Fashion Week...Blue Eyes Meet Green and Turn a Socialite Purple with Rage!

Hello Holiday doers! Why not take a short break and read part 2 of "A Tale from Eve's Garden"?

Please visit my site for information about me and my books.
http://nandarnold.com/books.html

A Tale from Eve’s Garden
By Nan D. Arnold
Part 2

Fashion Week, NYC…

Ah, the glitz and frenzy of Fashion Week. Along with the changing leaves on the trees, came design changes for the well-dressed worldly wise woman.

In September of 2010, New York Fashion Week relocated to Lincoln Center, known by most as the home to the Metropolitan Opera house and American Ballet Theatre. Sue and other fashionistas were dazzled by the red carpet treatment and transformation of the events when they moved from tent to temple.

Sue and her tricked out pals were treated to front row seats for late breaking fashion news, rumors and gossip. And a jaundiced eyeful of rockin’ fashion, special events and major fashion shows.

Sue was sucked further into the fury by chum, Art McCoy. They had grown up together in the back country of Greenwich, CT. They knew each other well, probably two well.

“Heartless Art” she called her bisexual pal, dreadfully deceitful when called upon and dreadfully handsome. Good at opening more of those all important social doors, too.

Back in darkened rooms a litter of ill-gotten prescription drugs alluded to another less glamorous side. Art was a functioning addict with serious health problems. Fortunately, he, too, had money and resources to manage his Hotel California-style afflictions. Who cared. It was Fashion Week!

“So much drama and farce,” Sue lamented as Art flitted about at Mulberry’s after party. Sue’s silent table mate, a half empty crystal flute of Dom Perignon, was disappointing. Vintage 1921 you’re not. Unlike the two bottles recently auctioned at Christie’s for over $8,000. But you’ll do for now.

And then, everything changed when he walked in.

He was the type to turn heads, jaded and otherwise, including Sue’s. “OMG. My head is playing Broadway tunes,” Sue giggled. “I’m singing them, too.”

Socialite Marley Plaster, standing nearby, shot Sue a glare of disapproval and quickly looked away, in the direction of Mr. Head Turner.

Sue considered firing back with an unlady like gesture, but thought better of it. Enough! Time to leave. She’d never catch his eye, probably gay as Art besides. Sue stood up, way too fast.

Wavering on her Jimmy Choo’s, she began to fall forward when a strong grip on her arm pulled her back from the brink of severe humiliation. “Hello, I’m Jake Will,” he smiled, still gripping her arm. “It’s my experience stilettos and robust consumption of champagne don’t mix. You okay?”

“Of course, “Sue snapped, a defensive act to protect herself from anticipated rejection.

“Good” Jake stared directly into her eyes, but didn’t loosen his grip. “Green as gimlet.”

His words teased her earlobes. Her lips parted to invite a more intimate introduction but instead, she snickered. “Contacts.” Meanwhile, his baby blues gripped her tighter than his fingers, his warm, strong fingers.

Carelessly, she reached around his neck and ran her fingers through his dark sand color hair. His features were a symphony, his skin flawless and tan. The personification of summertime fun like sex on a sandy beach.

“You need fresh air.” Jake broke her reverie, nudging her toward a side door, and then outside onto the busy street.

Hmmmm. Another sensation sliced through her inebriation as the two tangoed forward, all the while maintaining a copulatory gaze fest. Several sensations, all welcome as old friends reunited after a long journey…

Marley Winthrop watched in disbelief as Sue and Jake danced out

Outside, night air temporarily worked its magic and Sue hesitated. “Wait. I don’t know you.”

“Excellent!” A familiar voice rang out from behind. Art burst out of the building with two male models. “I see you two have met.” Art scolded Sue, “Your purse, darling. Never leave Prada behind.”

“Thanks,” Sue said.

“No bother. I’ve been trying to get you two together for months. Frankly, I wanted Jake for myself, but,” he made a dramatic shoulder shrug and winked at his companions, “life doesn’t always work that way. Later.” The three men walked away on their own journey.


Watch for Part 3 in January of 2010. Happy Holidays!

Sue spirals downward when a cupid straight from rehab steps in.

Entering the BlogoSphere with A Tale from Eve's Garden-Part 1

Hello out there!

Writers write.  Right?

Always a multi-media hound, I’ve now entered the blogosphere.   It’s a carnival of new ways to reach my readers.  Even better, you can talk back to me.  I hope you will subscribe to my blog and leave your comments. 

Please visit my site for information about me and my books: http://nandarnold.com/books.html

Here goes…

Recently, I visited fabulous New York City for the first time.  During my very brief stay, an opportunity presented itself to meet a friend in the lobby of a five star hotel.  Watching the comings and goings in the grand marble encased lobby, where everyone from the front desk to the concierge looked like supermodels, I speculated upon the lives of those fortunate to frequent the hotel.  This story is the result of my musings.

Most readers know me for my humor but I have an edgy side, too. I explore it here and in my upcoming release, Merry Acres Widows Waltz.

 

A Tale from Eve’s Garden

By Nan D. Arnold

Part 1

Sue Blu stared into the afternoon sun drooping low behind the trees in Central Park.  Chewing an apple, she glanced at an old family crest on the nearby wall.  Cracking a cynical smile, she reflected upon the origins of her name – actually Blum –so fitting in this blistering moment of clarity.

The unusual surname, of Anglo-Saxon origin, she had discovered –was an occupational name for a maker of blooms, an iron-worker, derived  from the Olde English pre 7th Century "bloma" (Middle English "blome"), and meaning ingot of iron.

Yeah, events by choice or design hammered and molded me into an emotional work of iron.

The half-eaten apple lost its appeal and Sue hurled it against the wall.

 Two years earlier…

A self-styled Renaissance woman, Sue changed her name to Blu when she moved to New York City, propelled by her own sense of drama and irrational optimism quite atypical of her personality.

Born of privilege and well educated for an aristocratic life, Sue had “been there and done that” ad nauseum, mentally referring to her trips around the world.  Tired, bored, and considering current options, the answer literally rolled up in the long black hearse bearing her recently deceased, well-connected Grand Mumsy.

Thanks to Sue’s selfless dedication to her grand Mum in her last years while ignored by the rest of the family, Sue was rewarded by inheriting Gran’s smartly turned out luxury apartment on Central Park South. What glorious luck. Yes! My search is over. I’ll find what I’m looking for in the Gold District of the Big Apple.  She set about the task of stamping her own signature onto the apartment. She mined Gran’s connections.  Soon she met the right people and visited all the “see and be seen” spots, often the subject of online gossip. Sue was hot, hot, hot…for a while.

Eventually, the novelty wore off and Sue slipped into disillusionment, seeking solace in all the wrong places, and teetering on the edge of a personality disorder.  Her New York City oasis swirled into a shifting, dateless desert. Then she met Jake Will……

Watch for more next week:

Lured into Fashion Week, blue eyes meet green and turn a socialite purple with rage.