Monday, February 23, 2004

More Pollo, Less Arroz

Note: This was written over a month ago. Since then I have had more sex with the lawyer but he hasn't given me more work...hmmmmm

Nothing says "I want you" quite like preying on the desperation of a single mother. He's been my lover on and off for nearly a year now. I met him online and enjoy great sex and conversation while also suffering at the hands of his whims to suddenly attempt to rekindle a relationship with an old flame and his unwillingness to commit to anything beyond fuck buddy status. If only he weren't so damn charming with his droll sense of humor and incredible mouth. And despite the fact that he has an autographed picture of the first couple, Laura and the Shrub, tacked on to his wall, he's been incredibly understanding of my trying to make ends meet as a writer and single mother.
Maybe his intentions were noble when he called me after a few months of non communication and asked if I would like to have a little more pollo and a little less arroz. I sure as hell need the money with my latest freelance gig frozen but why did I feel dirty in accepting his proposition to occasionally translate in business transactions with Spanish dominant clients? Why did I feel like a desperate little Latina looking up at the big white tourist savior saying to me, " Chupa me y te compro arroz con habichuelas". But still when my cell phone rang with the song "Beautiful" ,a song we had drunkenly danced to once last year in a Williamsburg hipster bar, butterflies flew in my belly. He wasn't calling for a booty call however. He was making good on his word to get me some work. He asked about my availability the coming Friday during to day to translate for a Spanish speaking client at a closing for him. Of course I was available after dropping my daughter off at school. He gave me the address and time. When I asked if there was anything else I should know he told me not to wear anything too short. I was annoyed and slightly offended at his comment. Of course he had never seen me dressed professionally. When I began dating him I was a stripper, a long way from my three year prior stint at an investment banking firm. And while he had seen me in a simple black dress on out first date, I wore garters and stockings as well, at his request. But regardless I knew how to dress for a "real" job. Sensing my offense he then teasingly asked me if he should return the bra and panties I had left at his apartment the week before. I told him why not unless of course he wanted to keep them. We both laughed.

I spent the day before the gig in all the local department stores, searching the sale rack for anything sexy yet professional. I hoped he would be turned on by seeing me in a different light. I hoped that maybe we could have sex in an office after the closing. I hoped he would take me to lunch at the same Italian place we had met nearly a year ago for our first date. I hoped he would take the rest of the day off after the closing and that my best friend would pick my daughter up from school.
I didn't find anything appropriate in the stores but I did invest in a new black and white lace thong and a new pair of stockings and garter belt.. Hey I used to be a Girl Scout. I wanted to be prepared.

I hardly slept the night before. I tossed and turned fantasizing about what would happen. I imagined him in one of his nicer suits acting all lawyer like and me calling him "Licenciado" as I flashed a little bit of leg revealing what I was wearing underneath.

I woke up extra early so I could shower and shave every inch of me and still have time to make and pack a ham and cheese sandwich for my daughter. It was freezing outside. The cold traveled through my sheer stockings and up into my thong but I looked good. A few of the parents I see daily when I take my daughter to school even said so.
I quickly hopped on the train even though I had more than an hour to get to downtown Brooklyn. I especially did not want to be late and I wanted to have time to have a cup of coffee. As I sat on the train I noticed that not one woman wore a short skirt like me. I must have been crazy.
As soon as I rolled into Brooklyn I checked my cell phone to see if he had called me. I worried that the closing would be canceled meaning I froze my ass off for nothing but everything was going on as planned according to his phone message. I ran into the nearest Starbucks for a coffee and to get some words of encouragement from my best friend.
Soon after I was walking to the office. It as so cold that I couldn't feel my legs. I worried that my stockings were showing but I wouldn't be able to tell because of the numbness that had set in. I lost control of the frozen hand that was holding the coffee and ended up spilling some on my light pink coat.
I stepped out of the elevator and began looking for the suite he had told me to go to. As soon as I turned a corner I ran into him.

Now he didn't look as good as I had expected him to. I didn't like the suit he was wearing and I especially didn't like the tie. He had obviously cut his chin when shaving. I hate it when your fantasy lover proves to be human, bad taste and all. He showed me where to wait. He was next door in a bankruptcy hearing and would be with me shortly. He told me to greet the clients. He kissed me on the cheek, which wasn't expected but welcomed.
"How will I know who they are?" I asked
"They will be the only confused Latinos," he laughed obnoxiously. What did I find sexy about this man again?

In typical lawyerly fashion he came late and I had to entertain the clients as we waited. The actual closing took two hours. There was a stack of papers to translate and I stumbled on some of my financial terms. I was nervous because I felt like I was being judged not just as a consultant hoping to get hired again my the lawyer but also as a woman, a lover. Would this integration of fuck buddy and colleague work? I certainly was judging him. I had seen him on numerous morning after suiting up and running off to closings and appointments. He wasn't an asshole but he wasn't a particularly friendly lawyer either. In a strange sick way his style reminded me of my father;s own lawyering.

The clients left happy and I quickly accompanied the lawyer/lover to an ATM to collect my fee. I told him it was a pleasure working with him. He agreed and kissed me on the cheek goodbye and patted my ass. Yes he actually patted my ass. I wavered between being flattered and grossed out.

There was no lunch afterwards, no fucking on the conference room table. In fact I haven't seen my lawyer/lover since then. He's been out of town on business and pleasure I'm sure.

Now with the money I earned spent and sexless for two weeks I wait anxiously for my phone to ring again.