The Do-Over(18)

A two-man shop at the time, I met with the charismatic video producer and knew within minutes why no one had made it past the twenty-minute barrier. Answering one of his questions with blunt candor, Chris pounced on me with a rather intimidating response.

Instead of crumbling, I maintained eye-contact with this handsome guy and just began to laugh at him. “Looks like I’ve hit a hot button, huh?”

His smile was slow and I could tell by the laughter in his eyes that I had just passed the Chris O’Donnell test. When I left his office nearly two hours later, there was no doubt in my mind that I had found a new home.

“Do you know if he’s coming back in at all today?” I asked Donna.

Sitting back, she just shook her head. “I highly doubt it, it’s out at the Long Island National Golf Course in Riverhead.”

“Oh yeah, forget it, that’s over a two-hour drive.” My question was going to have to wait until Monday.

“And he had a limo take him,” Donna’s tone was conspiratorial, as if this were some Earth-shattering secret.

Laughing, “Good for him. And other drivers on the road. Sounds like he’s going to be doing business in the clubhouse this afternoon.”

Chris was legendary for bringing on new clients in the hours both on the fairway and those that followed at the bar. Our biggest clients came on board over a glass or two or three of Glen Livet.



Leave work and meet me at the Waldorf Astoria.

Matthew’s daily messages had become the highlight of my days. Logging on and seeing the little green dot next to his name instantly brought a smile to my face. The moment I signed on, I could count on a greeting and a message from him, as if he’d been waiting for the little green dot to light up next to my name. The man had me feeling like a middle-schooler.

It was Friday and our infamous brunch date was now only two days away. After work, Laynie and I had plans for highlights, eyebrow threading and champagne, as I prepped for Sunday’s meeting.

Why? Did Room 69 just open up or something? I kidded.

Ha-ha. You just can’t wait for brunch to ravage my body.

This man was so cocky. Ravage YOUR body? You’re the one who just invited ME to the Waldorf.

Only because I know when you see me you’re not going to be able to keep your hands off me. ?

You are just that irresistible to women, Matthew?

Carissa, you are toast.

I was afraid he was right.

We’ll see. I’m still praying you’re not my dentist in disguise.

LOLOL. I can promise you that I am not. I can also promise you that you will willingly open your mouth for me. I’m getting hard just thinking about you.

The man was killing me. All I wanted to do was lock my office door and call him. I needed a cold shower. Suddenly waiting until Sunday seemed ridiculously far away.

I said a silent prayer that he would be as great in real life as he’d been over the past two weeks and that we’d have great chemistry – that went both ways.



“You need to rid yourself of that hairy bush. Maybe just a landing strip.” Our highlights were processing, and Laynie was on her second glass of champagne. “I am not letting you walk out of here with that beast between your legs.” She was dead serious.

“Please,” my tone was meant to shut her down. I took another sip of champagne before shaking my head.

“Tara, you’re making sure the hair on your head looks fabulous before you meet him on Sunday. Why would you not make sure the hair for his head looks fabulous, too?”

With an exaggerated sigh, “Because his head will not be playing I Spy with any of my body parts.”

“Let me see his picture again.” She put her hand out for my phone.

Handing it over, I watched her facial expression morph from interested into pure lust. “Why would you not f*ck his brains out?”

“Because I really like him. I’d like to get to know him and see if this could go anywhere.”

“Girlfriend, what is wrong with you? The ‘90s are over, Tar. Time to join this century.” Motioning to a tiny woman, “Thao, my friend here needs her hoochie updated. Leave her a little landing strip and put it on my bill. Thank you, doll.” She then turned to me. “Not another word,” she warned, her pointed finger close enough to the bridge of my nose to feel the heat.

I held out my glass for more champagne and said nothing.



The outfit was brand new. Highlights were fresh and all excess, and potentially offending, body hair had been professionally removed. I’d spent more time in the gym over the last two weeks, since my first online conversation with Matthew, than I had in the past year, as if mega-workouts could miraculously morph my thirty-nine-year old body into its perky twenty-three-year old former self.

“I can’t wait to hear what he’s like in real life.” Jill increased the incline on her treadmill. She was as excited as I was, having lived through the morning updates of my nightly conversations with him.

“I’m really nervous,” I confessed. “I just know that if this is a bomb, I’ll really miss looking to see if he’s logged on and waking to his messages.”

“No need for nerves. You are fabulous and smart and gorgeous. And if it doesn’t work out,” waving her hand, Jill gave me what I already knew was great advice. “Next!”