Fast Lane | ✔️

11

The Young Woman stepped deeper inside the closet and let her hands trail deliberately along the row of designer suits worn on the most special of occasions. She removed a navy-blue Armani pinstripe from its hanger and gathered it into her arms, bringing the garment to her nose and deeply inhaling the musky scent attached to it. Brooks had not taken it to the dry cleaners after he'd worn it last, and it held the sweet smell of man and sweat, the very essence of who he was. She felt an intimate stirring deep within her stomach, a sensation she had grown so accustomed to.

She hung the suit carefully before leaving the closet and walking toward the bed, where she gingerly set down her bag. Slowly, she removed all of her clothing and folded the pieces neatly, stacking what she wore in a pile on top of the bedspread. The zipper of her sack opened smoothly, and she removed the contents inside, eager to get to work. There was so much to do! Once her gift was laid out in front of her, she picked up her camera and started taking pictures of the room. She already had a collection of similar photos at home, but these would be different, these images would hold a piece of her in them.

Just as she turned to begin the task of what she had come to do, a large mirror caught her eye and she stared, mesmerized. There she stood, naked, in the bedroom of Brooks Kennedy! She didn't normally enjoy looking at herself in the mirror, but this time she wasn't embarrassed by what she saw. She felt almost . . . proud. She looked happy standing in the buff among the belongings of her love. The Young Woman felt her excitement stir, and before she even realized her own intentions, she began to take pictures of her reflection.

Someday, she might even share the images with Brooks.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The fundraiser had been a success. Attendance was high and performances were flawless, there was no doubt the deserving charity had made a good amount of money from the wealthy party-goers.

Just as the event was wrapping up, Brooks received an invitation to partake in a rowdy night on the town. Even though the thought of hanging out with his friends appealed to him-some he didn't get to see nearly enough-he declined, blaming it on a massive migraine and an early-morning meeting.

"Suit yourself, man," jousted Avi. "More women for me." Brooks didn't care, he was not about to let his hard-on make any more decisions for him. He'd promised himself a life-change, and that was exactly what he intended to do. He was proud of himself, turning down a night of fun had not been easy, but he'd done it. That had to count for something.

He settled into the backseat of the stretch limo, a service he rarely requested, and decided to enjoy the short ride home. It wasn't often he found himself adjacent to the driver's seat and he took advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the view. The decorative lights that crawled up the tall palm trees along Rodeo Drive cast a warm glow against the cobblestones and the designer shops continued on as far as the eye could see. It was no wonder the extravagant city attracted its fair share of tourists year after year; it wasn't difficult to see the appeal.

So very far from where I grew up.

Brooks remembered a time when walking the streets of Beverly Hills had seemed a pipe dream, but to actually be a resident of the notorious town? Reality still blew his mind every time he slowed down to think about it. He'd come a long way, that was for sure, but he still had so much farther to go. Achieving the dream had not satisfied him the way he imagined it would, which lead him to believe he'd been doing it all wrong. If only there was an instruction book that came along with life! Something that advised and directed a person toward the right path, especially after they'd fucked up. But no, he could not be so lucky. He would have to figure this mess out on his own. What a drag that was going to be, but he had heard someone say once that "Anything worth having was worth fighting for," only at the time he thought it was stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Brooks was into taking the easy way out, whenever he could, anyway. He'd struggled enough getting where he was, the time had come to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Or so he had thought.