then, John,” I said in agreement. The elevator came to a stop, and the door slid open, “I think you’ll love this place. First, let’s look at the living room.” As we emerged from the elevator into the apartment, I moved my arms wide to show him the room, twirling. He walked out and looked around nodding his head. He would run his hand over a table or chair, then run the hankie over the same place, a neat freak I guess. “Over here is the fully stocked wet bar, of course, it will be your responsibility to restock it when the need arises. Oh, by the way, would you care for a drink?” I said, moving behind the bar.

“No, I don’t believe so ... not right now, maybe later, Sandy. Wow, I must say, this place is as advertised, totally something else. And the art, my God, the art’s superb.” He looked at one of the paintings on the walls.

“All are from contemporary up and coming artist. That is by...”

“Yes,” he broke me off, “I recognize the work, wonderful piece, it’s called ... Murder & Mayhem. He is a fine creative artist, a twisted, angry soul ... shows his torture in his work. This is from his period just after his release from prison. They accused him of raping one of his models. Can’t trust her type, gold diggers for sure. Of course, she’s the inspiration for the woman in this piece, had to see in the dismembered parts, though.” He turned and looked at me, that glaring, lustful look again, “Not a good way to treat a lady, but then again, she’s no lady. What do you think should happen to a woman that makes false accusations of rape?” I did not respond to the comment, wishing to avoid any entanglement in a political view. It is quicksand for a realtor to disagree with a client on anything political.

“All of the art goes with the property,” I said, redirecting the subject of conversation. “I assure you will appreciate all of the quality artists represented here.” Moving on quickly sidestepping the issue, “Now if you will come this way this is the first-floor balcony. As you can see it has a wonderful view of downtown.” We walked out the wind blew across us, cool and refreshing. He looked up at the sky.

“No balcony on the second floor?” he looked disappointed.

“The entire seventeenth floor of this building will be yours. A balcony stretches the whole west side of the building, the master bedroom opens to the balcony. There is a wonderful view of the mountains.” I told him, his face brightened, his eyes crinkled, a smile spread across his face.

“There’s the ticket, just the place to entertain my female friends at sunset!” he said, I smiled a knowing smile at him. I hoped I wasn’t putting the wax on to thick. One never knows with the mega rich just what will work.

“Yeah, this place seems great Sandy. We can see the seventeenth floor in a minute. You have wet my appetite now,” he said, an odd ring in his tone. He looked around as we went back inside to the living room. I stayed silent for a moment letting the property talk to him. “Is it quiet Sandy? Will the neighbors bother me, with their dogs, children, or noisy parties?” He walked behind the bar and poured a drink, looked at me and shook my head. He picked his drink up and gulped it down, as I answered him he washed the glass, dried it, returning it to its proper place. He picked up the bottle with a towel and wiped it off as well. Total neat freak I thought.

“This condo is sound proofed. The neighbors on this floor could be yelling at the top of their lungs at one another,” I told him, “we would never hear it. The family below could be watching a war movie not one peep would disturb you.” I smiled at him holding my hand out for him to enter the dining room. “Formal dining room it features this cherry wood antique dining table and chairs. Just beyond that is a breakfast room or non-formal dining room while the kitchen is here.” I pushed open the door and showed him the room.

“Chef will want to look that over, not me,” he said, spoken with just a hint of snobbish superiority in both manner and tone. He ran a finger over another surface, checked it for dust, the again wiped the area with the cloth.

I then led him to the next room, “The Great Room or the Family room sir. Right now, set up as a dancing room. Well, you could say a small ballroom. It was used that way by the owners before I purchased. They would entertain guest with a string quartet or small orchestra performing, the couple and their guest danced the nights away,” I said, trying to appeal to his snobbery.

He looked around the room nodding his approval. It had lavish woodwork on the walls. Tucked in one corner was the staircase that led to the upper floor. He turned his back to me for a moment, then he pivoted back to me.

“I take it the bedrooms are all upstairs?” he questioned me, turning his stare upward to the ceiling. “I very much want to see that master bedroom.”

“Yes, two large bedrooms, plus a magnificent, oversized master bedroom,” speaking as I strolled to the stairs “Follow me,” I marched up the stairs. “Oh,” I stopped, turned my upper half his direction, “The ten-seat home theater is up here as well. I think you will be most impressed with it.”

“Nice,” he said, with no further elaboration as he trailed me. Once again, I could feel his hungry eyes undressing me. I was even more uncomfortable than I had been before, I wanted the sale, but I could sense his wanton lust. I began to think, perhaps, I had dressed wrong for the meeting. I was in a short skirt which was black and a silk blouse also black, rather sheer, I was sure he could see my bra through it. I had on silk pantyhose with a rose pattern and blacked strapped high heels.

I stopped at the top of the stairs, “Not too steep for you, are they?”

“Not all Sandy, not at all too steep. Tell me how many other realtors have property listing?” I had never had that question before, not in seven years. It was not relevant as it was my property.