You Win Some, You Lose Some

"I'm not sure yet" I replied. Tom walked over to her, gave her a kiss, then said, "Have fun!"

"You're not coming?" she asked, a surprised lift in her voice. I said "No, I've got something for Tom to do." She looked at Tom, so I said, "Let me grab a couple things from the bedroom, I'll be right back."

Ducking out for a moment to give them time to talk, I made some more calls from the bedroom to make some arrangements. I wanted to give them a night to remember, but Tom's situation was straightforward, so I put the wheels in motion. I also needed some confirmation about 'Nissa and Tom. I'd had a good feeling that they were OK, but when you've made a lot of money, and some of your dirty laundry does hit the newsstands, anything is possible. Receiving the answers I'd basically expected, I hung up the phone and grabbed the essentials that a man has to have (wallet, keys, cell phone, etc..). Ready to start this little adventure, I went back into the living room to collect Denissa.

She didn't look terribly happy, but she wasn't angry either, so I knew Tom had talked her into it. I asked "You ready to go?

"Yup." She said, just a little shortly. "Good" I replied. Looking at Tom I stated "Jerome will be here in a little bit. Just relax and let him do his job. He's the best at it, so just enjoy the ride."

Tom looked as surprised as Denissa had earlier. I laughed at them and said "C'mon folks. We're here for fun! Let's enjoy today. I promise you'll both get some of those 'new experiences' you were looking for." They both relaxed visibly. "Tom, Jerome should be finished with you around five-fifteen, so just hang around the lobby. We should be there about then." Denissa kissed Tom as we left.

She was quiet in the elevator, telling me she was a little uncomfortable. I made some offhand remark about the weather to which she replied "Uh-huh." I knew she wasn't listening, so I asked her if she knew her shirt was on backwards. "Yeah" she answered, then realizing what I'd actually asked, she said, "No, it isn't!" I grinned as I replied "Well? You weren't listening. What were you thinking about?"

She sighed "Nothing really. I just .. well.. I wonder why you're doing this? I mean, you had your problems with your wife – ex-wife – about this, and now you want to try to …" she shrugged, unable to really find the words to finish.

"Its as much for me as it is for you and Tom" I answered. "In a way, its me making sure I know my own feelings about this. So far, everything we've talked about is right on the mark. I see you and he and it reminds me of Andy and myself, but I also have learned some hard lessons the last couple years." I turned her to face me and said "And, when I find someone I want to be close to again, I want that person to be able to understand me. I want them to understand those lessons. I want them to be comfortable knowing the love that the lessons give is boundless." Denissa nodded, knowing some of what I was talking about, but not all of it. If what I was working on panned out, she'd know everything by the end of the night.

The elevator doors opened, and we began to walk across the lobby. I stopped her for a moment so we could talk. Some of what I needed to say to her really needed to be said now, even before we started this excursion. I sat on one of the couches out of the way of the main traffic area, gesturing that she should sit also.

"I've made a lot of money, Denissa" I started "but the old saw is true. Money can't buy happiness and it doesn't make you happy. Money is merely a tool." I leaned back and steepled my fingers, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to say next. "Information is a tool too. And all tools, if used correctly can make beautiful things like the furniture Tom makes."

Denissa nodded understandingly, but not really sure where I was headed with this. I continued, "In order for you to understand Tom and trust his feelings, you've got to fully understand yourself. Trust yourself and trust Tom."

"I do trust Tom" she said, "but I'm just not sure I trust myself. I'm just not very sure of… of… well, of a lot of things."

I grinned wryly "Trust is a difficult thing sometimes. Knowing how to trust yourself is even harder. Sometimes it's easier to do things for others than for yourself. Forgive others. Love others. Be kind to others. So many things we do for others that we can't do for ourselves without a lot of pain and heartache."

Leaning close to her I stated "Before two days ago, you didn't know me from Adam's housecat, and could've probably cared less. Nor did I know you and Tom. You know some things about me, but not a whole lot other than you feel like my intentions are honorable and kind. I know quite a bit about you and Tom also. Probably more than you'd believe, but some of what I've not told you and some of the things I have done I've had to do for self-preservation as well as to make sure we're doing the right things."

I'd confused her quite well by then, I'm sure. I leaned forward and took her hands "Do you trust me?" I asked, looking closely at her eyes.

'Nissa stared levelly back at me for a long, hard moment. "You know, night before last I'd have said I didn't trust any man very much. After Tom said the things he said about wanting to watch me with another man, I didn't know what to think. But I know you've been honest about what you've said." She turned my hands over in hers. "I've also always had this gift. I am a very good judge of character. I knew ten minutes into our dinner last night that you were OK. I've trusted you with some of the deepest secrets I've ever had. Ones I'd never tell even my best girlfriend. So, yes. I trust you."

"I trust you and Tom too" I smiled "maybe a little more than I should. I'm bad to let myself trust too much. And when I do, I sometimes let myself be blinded to things I should see."

I didn't really want to tell her the next part. I knew though that if the trust was to be complete, and for this to work it had to be, I had to. "Um… I've learned that I have to be careful about… people." I said. "Sometimes that means I have to do things to protect… myself.. and …"

She could tell I was having problems talking about this. She squeezed my hands and said "C'mon. Just tell me. No beating around the bush. You've been honest with us about your relationship with Andy and we've been honest too."

I nodded, lowering my eyes "I know, 'Nissa. And I felt deep inside I could trust you and Tom. But, I had to know so I made some calls to check up on you."

She was quiet for a moment, and then said "And what did you find?"

"What I already knew," I said. "What I already felt."

Letting go of my hands, she tilted my face back up to look at her "Then it's a difference that makes no difference." She leaned forward and gave me a soft, quick kiss on the lips. "Now. Lets go. You said you were gonna take me shopping!" she said, grinning.

Standing up, we proceeded out the main doors of the hotel. A long, black stretch limousine I'd ordered earlier was waiting for us to appear so it could shuttle us around town. Denissa looked amazed at how big the car was, and at the doorman who opened the car door for us to enter. "Thanks, Jim" I said. "You're welcome, sir" he replied.

Denissa looked around at the huge interior of the car, taking in the TV and stereo, the full bar and fridge. She asked "Where's the pool?"

I grinned "That's in the trunk, but they've drained it so we can put packages in it." Grinning back, she said, "Does this thing have coffee in it?"

"Nope" I replied, "but the place we're going has good coffee."

She grinned "I love good coffee. So." She said, shifting in the leather seat "where are we going, and what are we shopping for?"

"We're going shopping for YOU." I said. "and we're going to the best place in the world to find it."

"Riiiiight" she said, laughing as the limo pulled up front at a very prominent store. I'm sure you've heard of it, and no, it's not Gimball's. Walking through the doors, Denissa stopped and just looked at the immensity of it. One entire city block devoted to one store. Everything you could ever want was in this store, and I knew it had the world's best fashion area. I'd told Denissa to dress comfortable knowing she'd be changing clothes for a good chunk of the morning, and maybe part of the afternoon too.

"C'mon" I said, "you wanted coffee" We went to the café area and ordered, then sat at a table, talking about the store. I pointed out different areas, having been there several times both for shopping and for signings. I asked her about her clothing preferences, and she indicated she preferred to dress like she was today. Jeans, knit shirt, street shoes or tennis shoes. I asked her what she wore when she dressed up, and she made some remarks about the dress she wore last night. I asked some more questions then I asked "How do you feel about how you look, Denissa?"

She flushed a bit, but said "I know I'm not the prettiest woman in the world. I guess I look ok, but not spectacular."

I knew then I'd finally found what was bothering her. She just didn't have the confidence in her own beauty. She was afraid Tom was pushing her off on someone else, so he could be free. I smiled to myself, shaking my head. I'd seen the same thing so many times it wasn't even really funny anymore.

Women have this image of themselves that society has imposed which is almost always totally wrong. "I'm too •••. Too thin. My breasts aren't big enough. Too big. My butt, my thighs, my tummy.. et cetera, ad infinitum. All women are beautiful. I take that back. They can be beautiful, if they let themselves. Accepting who they are and letting that show through changes everything about how a man looks at a woman. Denissa had the physical beauty, but she'd always heard that "this" was better than she was. Maybe as a kid, her brothers picked on her, or guys were afraid to talk to her because she was pretty. Guys actually have more problems with self-confidence than women do, we just exhibit it differently.

"Well, 'Nissa, we're going to do things a little differently today. Come on" I said. We went to the clothing area, where we picked up a sales clerk. "May I help you find something?" she asked. Denissa had stopped at a book display, and I noticed she'd found my book. Grinning at the clerk, I said "Lets redo her. Here's where I want to start, and here's what I want."

We started with a satin t-shirt dress in blue. Low, strappy heels to match, when Denissa complained about high heels. Didn't matter which ones the clerk tried, she just didn't feel comfortable wearing them, because she never had worn them. Since I didn't want her breaking her neck tonight, we settled on the low heels, but I had the clerk include the high ones in her packages. Hopefully, she'd want to practice.

More shoes, button-up shirts, and button down skirts, we bought her an entire wardrobe of new clothes. 'Nissa wasn't completely comfortable with all the selections, but I knew given time after working on her attitude, she'd be happy to have the new clothes.

I had the clerk wrap most of the packages, keeping the t-shirt dress, a light silky jacket and the low heels aside for later. By that time, lunch was in order. We went back to the café where we had coffee earlier, and ordered some light food. Fish for me, a salad for her, and more conversation about Denissa. We talked about her childhood where she confirmed my suspicions about rambunctious brothers and a tom-boy upbringing as she tried to keep up. She asked me about my career and admitted she knew who I was, which caused me to smile.

"So" I asked "now that you know I'm a lazy bum, how do you feel?"

She laughed, giving me a light punch on the arm "Lazy bum's don't have best sellers." She said.

I grinned back "But, don't you know that writing is about the laziest way in the world to make a living? All I have to do is sit at a computer and type some story then hand it to my agent to sell." She shook her head, smiling "I've read your books for years. I like to read them because its always something with meaning. Something that makes a difference to someone. Even when it doesn't end exactly the way I thought it was going to in the beginning, it always ends well."

I nodded "That's what I want to bring to a story." I took a bite then said, "but each story is different, just like each relationship is different. Some work well, some have problems, some break apart and don't ever get put back together. You wouldn't believe how many books I have on my computer that have died and I've not gotten back to them to revive them."

"Really?" she asked "Sure" I replied "every story doesn't have an ending. Like the fantasies you and Tom are just now starting to explore." She got a slightly uncomfortable look on her face so I said "Lets do some storytelling of our own."

Looking interested, she said "Ok, how?" I said "All right. In this story we have several options to look at. Lets say we've got a female main character who's interested in exploring her sensuality." I didn't say sexuality because "sex" has so many negative vibes placed on it by society. Sensuality gives it a softer, smoother meaning, yet the core issues are still there.

Denissa nodded, knowing the story was going to be about her, but the detachedness of a fictional character gave her the space to explore it mentally "She has this partner who has told her she can explore whatever she wants, whenever she wants as long as its safe and he knows about it." I knew Tom had told her that almost word for word. Not because he'd told me he'd said that, but because it was the same words I'd told Andy.

Denissa nodded again, so I continued. "First, we have to decide if this is going to be a chance encounter, two people who don't know a thing about the other, or an extension of an existing relationship. Either scenario is possible, and either one works for the story."

"So, you're saying the gal's partner wouldn't have any problems with either scenario happening?" she asked.

"Nope" I replied. "He knows she loves him, and that whatever she wanted to do would only be to experience it as something she wants to feel, or because she wants him to experience it with her. " I thought for a second and added "Now, some women will do it just because their husbands want them to. And that's fine, I suppose, as its certainly a way to show him how much she cares. But unless she's really doing it for herself, in a way, its an acting job. She may or may not enjoy the sex part of it, but as long as the partner is satisfied, that's all she's actually after."

"I can see that happening" Denissa said "There are a lot of people I know who do things for their spouse just because it makes them happy, not because it really interests them. They get their happiness from the other person, not from doing .. whatever." She said

"Like what?" I asked.

"Oh, I dunno" she replied "Doing housework, taking care of the kids, being "Mom's Taxi", going to church so the husband can stay in good with the community, etc."

She sighed, "Seems so pointless sometimes, until you realize that being happy is all that counts in this life." I nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. My folks had done the same things as I was growing up, and so had I. Doing things to make others happy, while stifling my own had caused more problems in the long run than just me being myself.

"Lets change subjects" I said, wanting to keep from pushing too deep in this area again. She was making her own decisions, and I could tell by the tone of the conversation that she was thinking things through.

"Ok,' she said "What next?" We'd finished lunch and were lingering over coffee. I wanted to guide her back into how she looked and felt about herself, so I asked "What gives you the impression you aren't pretty?"

She snickered and said "I thought we were changing the conversation. We've already talked about this."

"We did a little, but we didn't get very far." I said, leaning forward. "Ok, now its just you and me. Why don't you think you're pretty?"

"Oh, I don't know." She replied "I think I look OK, but when I look in the mirror and all I see is me. I don't look anything like Carmen Diaz or Cindy Crawford or any of the other 'beautiful people' I see on TV or in the magazines." Leaning back in her seat, she said "Guys look at me funny all the time, like they've never seen anyone like me and that makes me uncomfortable because I don't know why they're looking at me."

"Stand up a moment" I said. She stood up, blushing slightly. I already knew why the guys looked at her the way they did and it wasn't because she didn't look good. Actually, it was the exact opposite. Her hair flowed around her shoulders in a soft fall of brown, her face was the face of a Madonna, and her eyes were deep, brown pools that sparkled when she smiled (which she was doing as I looked at her). Smiling brought out dimples, which gave that cute expansion to her smile, and added that much more beauty to her face. Not only that, but I had to admit her body was, for lack of a better word, dynamite.

I ran my eyes over her body, standing there before me, and I couldn't see anything to make me think otherwise. Her breasts were soft curves under that knit shirt, the little ridges of her bra adding to the visuals. Her stomach appeared flat, even after the two kids she claimed she'd had, and the package contained in the jeans she was wearing…. Well, lets put it this way. She naturally did things in a pair of blue jeans that most women couldn't do even by trying their hardest. "Turn around" I prompted. "Why?" she asked.

I grinned at her, "Just turn around" She grinned back, then turned her back to me. From behind, she had that classic hourglass figure, accentuated by the curve of her behind in those jeans. I marveled at her legs, which were clearly outlined by the pants. Yes. Calvin Klein missed a big chance when he didn't come find her.

"Denissa" I said to her "in my opinion, there's absolutely nothing wrong with how you look." She turned back around and said "Oh, yeah. Right."

Shrugging, I said, "lets go find an expert and fix you then." She whacked me on the arm, then gulped the last of her coffee, and said, "Lets go, smartie."

We went over to the cosmetics department to see what the specialist there would have in mind. I'd heard that the experts here were the world's best at makeovers, and 'Nissa had made some remark as we walked through the store about it. When we got to the counter, one lady saw us and came immediately over. "How may I assist you?" she asked. I said, "This is Denissa. I feel she has a natural beauty that needs to come out. Can you help?"

The lady looked at 'Nissa for a moment, then looked at me, a question in her eyes. I smiled knowingly, so she nodded then said, "Follow me". We went into the main area where makeup tables had been placed for the specialists to do makeovers. The attendant sat Denissa down on the chair and tipped her back a little. Setting on the stool beside 'Nissa, she asked, "You're not wearing any makeup right now, are you?" Denissa, unused to such close attention, shook her head. "That's what I thought." the lady said. "Ok, let's try this."

Picking up a color wheel, she flipped through color combinations to find the best set for Denissa's skin, hair and eye colors. Then, pulling open various drawers, she assembled a kit with which to experiment a bit. With a very small applicator, she dabbed a bit here and there, exchanging a powder and a blush, then thinking hard about the lipstick. Finally, she was satisfied with her choices and started to work.

The expert took a slightly damp towel and wiped Denissa's face. Next, she picked a brush out of the base powder, dusted it off, and traced Denissa's cheek, jaw line and chin. From a small pad loaded with blush she carefully stroked Denissa's cheeks, leaving just a hint of color. After that, she took a mascara wand and barely touched it to 'Nissa's lovely long eyelashes, drawing it up and away only a few times. Taking a small brush, she painted Denissa's lips with short, deft strokes of a gloss that had just the slightest hint of pink in it. She stopped for a moment appraising the overall effect, then looked at me. I wiggled my fingers. She nodded, then wiped each of Denissa's hands with the towel rubbing each finger separately, then the whole hand. Opening another drawer, she spun a lazy Susan inside until she found the nail polish she was seeking. Quickly, she painted Denissa's nails with almost a clear coat, but with just that same touch of pink that was in the lip gloss. She looked at me again, and I nodded approval at what she'd done. She leaned the chair back up so Denissa could see herself in the mirror. The transformation was so subtle that if you had seen Denissa only 10 minutes ago, and weren't paying attention you'd miss it. But, the effect was stunning.