“Essex House”

“Delighted, I’m sure,” she said as he grabbed her hand and pressed it against his lips.

Julie never meant to meet the man of her dreams at Essex House. She never meant to be in New York, for starters. It was an accident that she ended up here, a fluke of nature. One day she was at home on the family ranch, sitting on her horse, staring out at the space ships docked off in the distance at NASA. The next day she was standing on the roof deck of an old hotel drinking martinis, staring down at the horse carriages in Central Park.

“Have you been in the city long?” said the stranger.

“I’ve been here for about five hours,” said Julie.

“How delightful,” he said. “Bartender, another round for my new friend and me.”

The bartender shook up a couple of cocktails, a seasoned veteran of imbibing [sic] the rich and famous. He had seen this same scene play out a thousand times before. Quiet country girl, new to the city, stumbling into Essex House, drawing the attention of older less-than-gentlemen. They will drink, they will laugh. He will take her to the penthouse suite. She will never be the same again, sometimes for the better, often not.

Julie and the handsome man toasted.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. She turned and realized what he meant and blushed, turning back to the park below.

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