Posts Tagged ‘seduction’
by hannah
October 18th, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 18: KNIGHT IN DARK ARMOR)
Ireland, Celeste, and I are sipping cocktails on large deck chairs at the pool. Well, except for Celeste, who is sipping mineral water.
“Special lady friend?” I tease, taking a sip of my cocktail, which is a lot vodka and a little soda.
Ireland hikes up her dress again because it’s barely covering her massive assets—a testament to why a twenty-year-old Hollywood producer wants to play house with her while his parents are out of town.
“I think it means he likes me,” she says winking.
“My dad calls some of my mom’s friends his ‘special lady friends,’” says Celeste. “But she doesn’t seem to like that.”
“Doesn’t it imply someone you just like to get your rocks off with?” I feel Jack and I have talked about this term of not-so-endearment.
Celeste scowls at me.
Ireland lights up a cigarette. “How would he know what anything means? He’s twenty.” She adjusts her top again and points across the pool from us. “See that guy in the ponytail and white jeans?”
by hannah
October 13th, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 17: THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE)
The blue electronic clock lights up 9:33 p.m. on my dash as I drive home from the office. I turn the volume up on a good beat coming from KCRW. I crack my sunroof and breathe in the stiff air.
In a town like Los Angeles, you hear a lot about women and men sleeping their way to the top. The streets are littered with posers, and everybody wants to be a celebrity. Sex-and sex tapes—seem to be the golden ticket—Jack has often vouched for that and Holly seems to be living proof. But I was never one of those people. There was no “top” I wanted to sleep to—not here anyway. Sure, I enjoyed the paychecks; and I’d gotten good promotions and the paychecks had gotten bigger. But that was about the only thing I enjoyed. I was just biding my time. Waiting for The Ex and I to get married and then for me to get knocked up and quit. And then…I never planned that far ahead.
The sultry sounds of “I Put a Spell on You” come through the airwaves, and I can’t help but find it apropos for what happened tonight. I had crossed a line I never thought I would. I can’t even explain what came over me. It was like I was somebody different, someone…empowered—or completely screwed in the head. I’m not exactly sure what I slept my way into, but it was exactly how I always envisioned it would be.
I crank the volume louder.
by hannah
October 11th, 2010
Photo: Corbis
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 17: THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE)
My office line rings. Why is my office line ringing at eight at night? I look at the caller ID. Why is Phillip Ferrari ringing me on my office line at eight at night?
I think about not picking up. He can’t know I’m here. He probably wants to leave me a voicemail about a project; he might even get irritated if I pick up the phone and prevent him from leaving a voicemail—he’s that type of man. Then again…
I prep myself to express both surprise and fatigue: “Hello?”
“I noticed your light was still on.” His voice is static, yet deep and purposeful. “Are you working on the Benson project or the Bridgeloft project?”
I can’t quite put my finger on Phillip Ferrari yet. He works—all the time—and he makes everyone feel like they’re not working enough. All he ever talks about is work—even when we’ve gone out to research “everything L.A. has to offer” as “friends.” He doesn’t like anything about Los Angeles; he complains about how it’s not New York: the service is slow, the people don’t care about their appearance, everyone’s always going somewhere but nothing ever gets done. If he has a drink, it’s only ever one type: Lagavulin single-malt scotch, straight up. I once moved his attaché to make room for some paperwork; he moved it back. His clothes are never frumpled, even when it’s hot; he always rolls up his sleeves—two times, exactly—when he’s not wearing a jacket; and he never talks about his private life, maybe because he doesn’t have one. He lives and breathes his career. How I wish I did.
He repeats his question and I snap out of it. “The Benson project; I’m not on the Bridgeloft project, remember?”
“Can you come into my office?”
