Alaina absentmindedly tucked a fly away strand of hair behind her ears as she pored through the questions she had written to ask Martin Green. Martin Green of the affluent and powerful family of the Green Steel Industry, whose antics in public varied from loud, all out screaming matches of bad break ups to arrogant, at times, boisterous and drunken debauchery of over the top soirees. Alaina isn't a bit nervous to write this article, as a matter of fact, she feels superior towards Green, as she anticipates him being in a state of semi drunken stupor. So what if he is devastatingly handsome, as tabloids have photographed him in many risqué images? So what, if the man is in a very contrasting fantastic build to his drunken, liquor filled lifestyle? She is Alaina Gold, a 4.0 GPA Harvard graduate in Current Affairs and Journalism. If there is any urban legend or story that needs to get debunked, she is the person to do it. She is woman, hear her roar! She thrusts her delicate, but unmanicured forefinger at the yellow lit elevator button to the top floor. As she was waiting for the elevator door to open, the stairway door slams wide open to her right and a man in dark suit, with disheveled and floppy dark hair came stumbling at her feet, almost knocking her legs under her. But Alaina was quick as she hopped over the stumbling heap of a mess called Martin Green, underneath her A line skirt and matching power blazer.
"Jesus Christ, are you alright, Mister?" Alaina, sternly and non-compassionately remarked at the semi inebriated man beneath her. Martin Green looked up at her with red, glossy eyes, and flushed, alcohol tainted pallor, his face glowing redder at the vision of a tall, very self assured, green eyed woman with dark hair pulled neatly in a tight bun, a loose tendril of hair tucked in behind her left ear. Martin held his hand up, motioning for Alaina to take his hand to help him get up. Alaina stepped back, instead, her face contorted in that famous Alicia Silverstone expression of "Eeeeew, AS IF!" in the movie "Clueless". Martin scrambled to his feet on his own after he concluded the woman would rather swallow cyanide rather than touch his alcohol soaked hand. As he managed to stand semi steady, he blurted, "you must be my 10 a.m. You're Alaina Silver, aren't you? Martin Green", as he extended his right hand to her. He was dumbfounded when Alaina waved her long fingers in an action akin to someone scrubbing a pot with a Brillo pad. The woman would not touch him! After the most awkward meeting Martin Greene and Alaina had, Martin decided to invite Alaina to the adjoining hotel of his building to have the interview. First reason was, the hotel has a lounge, the second reason was, the lounge serves alcohol. Alaina accepted without trepidation as she knows she will be able to get a really significant interview of this elusive bachelor who is famous for his flings with supermodels. As he guide her to the lobby's revolving glass doors, Alaina looked him straight in his glossy, liquored up blue green eyes. Martin attempted a smile but it came out as a half grin, half wince as Alaina said, "it's Gold, not Silver, Mr. Green. My last name is Gold". "Ah, of course it is." Martin retorted immediately, his eyes attempting to focus on her image without seeing three Alainas. He was thinking, "shit, that double shot of Stoli's this morning is really giving me a buzz".
Martin wondered how much cardio work he would have to do to detoxify. Even if the tabloids portray him as a drunken playboy, he doesn't care as he knows how sharp, lucid and powerful he is in the boardroom. As they sat at the bar, Alaina immediately whipped out her iPad to start the interview. Martin gently enclosed her hands with his as he said, "you don't need your gizmo to ask me anything, just go with the flow", as he licked his lower lip. Alaina felt tense at his touch. She said to him, "Mr. Green, I am not one to tolerate lip licking from a man, please do not do that." Martin, after hearing this, thought to himself, "Huh, I was not aware I lick my lips". This straight faced, but gorgeous woman makes him feel inept. Uncharacteristically himself, as he knows how many warm vaginas of supermodels welcome him any night or day, for that matter, when he commands it. Martin lowered his gaze at Alaina's hands holding her cards. Then, his eyes moved slowly up at her arms, her shoulders, her slim but long neck to her beautiful face. Alaina raised her eyebrows as his gaze stopped at her gaze. "What are you about, Ms. Gold?" Martin asked. Alaina furrowed her brows questioningly at his question. "I am intrigued by you," Martin continued. "What makes you tick?" he asked. Alaina studied the beautiful playboy in front of her, still holding her hands. She gently pulled her hands from his grasp and cocked her head slightly as she gently, half whispered, "you don't want to know what makes me tick, Mr. Green. You won't be able to handle my kind. And say, I let you in for a peek of my lifestyle, I will require you to sign a confidentiality clause, as my colleagues do not have an idea of who I am, except for the exceptional writer that I am." Martin swallowed visibly and nervously, but his eyes twinkled with anticipation as he asked, "what type of lifestyle is that, and what kind of confidentiality clause? Is that like that stupid Non Disclosure Agreement prevalent on that twit E L James' 50 Shades of Masturbatorial material for lonely mommies?" Alaina's cocky smile turned to a wide grin after hearing what Martin asked. She could barely control snorting as she laughed out loud. She's drawn to him. But alas, no, she will not have him as she knows, even with all the trappings of the super vaginas the supermodels have spoilt him with, her brand of sex is something he may not be prepared for, and his teenage like wonderment is a tell tale sign of heartbreak.
Alaina felt in reverie as she stared at Martin. His wide and hopeful gaze touches her soul in an inexplicable way. She thought to herself, she might just put an exception to her rule of confidentiality. Is she going to take this man as her lover, when they just met about an hour ago? Her mind raced to search for a plausible answer. She mockingly thought, "hey, if that idiot Anastasia Steel and psycho Christian Grey can have a so called passionate, but in reality, lame attraction of epic proportion, why not she and Martin, no?" Alaina giggled to herself. Martin smiled up at her as her giggle wasn't contained to only her. "I entertain you, Ms. Gold?" he asked. Alaina nodded. "That's really good to know", he said. Alaina looked at him with a coy smile on her face. Then she raised her hand to softly caress his cheek. Martin closed his eyes and felt the electric stir from her fingertips. He licked his lip to which Alaina said, "now, now, Mr. Green, I won't have you licking your lips as I find it highly tempting and distracting". Martin opened his eyes nervously, excitedly. He looked up at this woman whose stoic expression leaves him wanting and fearing more. What does he fear? It isn't like he has not banged an intellectual before and clearly, she is an intellectual. There is something about her. It is of cool sophistication, her ability to be cunning and subtle and mysterious with such adept coordination makes him swoon a bit. "If I concede to your confidentiality clause, Ms. Gold, when do I get to see you naked?" he teased. With that, Alaina cupped his face, leaned forward, allowed her lips to almost touch his earlobe, as she breathlessly said "it can be a done deal as soon as you sign off on my rules". Martin flinched as he pulled away abruptly from feeling her hot breath on his ear. He smiled. He can see a devilish twinkle in her eyes. Alaina cocked her head to the side and asked, "nervous, Mr. Green?" Martin shook his head yes. "and intrigued", he added/replied. He immediately flashed back to the hot breath, musty, sweet and spicy that was just on his ear not a moment ago. "God, I wished she would have stuck her tongue in my ear", he thought to himself.
Alaina took his hand, brought it up to her chest and said to him, "Listen how steady my heartbeat is, Mr. Green, because when I turn around to head out of the door, you will listen to yours and you will know who is in control." she turned towards the door, but added, "I don't need the interview as I already know where you live, deep down", and winked at him. Martin watched this dark haired woman with the greenest eyes and the heart shaped lips sashayed towards the door. At that moment, his hand rested on his chest and was surprised at the loud, rapid thumping beats he felt coming from his chest. Martin slowly stepped off the bar stool, shaking his head, surprised he didn't even order a drink. He could have stayed in his building, taken Alaina to his office on the top floor and mixed himself a drink from his bar. He thought, but shivered to himself. Left alone in a sound proof office with her? God, the thought of what she would do to his heart, not to mention his alcohol soaked, shrunken liver, was too much to bear. He shook his head and mind off the thought.Martin reached for his iPhone in his left breast pocket and dialed Kyle, his best buddy from Yale. "Yeah, buddy, how was the interview?" came the vibrant, masculine voice from the phone. "Dude, I so fucked up, I think she thinks I'm a dork", he replied. Kyle laughed. The same laugh Martin is so used to back in college, the kind of laugh college girls were drawn to, for its honesty and self deprecating manner it's delivered, each and every time. How he loathes his friend's laughter. Even when unsure, and just a goddamn painter/artist, Kyle manages to draw women like flies and that annoying well chiseled jawline and shock of blonde hair that shines through his paint splattered artist's coveralls, really gets to Martin. Martin was shaken from his little reverie as Kyle asked, "she a looker, buddy?" Martin nodded as though his pal can see him. Martin muttered, "ah, definitely gorgeous, but standoffish." "Aren't they all?" replied Kyle immediately. The two of them made plans to attend another friend's gallery showing of her new designer couture wear at the 5th Avenue Theatre. Martin footed for the venue as the theatre itself holds an Academy Awards type of shindig. Kyle offered to bring a date for the both of them, but cautioned Martin, they were Huskies cheerleaders and not even remotely close to Gisele Klum, a supermodel Martin has recently dumped. Martin thought of asking his Brazilian ex girlfriend, Adriana Bundchen, but relented to Kyle's offer. A cheerleader, he thought, could be just the quirky distraction he needs to get his mind off Alaina Gold.
"Sure, buddy, why not, could be fun", he chuckled to Kyle. Charlene Baxter leaped upon seeing Martin stepped out of the limousine with Kyle and charged at both men, immediately wrapping her arms around the men's necks. "Oh my fucking god, you two made it!", she shrieked. Kyle gave his friend a wet kiss on the cheek as Martin chuckled, assessing Charlene's evening gown. Her attire was her own creation, and body fitting with a halter topped empire waistline, flowing in an asymmetrical length. The color was lavender receding to almost a pinkish shade. It was modern, daring and made his friend look like a nymph waiting for Pan to snatch her away. Her red and curly hair cascading in a half updo. Blue eyes beaming, she darted an excited look between the two men and asked where their dates were. Kyle didn't say a word, but merely pointed at Martin. "Stag? Well, well, boys, worry not as there are 25 leggy models who will be thrilled you ditched the pompom girls!" Charlene breathlessly blurted. Pompom girls, Martin thought. His friend has a way of over simplifying the very obvious. As she dashed towards different groups of models and photographers, reporters and designers waiting to see her new line of designer couture, she managed to always instinctively glanced at both Martin and Kyle, and winks at the two of them. Some of the models did not even wait for introduction as they flocked Martin and Kyle upon seeing them free of Charlene. Kyle was gregarious, more than happy to oblige the models gathered around them. Martin was polite and wanted to excuse himself to get a drink. He half attempted an excuse to pry arms off him, when in the corner of his eyes, he spotted what looks like the same woman he's encountered while sprawled on his building's cold marble tiles, just earlier in the day. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he hoarsely called out, "Ms. Gold!", and immediately caught Kyle's attention. Both men excused themselves from the throng of overly made up models and started walking towards where Alaina stood, by the main entrance. She is a vision, both Kyle and Martin thought. Dressed in a simple, body hugging, little black dress, Alaina's phenomenal physique was made to wear such a dress. Her hair, which she left down and wore with bouncy and shiny waves reminded Martin of a siren, bewitching him to crash his ship against rough, sharp, rocky shores.
"Jesus Christ, are you alright, Mister?" Alaina, sternly and non-compassionately remarked at the semi inebriated man beneath her. Martin Green looked up at her with red, glossy eyes, and flushed, alcohol tainted pallor, his face glowing redder at the vision of a tall, very self assured, green eyed woman with dark hair pulled neatly in a tight bun, a loose tendril of hair tucked in behind her left ear. Martin held his hand up, motioning for Alaina to take his hand to help him get up. Alaina stepped back, instead, her face contorted in that famous Alicia Silverstone expression of "Eeeeew, AS IF!" in the movie "Clueless". Martin scrambled to his feet on his own after he concluded the woman would rather swallow cyanide rather than touch his alcohol soaked hand. As he managed to stand semi steady, he blurted, "you must be my 10 a.m. You're Alaina Silver, aren't you? Martin Green", as he extended his right hand to her. He was dumbfounded when Alaina waved her long fingers in an action akin to someone scrubbing a pot with a Brillo pad. The woman would not touch him! After the most awkward meeting Martin Greene and Alaina had, Martin decided to invite Alaina to the adjoining hotel of his building to have the interview. First reason was, the hotel has a lounge, the second reason was, the lounge serves alcohol. Alaina accepted without trepidation as she knows she will be able to get a really significant interview of this elusive bachelor who is famous for his flings with supermodels. As he guide her to the lobby's revolving glass doors, Alaina looked him straight in his glossy, liquored up blue green eyes. Martin attempted a smile but it came out as a half grin, half wince as Alaina said, "it's Gold, not Silver, Mr. Green. My last name is Gold". "Ah, of course it is." Martin retorted immediately, his eyes attempting to focus on her image without seeing three Alainas. He was thinking, "shit, that double shot of Stoli's this morning is really giving me a buzz".
Martin wondered how much cardio work he would have to do to detoxify. Even if the tabloids portray him as a drunken playboy, he doesn't care as he knows how sharp, lucid and powerful he is in the boardroom. As they sat at the bar, Alaina immediately whipped out her iPad to start the interview. Martin gently enclosed her hands with his as he said, "you don't need your gizmo to ask me anything, just go with the flow", as he licked his lower lip. Alaina felt tense at his touch. She said to him, "Mr. Green, I am not one to tolerate lip licking from a man, please do not do that." Martin, after hearing this, thought to himself, "Huh, I was not aware I lick my lips". This straight faced, but gorgeous woman makes him feel inept. Uncharacteristically himself, as he knows how many warm vaginas of supermodels welcome him any night or day, for that matter, when he commands it. Martin lowered his gaze at Alaina's hands holding her cards. Then, his eyes moved slowly up at her arms, her shoulders, her slim but long neck to her beautiful face. Alaina raised her eyebrows as his gaze stopped at her gaze. "What are you about, Ms. Gold?" Martin asked. Alaina furrowed her brows questioningly at his question. "I am intrigued by you," Martin continued. "What makes you tick?" he asked. Alaina studied the beautiful playboy in front of her, still holding her hands. She gently pulled her hands from his grasp and cocked her head slightly as she gently, half whispered, "you don't want to know what makes me tick, Mr. Green. You won't be able to handle my kind. And say, I let you in for a peek of my lifestyle, I will require you to sign a confidentiality clause, as my colleagues do not have an idea of who I am, except for the exceptional writer that I am." Martin swallowed visibly and nervously, but his eyes twinkled with anticipation as he asked, "what type of lifestyle is that, and what kind of confidentiality clause? Is that like that stupid Non Disclosure Agreement prevalent on that twit E L James' 50 Shades of Masturbatorial material for lonely mommies?" Alaina's cocky smile turned to a wide grin after hearing what Martin asked. She could barely control snorting as she laughed out loud. She's drawn to him. But alas, no, she will not have him as she knows, even with all the trappings of the super vaginas the supermodels have spoilt him with, her brand of sex is something he may not be prepared for, and his teenage like wonderment is a tell tale sign of heartbreak.
Alaina felt in reverie as she stared at Martin. His wide and hopeful gaze touches her soul in an inexplicable way. She thought to herself, she might just put an exception to her rule of confidentiality. Is she going to take this man as her lover, when they just met about an hour ago? Her mind raced to search for a plausible answer. She mockingly thought, "hey, if that idiot Anastasia Steel and psycho Christian Grey can have a so called passionate, but in reality, lame attraction of epic proportion, why not she and Martin, no?" Alaina giggled to herself. Martin smiled up at her as her giggle wasn't contained to only her. "I entertain you, Ms. Gold?" he asked. Alaina nodded. "That's really good to know", he said. Alaina looked at him with a coy smile on her face. Then she raised her hand to softly caress his cheek. Martin closed his eyes and felt the electric stir from her fingertips. He licked his lip to which Alaina said, "now, now, Mr. Green, I won't have you licking your lips as I find it highly tempting and distracting". Martin opened his eyes nervously, excitedly. He looked up at this woman whose stoic expression leaves him wanting and fearing more. What does he fear? It isn't like he has not banged an intellectual before and clearly, she is an intellectual. There is something about her. It is of cool sophistication, her ability to be cunning and subtle and mysterious with such adept coordination makes him swoon a bit. "If I concede to your confidentiality clause, Ms. Gold, when do I get to see you naked?" he teased. With that, Alaina cupped his face, leaned forward, allowed her lips to almost touch his earlobe, as she breathlessly said "it can be a done deal as soon as you sign off on my rules". Martin flinched as he pulled away abruptly from feeling her hot breath on his ear. He smiled. He can see a devilish twinkle in her eyes. Alaina cocked her head to the side and asked, "nervous, Mr. Green?" Martin shook his head yes. "and intrigued", he added/replied. He immediately flashed back to the hot breath, musty, sweet and spicy that was just on his ear not a moment ago. "God, I wished she would have stuck her tongue in my ear", he thought to himself.
Alaina took his hand, brought it up to her chest and said to him, "Listen how steady my heartbeat is, Mr. Green, because when I turn around to head out of the door, you will listen to yours and you will know who is in control." she turned towards the door, but added, "I don't need the interview as I already know where you live, deep down", and winked at him. Martin watched this dark haired woman with the greenest eyes and the heart shaped lips sashayed towards the door. At that moment, his hand rested on his chest and was surprised at the loud, rapid thumping beats he felt coming from his chest. Martin slowly stepped off the bar stool, shaking his head, surprised he didn't even order a drink. He could have stayed in his building, taken Alaina to his office on the top floor and mixed himself a drink from his bar. He thought, but shivered to himself. Left alone in a sound proof office with her? God, the thought of what she would do to his heart, not to mention his alcohol soaked, shrunken liver, was too much to bear. He shook his head and mind off the thought.Martin reached for his iPhone in his left breast pocket and dialed Kyle, his best buddy from Yale. "Yeah, buddy, how was the interview?" came the vibrant, masculine voice from the phone. "Dude, I so fucked up, I think she thinks I'm a dork", he replied. Kyle laughed. The same laugh Martin is so used to back in college, the kind of laugh college girls were drawn to, for its honesty and self deprecating manner it's delivered, each and every time. How he loathes his friend's laughter. Even when unsure, and just a goddamn painter/artist, Kyle manages to draw women like flies and that annoying well chiseled jawline and shock of blonde hair that shines through his paint splattered artist's coveralls, really gets to Martin. Martin was shaken from his little reverie as Kyle asked, "she a looker, buddy?" Martin nodded as though his pal can see him. Martin muttered, "ah, definitely gorgeous, but standoffish." "Aren't they all?" replied Kyle immediately. The two of them made plans to attend another friend's gallery showing of her new designer couture wear at the 5th Avenue Theatre. Martin footed for the venue as the theatre itself holds an Academy Awards type of shindig. Kyle offered to bring a date for the both of them, but cautioned Martin, they were Huskies cheerleaders and not even remotely close to Gisele Klum, a supermodel Martin has recently dumped. Martin thought of asking his Brazilian ex girlfriend, Adriana Bundchen, but relented to Kyle's offer. A cheerleader, he thought, could be just the quirky distraction he needs to get his mind off Alaina Gold.
"Sure, buddy, why not, could be fun", he chuckled to Kyle. Charlene Baxter leaped upon seeing Martin stepped out of the limousine with Kyle and charged at both men, immediately wrapping her arms around the men's necks. "Oh my fucking god, you two made it!", she shrieked. Kyle gave his friend a wet kiss on the cheek as Martin chuckled, assessing Charlene's evening gown. Her attire was her own creation, and body fitting with a halter topped empire waistline, flowing in an asymmetrical length. The color was lavender receding to almost a pinkish shade. It was modern, daring and made his friend look like a nymph waiting for Pan to snatch her away. Her red and curly hair cascading in a half updo. Blue eyes beaming, she darted an excited look between the two men and asked where their dates were. Kyle didn't say a word, but merely pointed at Martin. "Stag? Well, well, boys, worry not as there are 25 leggy models who will be thrilled you ditched the pompom girls!" Charlene breathlessly blurted. Pompom girls, Martin thought. His friend has a way of over simplifying the very obvious. As she dashed towards different groups of models and photographers, reporters and designers waiting to see her new line of designer couture, she managed to always instinctively glanced at both Martin and Kyle, and winks at the two of them. Some of the models did not even wait for introduction as they flocked Martin and Kyle upon seeing them free of Charlene. Kyle was gregarious, more than happy to oblige the models gathered around them. Martin was polite and wanted to excuse himself to get a drink. He half attempted an excuse to pry arms off him, when in the corner of his eyes, he spotted what looks like the same woman he's encountered while sprawled on his building's cold marble tiles, just earlier in the day. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he hoarsely called out, "Ms. Gold!", and immediately caught Kyle's attention. Both men excused themselves from the throng of overly made up models and started walking towards where Alaina stood, by the main entrance. She is a vision, both Kyle and Martin thought. Dressed in a simple, body hugging, little black dress, Alaina's phenomenal physique was made to wear such a dress. Her hair, which she left down and wore with bouncy and shiny waves reminded Martin of a siren, bewitching him to crash his ship against rough, sharp, rocky shores.