For Nadrea the time passed particularly quickly, her mind filled with tempting delights and perverted curiosities of last night. During the day Nadrea’s things were delivered to Vincent’s room at the W. They were once again unpacked, repressed and steamed the hung in the dark armoire with care. Like color pallets grouped together, filling the cabinet.

As the day wore on Nadrea toiled away, but by 2:00 Vincent had wrapped up his business headed out to the gym for some cardio before returning to the W for a quick nap. As Vincent entered the cardio theater, a dimly lit room the scent of antiseptic mixing with sweat and pure unadulterated stench associated with physical exertion, small red and green colored lights bathing the users in their soft glow mixed with flashes of chrome and the occasional reflective strip on a running shoe. People pushing themselves forward with great effort but without advancing even an inch, running and pedaling faster and faster, the increasing speed and velocity. Their heaving breaths combined with a sea of salty sweat pouring off their heated bodies, the sting of sweat soon to be pouring off of Vincent’s brow that had been slathered with Vaseline in order to direct the outcome of his efforts down the side of his face away from his eyes as his own salty stream flowed over his cheeks before it crossed his jaw and dripped onto his massive chest and arms. Vincent joined the cloned headset adorned masses in the darkness, staring like drones at the television screens projecting one of millions available images from their cathode ray tubes and LCD panels at forty three frames per second on each of hundreds of channels.

Steve followed suit back in DC by beginning to wrap up his daytime existence at 4:30, the remainder of his public day would be spent inconspicuously fumbling behind a wooden bar serving drinks to strangers. He would shift from the real world of large complex numbers to disregarding micro measurements for approximate quantities producing relatively the same cocktail in taste and content, but it was not at all scientific. The libations while unidentifiably different were not at all to his exacting mathematically standards. So he stood behind the bar in his relatively thankless position and seeming to posses an inferior intellect would struggle to quickly produce libations while parched patrons patiently placate themselves with pleasant conversation.

The Husker stopped by for a drink, Christy had herself firmly planted in tow. She was like a jealous child who was futilely attempting to hold his attention completely undivided until of course Donna arrived.

“Robert!” Steve exclaims thrilled to see a friendly face. “How are you doing”

Robert returns a warm smile “I’m doing well. How have you been?”

Pointing to a growing list of drink tickets, “Behind as always.”

Steve had not yet gotten to the point of laughing at his own inept abilities. Christy rolling her eyes dreading the seemingly eternal wait asked “Can we order?” in a mocking tone.

Steve didn’t take it that way “Sure nice to see you again.”

Steve’s evening was getting brighter.

“Fume Blanc” she barked at him before Robert added “and a Grey Goose Martini please.”

Soon Christy began to press Robert for his weekend’s schedule.

“Brunch on Sunday”.

She pressed again with a scorned tone “Really?”

The Husker’s irritation was growing, but he didn’t let it show. Her presses, the intrusion, the unwanted inquires continued and he again side stepped her, in true political fashion, repeating the question, then provided a noncommittal answer. The drinks arrived quickly, being a known face most often has its advantages, this case was no exception. Steve was still miserably behind but aswas always the case persistence pays off and he began to catch up as orders for wine by the glass, and beer started coming in rather than the complex cocktails that require the ability to mix the right contents into a glass, making his life moderately more bearable. Donna who was not running late but was thirty feet away at the other end of the crowded bar, they simply haven’t spotted each other yet. Donna looked impatiently at her phone to see if the Husker had called yet and began to wonder back toward the hostess stand in the vestibule but spoted him at the bar. The hair on the back of Donna’s neck stood up as she sees Christy, she can’t stand the sight of the nebby little bitch. An overzealous control freak nobody neb nose, who didn’t have sense enough to get out of the way of her impending doom. Like a deaf and blind man standing in the middle of the rail road tracks, feeling the vibrations as the train bears down on him but doesn’t move.

Donna in her evening attire, a dark, but casual dress approaches the pair and greets Christy with a warm hello before kissing Robert and placing herself firmly in between the pair. She was marking her territory becoming a shield between the woman who thought she controlled his life and the one who had unintentionally been gaining an influence over him who unlike Christy that had never been her intention. She was territorial, and while Donna gently placed her hand on the Husker’s back and he leaned in closer to her enjoying her touch and the gentle tickling sensations her hand was creating Christy’s displeasure became subtly evident.

Christy continued to regard Donna as nothing more than a set of holes for some distant male primal need and nothing more. A worthless concubine to be discarded at a later date, set aside like last elections campaigns slogans and promises. How could Donna be anything more to him than a tawdry plaything without intellect or value other than an outlet for Robert’s sexual release? Despite her hopes and intentions Christy saw that woman, no matter how polite and well dressed, as a symbol of nothing more than Robert’s innate undeniable maleness. Something that almost always surfaced even in the best intentioned men of power and influence, was lust and sexual conquest not for the biological need it fulfilled or the pleasure it derived but for the possession and power that such acts could convey.

During the same time in NY Nadrea was retrieving her hotel key from the front desk of the office. Her parent’s housekeeper had it messengered over after her clothes had been delivered and unpacked. Soon after she joined the crushing masses on the Friday afternoon street in lower Manhattan, the working class mingling with the wealthy and tourists on the streets of the city. She was trying to do the nearly impossible, catch a cab during the late Friday afternoon rush. The only thing that would have made it worse was if it had been raining. This was one of those times where wealth and looks had little to do with ones chances of success, instead it was like winning the lottery jackpot, nothing more than pure random luck that an empty cab would stop.

Back in DC the bar crowd had begun to thin as tables were turned from the first dinner seating and in large part the cocktail crowd scurried from their work lives to their family lives, their wallets a little bit lighter, a few new off color out of the office stories to tell to friends and family over the weekend like the little gossips that the professional world creates. Steve finally got a chance to drift back to the Husker, Donna, and Christy to talk. “Good night for tips?” Christy asked cutting off the otherwise polite conversation, an attempt to demean Steve.

“No idea. I don’t really keep track.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter as long as the rent gets paid” her tone bitter and indifferent. Steve still had a genuine interest in her, he still wasn’t catching the intention of her tone just smiled saying, “ I do this a few nights a week to keep busy, it kills time and I get to meet a lot of people.”

Christy feigned interest. “Really so what else do you do?” She expected a menial job at best some low level office drudgery, in her mind he didn’t seem capable of something nearly as important as choreographing with obsessive compulsive tendencies every conceivable second of an important man like Robert’s life.

“I work with numbers” Steve offered.

“An accounting clerk?” Christy asked hoping he would finally realize her displeasure in talking to him and he would go away.

Steve laughed, it was not like when Vincent laughed, a persistent laugh because he was enjoying every possible second of life he could but because Steve found the mere thought of being an accounting clerk absolutely hysterical. He went on to explain that he spent his days calculating the impossible, the commercial potential of an advertising campaign, the economic impact globally of investments in to a foreign nation, its effect on the standard of living the likely hood that it would be misappropriated by those in power to further their control, their influence and their wealth. Steve looked at Christy as he explained that he had an Ivy League education for both undergrad and his post grad work. He wasn’t insulted, but for once while mindlessly pouring drinks he had a chance to tell someone about his real life. To Christy suddenly, although nothing else had changed, except for a few words he had spoken he was interesting and acceptable, her own sense of reality was that he was doing this as part of a field study, why else would he be standing behind a bar.

Back in NY Sometime later Nadrea let herself into the room to find Vincent parked in front of the plasma TV watching sports, clad only in a thin pair of gym shorts and Adidas sandals.

An inquiring look crossed her face as she began “Nice to see you’re dressed up.”

Not looking away from the TV “Nice high end Liberian look.” Vincent said with a smirk continuing “You know it doesn’t do anything for me.” Vincent just laughed with the conclusion of the sentence.

Nadrea noticed the unmade bed through the doorway into the next room. “Enjoying a bit more company with out me?”

Vincent laughed again “Yep and she was mind blowing. You might want to call house keeping to change the sheets.”

Nadrea playing “Or else you can have that side”

“Better look before you make that call. You might want to have them send up a mop.”

Now Nadrea was the one laughing, Vincent’s tone was so mocking, it was a dead pan give away. “Why did you wet the bed during your nap?”

Vincent just smiled at the thought but she had already grown bored with the topic and playful banter re-engaged with what she perceived to be a much more serious and pressing issue “What are the plans for tonight?”

Vincent looked up and with a sense of in difference “Up to you.”

Nadrea pretended to be annoyed but in truth was relieved, she felt the pressure of an uncertain evening was off and she was thrilled to be able to proceed with her evening’s plans with out dispute or debate. Compromising is not one of Nadrea’s better qualities. Turning on a dime she stated to an open room, “Good, we’ll leave to be at a gallery show at eight, then have dinner with some old friends at nine thirty then off to where ever from there.”

“Fine”

It was in fact nothing more than a simple agreement in his intonation. Nadrea hid her own response to his single word reply, which she interpreted to be a curt response full of ambivalence and grave indifference. For Nadrea the stress filled ritual of preparation to go out began, the first of which was to fire up her laptop, connecting the external speakers and launching a favorite iTunes play list, to drown out Vincent’s television audio. The second consisted of ordering enough Vodka, liquors, mixers, and Martini glasses to get everyone on the floor fairly well lit up. As she poured for herself a Kettle One Martini dirty for herself, Vincent wondered away from the front of the TV a place he had occupied seemingly without the intent of moving since before she had arrived home. He poured four ounces of Vodka over a few ice cubes splashing in a few shots of Cranberry juices turning the drink just the slightest shade of pink.

Nadrea was in the shower rinsing off, buffing away dry skin, and obsessively shaving already smooth sections of her body ensuring that the minimal potential hair growth since the morning. As she stood under the warm streams of water, steam filling the room she was quietly hoping Vincent would find his way in to join her ,but he was still in the other room decompressing, staring mindlessly at information that he didn’t care about and that didn’t matter, it was meaningless data that had no real impact in his life other than being a diversion. For a man who often seemed not to care, he had to work at not worrying about the small things it was the excruciating attention to detail in the few things that impacted his life that mattered. Vincent sat there in his shorts and sandals sipping his vodka, not thinking about much of anything.

Soon after Nadrea was putting lotion on her skin, doing her hair and contemplating the severity of her makeup for the evening, Her undergarments were chosen and soon she found her self staring at the armoire, unlike Vincent’s gaze her was intense and mindful. She treated things like the choice of clothing as if it were a world altering event, the message, the perception of her look conveyed. As Nadrea fretted over what to wear Vincent ran a comb through his hair, rubbed the five o’clock shadow on his face and slipped into a pair of black flat front gabardine wool pants, and a striped Thomas Pink spread collar shirt, dull black loafers and plain black Armani socks he had picked up earlier in the week from Saks. For as much though as Nadrea had put into laying out three things to choose from, Vincent had dressed completely, looking quite sharp and watched five more minutes of TV.

While Nadrea pondered her choices Vincent began. “In general I like Julianni, he did a lot of great things, the city is much safer than it used to be but it’s too fucking clean.” Nadrea continued to look over her potential choices as Vincent continued. “And what the fuck happened to the porn, ok get rid of the pushers and the hookers, the hookers all found their way down to the Javits center so where did the porn shops go? Now they sell teddies and sundries to meet the stupid ratio, but what if I want a good magazine?” Nadrea chimes in “Or the latest dildo”

Vincent almost caring that she joined in the conversation “A decent porno. Might as well order your porn online or through a catalog like you live in the Midwest.”

“Oh there’s still everything you could ever want here you just have to look a little more. It’s mostly time square that was cleaned up.” Nadrea finally decided on a short skirt and tight blouse, finalizing her decision that she would wear her hair down and only moderately high heels.

“Where are we going?”

“To a gallery opening,” she replied.

“Tell me it’s not going to be all old people drinking cheap wine thinking they know something about art.” Vincent was slowly becoming more of the man Nadrea had gotten to know.

“Not old people, really old people, and boxed wine” she said coldly hoping to keep his interest while she finished her third drink of the preparation ritual, Vincent sipped lightly on his second but he was standing behind the table watching the Friday afternoon melee on the city streets. The pre-theater dinner and local after work crowd was being joined by the mostly and overtly non native New York tourist idiot tourists, most of who probably hadn’t seen a high rise let alone live or work in one. Nadrea decided that her look needed a little bit of stimulation and went to a higher heel and slightly brighter lipstick than she originally intended.

“Pour me another,” she called putting the finishing touches on her outfit with earrings and accessories.

“Why so I have to carry you around tonight?” Vincent answered already pouring her next martini.

“Sounds fun to me. Being thrown over your shoulder, mmm delicious possibilities”

Vincent was only moderately amused “Like leaving you passed out in an alley propped up on the trash bags when I get tired of carrying you. With your ass hanging out from under your skirt”

Nadrea annoyed “Not quite what I had in mind, I was thinking more of a rugged cowboy type throwing a protesting me over his shoulder and carrying me away”

Vincent has just poured his third drink. “Last time I checked I have never ridden a horse” “Never fucked a fat girl, huh?” She was feeling playful adding, “I’m only suggesting, I didn’t say you had to wear chaps and a cowboy hat Vin.”

“That’s good because I hate the cowgirl look even more than the librarian look.” He laughed but she was getting defensive.

“I’m a lawyer, I have to look professional.”

He continued to laugh as her annoyance began to show. “Might want to go change your outfit.” Nadrea was now becoming self-conscious she absolutely hated that, it wasn’t often that she was filled with doubt, but Vincent had a way about him that she questioned all the little things she obsessed about even more when he was around.

Her tone softened to an almost shy, “Why?”

“Because all the old fucks at the art gallery are going to be hitting on you, while extolling the virtues of Viagra. You might cause an unhealthy spike in erectile dysfunction drug usage.”

Nadrea grinned at the thought of a room full of hopeless men wanting her, it is what most often motivated her, her looks were by nature exotic with her angular eyes and dark hair complemented by the sexuality that she worked quite hard to make sure came through, although it always looked effortless to others. She was very much a sexually driven being, not accustomed to feelings of doubt and insecurity, a point that she chose not to dwell on. Her own self worth was largely based on her perception of how desirable she was to others, being lusted after by everyone mattered to her whether or not she had an interest in them wasn’t at all relevant.

Steve continued to babble away at Christy back in DC, she still overly self important had begun treating him as a second class citizen which was an improvement from the previous view of below subhuman life form.

Next Chapter Unnatural Acts

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