The Opportunity

The (necessary) warnings:

– This is a work of FICTION. Any names, events, characters, etc are the products of my imagination. Any resemblances to real persons or actual events is purely coincidental.

– I’m not a native English speaker (although I believe I have a good grasp of the language), so please forgive me for any (small, I hope) mistakes.

And now, THE STORY:

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The first time I’ve seen Clarissa was in a photo on the social network of Olivia, an acquaintance of mine… Clarissa was standing, slightly bent over, beside my acquaintance and two or three other beautiful women, smiling. Technically speaking, she was the least beautiful in the photo, the least close to the standards of beauty that society tends to rely on to classify who is more attractive or less attractive. In short, she was the one who, among her friends, would be the “most common”.

The question is that these patterns cannot translate the abstract, the non-mathematical, that which escapes theoretical explanations. Desire goes beyond patterns or standards… That dark skin, the hair just above the shoulders, smoothed and painted in a copper-like color, the slender body that is usually not my preference but that, in her, fit perfectly, the provocative clothes, the pose full of sensuality, the mouth highlighted and thickened by red lipstick, screaming “I want to suck your dick”, all this made me, as soon as I saw her, think: I have to fuck her!

Of course, this thought was not a plan, a concrete goal, a factual idea. As I said, she was in the photo of an acquaintance, and I was not even close to this acquaintance – those many that we have on our social networks and with whom we barely have any intimacy. Besides, I had no illusions that Clarissa, looking about thirty years-old, would fall into my arms the moment she met me. I’m in my early fifties, and although fit, somewhat rich and relatively handsome I’m not a movie star. No, what was formed at that moment was not a plan; it was a desire, an urgency, a want.

But, like so many other desires we have, it was just that at first.

***

From that day on I checked her pictures periodically through her own social network presence. This was possible because, as I found out the first time I did this, she was a model and used the network to, through her photos, show her work. It is worth reinforcing here (again), so we can avoid the false impression people usually have about models, that she was not a perfect goddess. Like most models, she had a certain beauty, she was actually quite photogenic but, as I said before, she was a relatively ordinary woman. Yes, her photos tended to be very sexy with lots of garter belts, short dresses, breasts almost always partially exposed, and that blood-red mouth always half-open, ready to swallow a man, but what caught my attention, as I said, is something that cannot be expressed rationally.

In any case, things stayed that way for a long time, with her existing only in my libidinous thoughts. Actually, having her was never a real possibility for me.

But life has its ways…

***

Almost a year after I had seen Clarissa’s picture for the first time, a dear friend invited me to her birthday party. It would be in a nightclub and, I must confess, they are not my favorite place to be, as the noise and the crowds no longer attract me, but I had to go so she would not be disappointed. So I went, hoping to at least find a quieter place where I could sit and talk to other people instead of sweating on a crowded dance floor.

I arrived relatively early, thinking of leaving early as well, and sat at a table farther away from the hubbub, where some acquaintances were already seated. Soon, absorbed in a good conversation, I abandoned the idea of going back home early and relaxed, not even noticing the time pass, and it was around two in the morning when I felt a hand on my shoulder:

“Hi, Richard!”

By her voice, I could say it was Olivia, the acquaintance in whose social network I’ve seen Clarissa for the first time, and I rose from my seat to greet her without even looking around. She was as beautiful as ever, with her curly blond hair, her blue eyes and well-applied make up making her twenty-seven years of age even more appealing. She was always someone I thought of dating, but she never gave me any reason to believe that there was a chance.

“How are you, Olivia?”

“I’m ok! I’m late, right?”

“Oh, there’s still plenty of time to enjoy the night!”

Turning to her side, she said:

“Let me introduce you: this is Clarissa, a friend that I invited.”

I confess that I did not immediately connect the name to the person and, turning my face without thinking much of it, I reached out to greet Olivia’s friend. A fraction of a second later, however, I saw that red lipstick, that copper-colored hair, that dark skin, and stuttered:

“Eh… It’s… Nice to meet you. I’m Richard!”

“Clarissa.”

She held out her hand, and as soon as I touched her skin I knew there was no way out: I had to fuck her in every way possible, I had to have her pussy, her mouth and her ass! The problem is that, while I realized that, she barely greeted me and followed Olivia to greet other people, not even paying attention to me.

Once the two of them walked away and I sat down again, I tried to compose myself while participating, in monosyllables, in the table conversation. Whenever possible, I watched Clarissa from the corner of my eye, and the more I watched her the more I was convinced that she was exactly what I had seen in the photos: an apparently ordinary woman, but with a sensuality that made her something very out of that ordinary. At the same time, because of her posture and also because she had caught me, over and over again, looking at her and completely ignored me, I really hadn’t any hope of a successful approach and, even with as horny I was and the drinks I already had by then, it hadn’t crossed my mind – at least not as a real idea – to approach her or to try anything. After all, in addition to being among my friends, she had come with Olivia, whom she would surely tell if I tried something.

***

Another forty minutes went by without anything different happening and, tired of that situation, I was already thinking about going home. I decided to go to the outside the club, a kind of balcony, to call a taxi, and was already starting to open the app when I saw, in a corner of the balcony, Olivia and Clarissa talking. Entranced, I put away my phone and cautiously approached the two, taking advantage of the crowded balcony to avoid been seen. As soon as I was close enough, I turned my back to then and started to listen to the conversation:

“And that’s it, friend… I’m fucked.”

Clarissa was tearful and clearly sad when she said that.

“But Clarissa, you’re still very young, only thirty years-old! There’s still time!”

“Yeah, Liv, but in this profession it’s complicated. Either you get at least a bit famous when you’re still young, or things get harder and harder each day. Nobody hires you anymore, and that only tends to get worse as time goes on. And it’s not like I can wait much longer… I’m behind with my rent, I have lots of bills to pay…”

“I never imagined that one day I would hear you say that you were thinking of changing professions. You like being a model so much!”

“I myself didn’t think I was going to say that one day. But, Liv, I can’t even go out anymore. If you hadn’t insisted and decided to pay for me that I would spend here, I would have been home because I had no money. And another month behind on the rent and not even at home I will be able to stay, as I’m going to be evicted. So, what can I do?”

Clarissa’s voice was breaking, and she continued:

“I’m just going to give myself one more semester. If nothing more promising comes along, if there isn’t a job that can give me the opportunity to show up at least a little more, I won’t have a choice. 35, 40 years old, with no modeling work and no experience in anything else, and living on the street…”

“And what do you plan on doing, if that’s the case?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have many options at this age and with no experience in anything, do I? I think I’ll have to be a retail salesperson, something like that. Dude, honestly, it gives me even depression to think about it… I’ve always wanted to be a model, and it’s never been for the supposed glamor that, I’ve always known, is bullshit. It’s because I really like it!”

“I know, Clarissa.”

The two hugged and I could still hear Clarissa say to Olivia, in a tearful voice, before they went back inside the club:

“Honestly… In these years of modelling, I got several dubious proposals and I never even blinked at saying no… Like ‘I’ll get you this work full of exposure here if you go out with me’, things like that. Sometimes they were even cute guys and such, but no, I never thought about it! And, apart of that, there are the older guys that show up from time to time wanting to be my ‘sponsor’, sometimes very rich ones, and I never even considered it a possibility. But as desperate as I’m now, I don’t know if I did the right thing…”

“Don’t be silly, Clarissa! You’re so independent, so empowered, and thinking about being with someone for money?”

Olivia’s tone was affectionate, but Clarissa felt the need to explain:

“Don’t get it wrong, Liv… I’m not talking about… Gee, not being a prostitute. But… But I’ve already had a few opportunities to be in a famous magazine or to do a well-known brand campaign if… Well, if I would sleep with the guy who had the power to decide. It could be just that once and that was it, the career could take off…”

“Stop it, Clarissa! Come on, let’s get back inside!”

And the two walked away.

It was as if a light came on inside me: now I had a way to turn my desire into action.

***

As I said, I am quite successful. I’m not filthy rich, but I have considerable wealth and a very good position in a huge company, and therefore live a very comfortable life. Along with the money, of course, I end up going to circles where other successful people, from different fields, tend to go: from civil construction to the financial market, from the entertainment industry to… fashion. And among these people, I ended up making a great friendship with Carl, the marketing head of an important fashion company and who, if I could convince to help me, could be the solution to my equation.

I felt like a teenager and, ignoring the time, picked up the phone and called him right there.

“Hello…”

The sleepy voice immediately reminded me that it was nearly three in the morning.

“Fuck, Carl. I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize what time it was!”

“Richard? What was it man, has something happened?”

“No, no, everything is fine.”

“Fuck, if everything’s fine why did you wake me up at this hour, man?”

I had to laugh at the way he said this, between indignant and relieved, and then I replied:

“I told you, I didn’t even realize what time it was. But since you’ve already woken up…”

Already used to my follies, Carl fell silent and listened to the story I told him: that I had a model “friend” who was excellent but hadn’t had any luck until then, and that as I knew they were doing campaigns for famous magazines all the time, I wanted to know if there was a way for him to give her a chance. I omitted, of course, much of the context, but he knew me well enough to infer the rest:

“Do you want to fuck her or are you already doing it?”

“Oh, come on, man! Can’t I just want to help a friend?”

“You can, of course you can. But calling me in the middle of the night, out of the blue, there’s definitely something behind it.”

I laughed again, and replied:

“Dude… I know this is not a big deal for you!”

“Richard, you know that for you I’ll find a way. After all, how many times have you done the same for me? But I first need to see some of her works, to assess if she really has the skill required to do an essay for us. Otherwise, I could be in hot water.”

“No question about it! But I’m sure you’ll like it! I’ll send you a link with her pictures right now, wait…”

I sent Clarissa’s social network link to him, who was silent for a few minutes until he told me:

“Yeah, now I know why you want to work on her…”

I laughed hard with the double meaning of his comment, and he laughed back before continuing:

“Richard, from these pictures she looks like she can do the job, but I can’t promise you anything yet. I’ll need to audition her first. But if she’s all you’re saying, OK, it’s done. But on one condition: that you get me that ticket to the match you promised me!”

“It’s already done! And I’m sure she will pass the test.”

“Well then, we have a deal. I even already know the perfect job for her… Do you want me to give you the details or do I talk directly to her about it?”

“No, no, pass them to me. I’ll talk to her first and then we’ll arrange for her to do the test and sign any papers you need her to sign.”

“But it’s not guaranteed yet, remember that!”

“Easy, Carl!”

“Okay then, write it down…”

***

I know I should have waited for the test, but how could I do that? For her to take the test I would have to talk to her, and for that I would have to have a reason since, contrary to what Carl thought, she barely knew me. So, I decided to throw prudence out the window and, pushed by the horniness and the drinks I had had, I decided that I was going to find a way to approach her that very night.

I went back inside the club and looked for her, finding her on the dance floor with Olivia. The way she danced, the way she moved that slim but also fleshy ass, only made me even more sure of what I was doing, and I watched from afar, waiting for the best moment to try my luck.

The perfect opportunity came nearly half an hour later, when she walked, sweaty and tired, from the dance floor to the outdoor area to cool off. I waited for her to leave and a minute later, having made sure Olivia wouldn’t join her, I left too.

The outside area was much emptier and Clarissa, luckily, was at one end of the large porch, which only made my job of being discreet easier. I walked up behind her, who was looking down the street, and said:

“Clarissa?”

She turned around and her expression upon seeing me clearly showed that she was expecting a pickup line, a pickup line that she was already ready to reject, but what I said afterwards made her clearly uncomfortable:

“Sorry to intrude, but earlier… I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Olivia out here. I was close to you too taking some air and I didn’t mean to, but…”

Her expression changed again, this time to an aggressive one, and she replied:

“And why would it be your business?”

Her posture, so wild and full of herself, only made me want more and more to see her on all fours in front of me and, without a blink, I said:

“Maybe I can help…”

She replied, now with an air of questioning and distrust:

“How?”

“Look… I have a good friend who is willing to help. I called him earlier, after hearing you two talking, and I have a proposal for you.”

Clarissa looked at the floor and her body language made it clear that she understood exactly what was going on. Her irritation was visible, her desire to send me go fuck myself also, but she herself had said earlier that she regretted the times she rejected proposals like the one I was covertly making. I could almost witness the inner battle she was going through, the struggle between all the things she believed in and the need to find a way out of the problems she was facing. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation and still with a defiant expression, she replied, with a sarcastic air:

“And I imagine this proposal involves something in return for my part?”

I realized, at that moment, that I had already won the game. If not, she would have already slapped me across the face or at least walked out of there to tell Olivia what I had offered her.

“Let’s do this… This is not the time or place for us to have this conversation. Tomorrow I’ll take you to dinner and we’ll talk, without any commitments. What do you say?”

She thought a little longer, glaring at me, and replied:

“Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Clarissa, what I’m doing is to offer you an opportunity. You can just say no and walk away, and nothing will change in your life. I’m not threatening to make your life harder, I’m offering to make it easier. It’s your choice.”

My reply seemed to make her even angrier, but I continued:

“You said yourself earlier that, if you could, you would do things differently than you did in the past, didn’t you? I’m just asking you to listen to what I have to propose, nothing more. At worst, you get a free dinner at one of the best restaurants in town. But let’s do this: I’ll give you my card and wait for your response until 4 pm tomorrow. If you’re up for it, I’ll pick you up at 8 pm at the address you give me. And don’t worry, tomorrow we’ll just have dinner and talk. If you prefer, you can go by yourself, I’ll send you the address of the restaurant, but my driver can pick you up and get you there. There’s nothing to worry about.”

I handed her the card and, while she was still reading it, clearly impressed with who I was and the company I worked for, I completed with a disinterested air:

“See you tomorrow.”

And turned away, certain that everything would go as planned.

***

I woke up very late the next day, and as soon as I opened my eyes and what had happened the day before came back to mind, anxiety set in. On the one hand, I feared that she would tell Olivia what had happened and that I was going to hear a sermon; on the other hand, I was convinced that she would at least accept listening to my proposal and that, by listening to it, she would have no way of saying no.

Anyway, I was already losing hope when, five minutes before 4 pm, her message arrived:

“OK. We can talk. Pick me up in front of the store below:”

And she completed with the address where I should send my driver to, possibly because she chose not to give me the address where she lived.

***

I immediately called the owner of one of the best restaurants in town, who happens to be my friend, and got a table for that same night, which would have been impossible using the restaurant’s “official channels”. I dressed myself with care but, at the same time, casually, and at 8 pm I was at the table waiting for Clarissa who, brought by my driver, arrived twenty minutes later, in a low-cut orange dress and wearing the red lipstick that made me have so many wet dreams. It was both chic and sexy, a good sign that she would hardly reject my offer.

I got up to meet her and, after she was seated, I asked the waiter to pour the champagne I had already ordered. As soon as he walked away, she said:

“Well then, I’m here. What do you want?”

Her passive-aggressive posture just turned me on.

“What’s the rush for? Let’s order entry at least.”

She looked at me for a few seconds and, without saying anything, took the menu.

***

We ate the appetizer and then started dinner without saying anything. She was silent and I, in turn, also made no effort to break the silence, what made her more and more impatient, as she clearly wanted me to push, to beg her to listen to me, but I knew that part of my success lay in not doing that. My strategy came to fruition and, as soon as we started eating, she finally said:

“Richard, now I think it’s enough, OK?? I came here to hear what you have to propose, nothing else.”

Without saying anything, I took a paper out of my pocket with the summary of the proposal that I had earlier asked Carl to send me in print, with the company’s logo, the job description and all the numbers on it. She took the paper and placed it on the table beside the plate to read, and it was easy to see how her expression changed quickly, how her posture, until then rigid and bellicose, became one of surprise and anxiety.