Money and Lust

Leigh Nicole Tesman was taking her usual afternoon bath with the same chardonnay. The bathroom was immaculate; the size alone would bring envy to the heart of every socialite in the nearby radius. Young enough to not have earned her money, but old enough to sleep her way into some. Her red hair was like fire on an August day. She had a well-toned body that she kept up in the gym under her room, bought by her father. This was the life she was accustomed to; this was the life she loved.

Her breasts were smaller than most, but she made up for it in her waist. There are some girls that natural beauty just takes hold of them. This girl, Leigh, had natural beauty. Cherokee tradition running through her blood, she seemed like an ancient princess that you shouldn't dare to touch.

Her father protested the first time she dyed her hair. He loved so much that dark brown that was her roots' colors. She defied him and wanted that beautiful red that she so desperately craved.

There is little you can do when a fifteen-year-old girl wants something. Especially if you are her father, his money was made in oil, trading stocks and bonds were just pastime. I know it seems cliché, but his father owned a casino on a reservation in Oklahoma; he did not want that life. So the set sights on the city that promised so much. He turned his attention and some of his father's money to stocks. She seemed to have no ambition of a career or a life outside of money, not so well earned. Her friends would call her a socialite; her parents thought the same. The chocolate that she had sitting to the right of the tub had just arrived from Paris no more than two days ago.

Expensive tastes are hard to break but not to pick up. When she was young, her father was just new to the business of trading. They lived in a one-bedroom apartment above a Chinese restaurant, where her father worked at night. That little girl was sweet and innocent, smart, and brave. She wanted to be a doctor, but for people, she would always say. She loved animals. But a few years later, after hitting it big with a penny stock, they moved from Queens to the East Side, and it all ended. She became what now sat in the bathtub, snobby.

She stood, and the water cascaded down her supple, dark body. The waterfall of her essence was falling into one tub. Many people knew to stay away from her. Like a spider she would catch her prey. The towel was used very little on her torso or her waist. She wrapped it around her head to dry her hair. Walking into the bedroom, which was much bigger than her father's, completely naked, she was getting ready for a party. One that was to be hosted by the most quintessential lawyer in the whole town. His son was a little younger, just eighteen, but ripe for the picking. Tonight, she was to find her benefactor in life. Her routine consisted of watching old romantic movies on her bed with no clothes on. She would then look at the clock on her phone and decide that she was ready to put clothes on, usually about an hour before she had to leave.

There was an older butler that was around the house cleaning the rooms. Unless Leigh requested him to clean her room, he never entered. Today she had on an old Audrey Hepburn movie. She loved her, no one else. Every other actress compared to her, seemed little.

The phone had read a little past three o'clock. The party wasn't until six that evening. She still had time to finish the movie and read a good book. She loved romance novels, the kinds where the big burly man saves the damsel. Or the kind you would find at a five and dime, the paperbacks.

The big fluffy blanket was always a comfort for her, really the only thing in the room that she still owned that was from the apartment days. She didn't know why she couldn't get rid of it, but she never had. It was pink and had ruffles at the top and the bottom. Her father brought it home after being gone all day. "This blanket will keep you safe. It will guide you through your dreams. Through your nightmares and back to me." he said as he kissed her forehead and made his way out of her room. It tied her to him. And that is an exceedingly rare feat these days. They barely share conversations at the dinner table.

Sometimes they will attend the same party together, or he will take her on a shopping spree, but that is it. Daddy's girl lost interest in conversation with the self-made man. The dress she picked for this party was lying, draped on the back of her vanity chair. It was a white sundress with creases at the bottom and spaghetti straps that held it all together. She picked that specific dress to go along with her complexion. Imagine her body, her skin, and that white dress. She looked over at it as she took a sip of the chardonnay.

Her father permitted her to drink even though she underage, twenty years old to be exact. It was a taste now; she started drinking when she was seventeen. She hadn't really let up since. Champagne here and there. A mimosa at breakfast, some wine at night. Not a problem, at least not at this part of her life. She wondered if there were more adventures that she was not pursuing because of her pursuits. It's hard to know for sure if you are ever doing the right thing. As young as a newborn, she sat on her bed and contemplated the meaning of death. More importantly, she contemplated dying alone.

The lighting in her room was abundant, a window overlooking the park down below. It was a masterpiece, the view alone. The days were numerous as they passed, but she found herself watching the people down below, living their lives. Keeping a journal in today's age is considered strange, but she did. She wrote down everything she saw in that park. She jotted them down the birds as they pecked at the ground in excorticating detail.

Men would pass by, holding hands of some lovely lady, and she would find herself drifting off to a fantasy where she was the girl. She was down there, in the park, holding the man's hand. On this particular afternoon, the park was void of life. Most leaves laid dead on the ground. Funny how death gives us a pretty picture. The red and brown danced upon each other and complimented the way the sky was turning caramel. She melted in the window as she watched the sky turn from dusk tonight.

She looked up from her journal and over at the clock. Still about thirty minutes until she had to get ready definitely. Had she ever seen the lawyer's son? She shook off the thought because that didn't matter to her. Looks were only skin deep; this would be a genuinely nice thought. However, the money ran deeper for her.

Her body was now dry, and the towel on the top of her head was an afterthought. She threw it into the abyss of the room. Now with the towel gone, completely naked, she made her way to the vanity to throw on the white sundress.

Leigh never knew when her father came and went. So when he entered the room after she was dressed, it threw her off her game. "You look beautiful." He said as he leaned against the door.

"Daddy, you are home." She said, quite surprised. Yes, she never knew when he came or went, but she knew well enough that it was early for him to be here.

"I remembered we have that party with the lawyer." Her dad, now in his older age, fifty to be exact, had silver hair that draped down his forehead. A nice goatee that accented his skin tone and his face altogether. The man stood there as quiet as a dream, graceful as a shadow. He was the shining example of what she should try to find in a man; however, his money was what she was seeking.

"Give me another ten minutes to do my makeup, and I will be ready." she pushed for more time even though she didn't need it. Something in her mind did not want to go as if a shadow was cast over the event. She shook it off.

"Okay." he nodded and closed the door behind him.

Time in a relationship slips away quicker and quicker with each passing moment. Here, Leigh and her father's love had been constant, but time was making its way past them. She was now at an age where a man, at any moment, could take her away from him.

The fire burned bright on the match as he raised it to the stogie. Nothing special, a local brand from Connecticut, but with the hint of an exotic leaf. His lungs took in the smoke as if they were meant to meet each other. The relaxation in his demeanor became a fixture when he lit the fat cigar. This was his time of peace in the world. He missed times where he would come home, and he and she would have long, dedicated conversations; back then he didn't need cigars. The smell of Chinese food below them and the girl with the pink blanket was enough, at least for him. He closed his eyes and leaned back as he let himself feel serenity.

Leigh was sitting at her vanity, staring at the person she was. Hatred for oneself is never a good thing, so Leigh saw who she was a tear formed. She picked up the brush and threw it, shattering the mirror. The mirror's cracks provided some relief for her as now she couldn't see her own beauty.

The glass breaking woke her father up and he scattered to her bedroom door. "Are you okay?"

She turned fast in her chair, embarrassed by what just happened. "Yes. I was just a bit clumsy," she said as she stumbled over her words. Silence for a quick moment as he inspected the door.

"Are you almost ready?" he asked.

She looked back at the cracked mirror and closed her eyes hoping to stop the tears. "Huh-uh." she got out.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you. I arranged sort of a date for you this evening." he said wondering why he would do such a thing because the quicker she met someone the quicker she would be gone from him.

She couldn't help but be a tad bit upset but relieved in the same emotion. The lawyer's son was an adequate target for her... Money and prestige were in his blood, she would be safe with him. "Who?"

"A banker's son..." he said. "What was his name?" she sat there in front of her cracked mirror on the edge of her chair as he searched his mind for the name. "Ah, yes. Jake Bloom."

She had heard that name before. He was all over the gossip pages and his name spread like wildfire around the socialite crowds. "A prized horse." she thought to herself as she grinned. "Okay daddy," she said calmly on the surface.

Implications and coincidence are very prominent in the upper echelon society. Parents would set up their children with hopes of breeding and furthering an empire, much like that of royal families long ago. This, this instance of coincidence would be how the socialite would meet the son of a banker.