LITMIR.BIZ

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is great! I think I have landed the Pacino account!

      Get out! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.

      Wasn’t that sweet? Dior thought. He doesn’t even know me but he’s proud of my successes. He’s a real gem.

      I almost blew it, though, she typed.

      What makes you say that?

      Dior grinned as she typed a message telling him about her first day in New York City and her chance meeting with Al Pacino.

      LOL. You are crazy! I knew I liked you for some reason. When will you find out for sure if they’re going to go with your campaign?

      Probably in another week or so.

      Well, let me know if you get it because I’d love to take you to celebrate.

      Dior hesitated. The temptation was too much to bear. She started typing.

      How about we just go ahead and celebrate now? I’m free tonight.

      But before she could hit the Send button her cell phone began vibrating.

      “Hello. This is Dior.”

      “Hello, beautiful lady,” Chris’s cheery voice said.

      Reality check, Dior thought as she erased the message without sending it to Mr. Good Black Man 2008. A real man in my bed is better than a cyber one I’ve never met.

      “I’m fine,” Dior said as she logged off the Internet. “In fact, I’m psyched! I think I might have landed a major account. Congratulate me!”

      Chris chuckled. “Okay, congratulations.”

      “In fact, you should take me out tonight to celebrate.” Dior leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She could feel herself getting moist as she remembered the passion they had shared just three nights before.

      “Funny you should say that. I was just calling to see if you were free. I can’t get you out of my mind.”

      “Now, that’s what I like to hear. See you at seven?”

      “It’s a date.”

      Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Dior’s doorbell rang repeatedly. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece as she rushed out of the shower. It was only six. She hoped Chris wasn’t coming over early. Throwing on her bathrobe and sliding into her slippers, she ran to the intercom.

      “Who is it?” she asked, a little frazzled.

      “It’s your knight in shining armor,” the voice responded.

      Dior frowned. “Who?”

      “It’s Jerome,” the voice sounded.

      “What do you want?”

      “I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I gave Miss Margie her money back so you can just go ahead and pay me now so we can keep the peace.”

      Dior suddenly got so angry she stormed out of the door in her robe and slippers. “Jerome, I don’t believe you.”

      “What? I thought I was being nice….”

      “Go to hell! Before I smash you in the face, you lousy bastard.”

      “Yo, you know you don’t have to be so—”

      “Jerome! What I tell you about harassing my tenants? Boy, don’t make me go get my baseball bat and swat the shit outta you,” Margie’s voice rang out behind them.

      “Miss Margie,” Jerome started stammering. “I was just—”

      “Boy, I know just what you was trying to do,” Margie said as she walked up behind him and swatted him upside the head. “Now get outta here before I call your mother and tell her you’re still out here trying to hit on young girls with your trifling ass.”

      “Man, forget you and her,” Jerome said as he backed away from the door. “I got me a real nice girl. A professional girl with a good job, too. I don’t need to be messing with you.”

      “Yeah? Well, then don’t,” Margie shouted at his back. The woman then giggled and turned back to Dior. “Actually, this time it looked like I was saving him from you rather than saving you from him. I thought for sure you were going to knock him out with your little bitty self. Bet he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

      “He’d just better not,” Dior said as she stomped back into her apartment.

      Later on that evening, Dior relaxed in Chris’s arms. “You know what? You really grow on a girl.”

      “Talk about growing…” Chris smiled and moved Dior’s hand to his manhood.

      A wicked smiled appeared on Dior’s face. “Better yet, let’s not talk about it. Let’s get to doing something about it.”

      “Dior! You did it! You landed the account! I just heard back from Pacino’s people. Congratulations!”

      Dior looked up at Barbara in disbelief. “Really?”

      “What do you mean, really? Yes, really! And I’m really taking you to lunch to celebrate. In fact,” Barbara said grandly, “I’m taking the whole team out to lunch! No, scratch that. We’re going out for cocktails. I’m feeling good today!”

      “Congratulations,” Candace said with the most insincere smile Dior had ever seen. “I guess you’ve cemented your position here, haven’t you? But then maybe I could have landed the account if…” Candace’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, never mind,” she muttered as she walked away.

      Dior wondered what the girl was going to say, but didn’t wonder long. She had phone calls to make. First to her aunt Claudia, then to Gordon in Human Resources, who said he’d already heard and told her that the powers-that-be had already arranged for her to get a five-thousand-dollar bonus, and then to Chris, who heartily congratulated her.

      After Dior finished her calls she turned on her computer to do some shopping. She hadn’t been at her new job a month and already she landed a prestigious account. I owe myself a new purse for this one. She gasped when she saw that Gucci had a new clutch bag priced at $980 with matching sunglasses for an additional $550.

      She felt only the slightest pang of guilt as she ordered two of each. True, she did need to pay off the coming American Express bill, but after all, a bonus was supposed to be spent on luxuries, not necessities. At least that was her philosophy.

      She felt a stronger pang of guilt when she logged on to MySpace and saw that there were eight messages from Mr. Good Black Man 2008. She’d been almost totally ignoring him for the past week because of the time she’d been spending with Chris.

      But that’s life, she thought as she deleted the messages without reading them. And Chris is real life. And real good.

      “Are you ready?” Larissa interrupted Dior’s leisure.

      Dior looked up a bit startled and asked, “What time is it?”

      “Four thirty.”

      “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late. Let me just shut down my computer.”

      “Okay. Just meet us in the lobby,” Larissa said, leaving Dior’s cubicle.

      Dior logged off MySpace and shut down her computer. She gathered her belongings and went into the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup. She made sure she looked as cute as she did when she first left her house that morning. From what she read, there were going to be lots of prospective companions at the lounge she was on her way to.

      Dior, Barbara, Larissa, and three other ladies from the agency took the elevator to the parking garage. Half of the group, which included Dior, got into Barbara’s Mercedes S550 and the other half drove in Larissa’s Infiniti M45. Larissa followed Barbara to Chill Lounge in Midtown. They valet-parked and went inside the lively after-work spot. The music was a mix between

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