Halloween is not turning out anything like I had expected.

I have been busy preparing the Agency for the Halloween Gala for nearly a month now, and on top of that, I have been working over the last six months to prepare the on-site childcare center and preschool for its opening tonight as well. I've spent my long hours at the Agency, mainly during the times when Malachai is tucked into his bed at home asleep, or when he's with me, tucked on a cozy couch with his beloved snake snuggled tightly.

I let his father go costume shopping this year, since I was the one who finally pinned down the 'theme' for last year's excursion in Halloween trick or treating for our large brood. While Malachai had been at the helm, dressed in that lion's mane and tail, we had all taken our roles quite seriously. Of course, I had to be the lion tamer, or zoo keeper might have been my more official title last year. Anyway, I'm rambling on. So, letting his father take the baby out to costume shop, I made the natural assumption that, like last year, we'd all dress to match the real reason for the trick-or-treating.

I got the news over a quick call on my way out of the Agency as I'd made the last prep for the childcare center, and the Gala itself, and was headed to Julie's to see what she had in the way of something vampy so I could fit in.

It wasn't until time to nearly head out that I realized, out of the adults, I'd been the only one to pick a costume that was in sync with 'Chai's. The band, his father included, had all picked people from a game to be this year. Guitar Hero, I think it is. I'm sure I've seen it, or heard it, but that's the band's thing, not really mine.

Well, the initial letdown was over as I finished putting the last touch on 'Chai's costume - his plastic fangs, and then we headed for the door to begin the adventure of trick or treating again both in the building, and then along the few blocks near the building that actually had houses that participated.

As we walked, I began to realize my let downs weren't over for the night. I kept quiet about it, choosing instead to focus on Malachai, and how excited he got with every doorbell he rang. How absolutely gleeful he was, shrill squeal included, when the person would drop the candy of choice at their home into his little bat bucket. Yes, my focus was well placed, and I wouldn't have missed each and every reaction for anything.

Once we'd been out for an hour, 'Chai was loosing the excitement and growing more towards cranky with all the walking, so, we headed back to the house to rest our feet before heading off to the Agency for the Gala. It was as I wrestled the candy bucket from my son that I heard mention of getting a babysitter again so the grown-ups could go out, and Raz could finally be silenced about all the teasing he gave Fallon about being no fun anymore.

I finally set the bat bucket on the counter and looked over at them all. I was stunned into silence. I could have done what most women surely would have and pitched a bitch, whined and carried on, but I've never truly been the kind of woman who would do such a thing. No, instead I moved through the house, gathered up Malachai's bag I'd packed up earlier, and scooped my son up into my arms. I stepped into the middle of the band, and bade Malachai kiss his Papa goodnight, then leaned in, brushed a kiss to his cheek myself as I wished them all a good time. I made some small mention of being at the Agency for the party there, but I know, honestly, once I left with the baby, that anything I'd said was likely forgotten the second the door closed.

So, I am finishing this bit of post from the office, while Malachai zooms about on a sugar high. The party is starting downstairs, and I'm doing my damnedest to plaster on a fake smile. I was hurt, I can say it here and now. For all the things I've been there to support the band in, to support him in, and the one night that it's something really special here he doesn't come.

I love my son, and will never complain about bringing him with me places, but for tonight, I'd hoped to have a different kind of date. Namely my fiancée.

 

Not going to be a long post, just.. needed somewhere to vent before I ended up throwing something else. I've already thrown a steaming cup of espresso at Caleb, and hope, quite frankly, that it burned the fuck out of the man.

He is insufferable, and tries relentlessly to get on my bad side. I believe he thinks if he can piss me off just enough, I'll somehow crumble under his constant attempts to get between my legs.

Bastard. I should have aimed lower, then, everytime his cock got hard, it would be a painful reminder of how unimpressed I am with his opinions. He needs to learn to keep shit to himself, especially when it comes to my son.

One thing I will not ever tolerate, is someone making judgement calls on my love for my son, or my devotion to him.

 

Amusing how it is drawing close to Halloween, the night spirits rise from the dead, and tonight, standing in the lobby of Chimera, I saw a ghost. Not exactly a ghost, of course, but someone who was supposed to have died almost three years ago.

Caleb was one of the Rendezvous crowd, a fallen priest with a penchant for cigarettes, alcohol, and of course, debauchery. And I, was one of his favorite ways to indulge in that sinful obsession of his. I never realized the impact we'd had on one another until I saw him standing there.

I'd missed him. Truly, honestly missed the man, and yet, ask me if I could think of a moment when I'd thought on him in the last year, and I couldn't admit to a single moment.

Caleb has changed. Then again, we have both changed in the time apart, and yet there is one thing that seems to have not faded for him -- his hunger to have me.

I admit to a certain degree of temptation, but I have firmly told him where I stand, explained to him that my heart, as well as my body are Fallon's, and that I cannot, and will not go against that. I haven't been with another man in three years, since finding out I was pregnant with Malachai, and even with the reappearance of Caleb, I won't break this unwritten rule between Fallon and I, because I know if I found out he'd fucked another woman, I would be devastated...and I cannot imagine ever betraying him that way with another man.

Still, it is good to have Caleb back around, and he's taken on the head of Security position that hasn't really been filled since Dwayne left.

 

I could have completely bypassed this particular day during the year. One day would not truly have been so bad, right? It isn't that I'm afraid to grow old, it's simply that I don't want to. Selfish of me, but I'm a woman, and unlike men, who age with dignity, we women grow older and start to lose things we once took for granted.

Like the concept of gravity. How it used to work for us, but as we get older, it begins to work against us. Pulling at us, and dragging parts of us to hang and droop where they used to defy the laws of physics and gravity both and be madly perky and erect.

I work out, true, and try very hard to maintain my body's defiance of gravity, but I know someday it will win, and when that happens, I will cease to step outside of my home in anything but a Kevlar brassier, and underwear to make sure no one really knows gravity has sunk its teeth into me and is pulling me down.

On a more positive note I got my first offical Malachai designed birthday card. I love it, and it's plastered on the refrigerator. I am honestly such a Mommy.

 

I have lived much of my life in the world of beautiful people. Models are, by nature and their work, some of the most idolized women and men that one could find outside of actresses and actors. It is not something a model can choose, their beauty, but something with which they are born.

Yet, in all these years, I have never seen myself as better than another simply because my face, or figure, have earned me a considerable amount of money or enabled me to become a well established business woman as well.

I see beauty in everyone, no matter if they fit the imagined schematics of what makes someone 'perfect' or not. I am engaged to a man who some might see as odd in his choice of dress or appearance, and yet, to me, and to others assuredly, he is a beautiful, sexy man.

Perhaps it is my love for him that has made it possible for me to see not the oddity in someone like Danny, but the originality, and yes, the beauty in him. His hair is kool-aid red, and while some scowl and scoff at it, I think back to my first meetings with my fianceé. His hair had been black, with tips of red back then - odd by many people's take, yet suited him and his personality, his sexual presence very well.

Danny is no different. I had spoken with Moses earlier in the day and he'd told me about the shoot he was doing with Danny. Curious, I told him that I would stop by later, but that he wasn't to tell the subject of the shoot because I didn't want anything to ruin the mood and style of shoot that Moses was looking for with the energetic, and wild Jester.

I came as promised, and watched from a shadowed place just inside the door as Danny posed for the shutter-flash of Moses' camera. In some poses Danny was almost graceful in his body's contortions. And very nearly could have been mistaken for a woman easily. He was beautiful, and it was my fascination that lead to my being found out.

I stumbled, and cursed softly. The spell, for the moment, had been broken, and yet there, on the floor naked as the day he was born, Danny merely grinned at me like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, and played at hiding himself from my eyes. I did not stare at him, did not gawk at his crotch, but looked at him overall... and commented on how beautiful he was.

I stepped in closer, and even crouched low near the man's head, and it was then I noticed that his hand was no longer covering his crotch. He pressed his cheek to the stocking-covered thigh that was exposed in the crouch, and I could see the faint twitch of his growing erection. Danny settled his head into my lap as I slid to the floor and cradled him, and all the while he turned inward to inhale the scent of my skin through fabric, his erection grew harder.

I was, in my day, a woman given to hold little to no self-control. I was a victim to my hungers, and never had the desire to say no when presented with an opportunity such as the one I found myself in then. Danny's lips pressed at the apex of my thighs, feeling the lace that kept me covered, and while some part of me had been eager to remove the barrier, there was a stronger part of me that eased his head up, and closed off the temptation for him by smoothing myself at his side there on the floor.

I lost no clothing; kept on every stitch of it, while Danny succumbed to the desire of his own body, and that of my helping hand. I will not put him in that position again, though he did admit in a breathless exhale, that even engaged, I was not someone he saw as 'unattainable'. I was flattered by that, but then it also got me to think, to question things really.

I wonder sometimes if the people who knew me before have odds on how long I can keep going as I am? I admit to feeling a pang of lust sometimes when I watch John in the gym at work. I can remember vividly the way his hands roamed my body once upon a time, and even how his body felt when pushed against my own. Yet, I have not given in to any temptation but the one I live with, have a son with, in over two years. That isn't just a declaration of monogamy for sex. That goes for that oral fixation of mine as well. Sure, it would have been so easy to offer Danny that intimate relief instead of the more clinical use of my hand, but I cannot bring myself to imagine taking another man's dick into my mouth anymore than I could taking them in between my thighs.

Three years ago if someone had said I would be a one woman man, I would have laughed at them. And likely, I did, but this is who I am now. I accept it, and don't regret it.

 

I am, quite simply, exhausted. Perhaps some of it is an emotional drain, but the rest comes from the enjoyment of Malchai's birthday party at the Agency. Staff were invited to leave work early on Friday, go home and fetch their families, and come back to the rooftop for a jungle themed party to celebrate my baby's second birthday.

Danny went above and beyond, as one truly might expect. He dressed as a lion tamer, or jungle explorer, I'm not sure which title is most accurate. There were kiddie pools for the little ones to wade and splash about it, plenty of food and drink, and of course, cake.

Danny had given Malachai a camera to play with, but I think my son ended up taking more pictures of people's asses and crotches than he did of anyone's face. Derik came, which was a welcome surprise, and he gave Malachai a rather interesting gift. Not to mention, I got a bottle of aged scotch as well.

Viktor came later, near the end of the party, but it was good, very good, to see him there. He works harder than I do, though that is rather hard to believe.. especially if you ask my family and close friends.

Overall Malachai had a wonderful time, and he got way too many presents.

And his cake! An amazing cake decorator designed a snake that looks very lifelike, and the candles were actually the fangs. I was sad to see it get eaten.. but it was delicious. So delicious in fact, I'll be spending hours at the gym to make sure it doesn't stick around with me for the next ten years.

 

I cannot say enough how amazing a man Daniel Beuhlar is. He is a feast of the eyes in his wild hair coloring, and his choice of clothing, as well as a joy to be in the company of because it seems the man never tires of trying to find the humor of a situation. He is a true wonder to be around.

His newest feat of amazement came in the photo shoot he had offered to do for me of Malachai. I have had my son's photos taken by professionsal photographers, by people with polaroids at the mall during holidays, and even by myself, as well as the extended network of family and friends we have. He is an absolute ham for family, for friends, but when it comes to a photo that has anything to do with formality, or even a picture of him with the Easter Bunny, my son simply refuses to cooperate.

When we arrived at the studio that Danny had said he was set up in, I had no idea, truly, what to expect. But, when we arrived, I was astounded. Danny had turned the bare expanse of space into a child's wonderland. Toys, stuffed animals. So much that I simply could not take it all in, and Malachai could not get out of his stroller fast enough.

Malachai was released upon the playground, and Danny I moved aside to talk. He told me about the cameras he'd hidden around the area where 'Chai was, and we'd sneak peeks at the computer where they were all linked into time and time again to see the right shots. Yet one of the most impressive gadgets that Danny had rigged up was a stuffed elephant, that had a camera hidden behind the glassy eyes so he could catch close up shots of Malachai.

I couldn't have been more pleased with some of the preliminary things I saw on the computer, or with Danny himself. He is an insightful young man, despite his bold, and unique appearance. And, Malachai things he is fantastic.

My son is seldom ever a bad judge of character. I can't wait to see the photos when they're developed. I've already told Danny he'll likely be a personal photographer for me until Malachai's grown and gone. Anyone who can get the shots that the funnyman did...isn't going to go far. I won't let him.

 

My son has a new favored toy, or at least favored for the moment. Come the morning, I will be sure he forgets the damnable thing even exists until the photoshoot one of the new employees of the Agency has agreed to do with Malachai.

The new toy, of which I had to pry from his tired and cranky fingers, is a jester's hat. Black and red, with bells that jingle and jangle at the ends of each point. The new employee, Daniel, had been wearing it for the preliminary headshots we do on all clients, especially fresh new faces to add to the modeling portfolios we have aplenty. Danny, as he prefers to be called, is also a musician, and so he wanted to make a statement with his shots as well.

In a Freddy Kreuger style sweater, but red and black, the jester hat, leather pants, and a pair of half-laced combat boots, he more than made a statement...he made an announcement. I've not seen someone as openly daring and uncaring of current fashion trends as Danny is in quite awhile - not counting Fallon, of course, or Shelly, or...hell, any of the Ssyndicate, really.

Malachai had been out with one of the interns getting a bit of air while I was stuck on a conference call for the better part of an hour, and upon his return, he found me standing next to the jester, and the snakeskin clad Derik Shaw in the Agency bar on the first floor. My son was excitable, and shrieked and squealed while running pell-mell into me from across the Lobby.

I love when he does that. I hope he honestly, never stops, though I know he will...and when it happens, I shall mourn that openly. As I lifted him to set against my hip, Malachai spotted that jester's hat immediately, and tried as hard as he could to be sneaky about wanting to grab it.

Danny seemed good natured about it and plunked the far too large thing on 'Chai's head much to his gleeful delight. The next hour or so was spent with Malachai playing peek-a-boo from beneath the hat's band while I tried to find out as much as I could from the young man about his first day at Chimera. Malachai was fascinated with the hat, but Danny's fire-red hair was a close second, because there were quite a few times when those pale blue eyes peeked from the hat just to look and blink at the man's hair.

I'd have to say that the color of Danny's hair, and the shocking pink of Shelly's would send anyone into a sugar-shock coma. Or, possibly make them go blind.

Danny's ease and his playful nature in entertaining and playing along with 'Chai prompted a conversation about children and photographs. That conversation then lead to Danny offering to do a photo session of Malachai. He has a horrible time sitting still for the portrait studios, and even the pictures we take at home are usually of him in a hurry to move and get the hell out of the way. He's a ham, yes, but he's not a very photo-friendly ham. So, sometime before Malachai's second birthday, Danny's going to try his charm on Malachai and see if he can get a few decent photos taken of him for my scrapbook that I started even before he was born.

The hat didn't go with the jester who'd worn it, but came home with my own mini-jester, who fought and fought to be able to sleep with it over those jet-black curls of his. It was a struggle, but the hat was left in the living room, as the eye-rubbing bundle was toted off to bed with only a few whimpers heard before there was silence.

That reminds me. I need to make sure to hide the damn thing before I head to bed, or I'll be stuck listening to those bells jingle-jangle all day tomorrow. That, wouldn't be good. It'd be about as bad as being stuck with a twitch everytime I heard an elevator ding for almost a year sometime back.

Damn men and their senses of humor.

 

Doctor's offices are not my favorite place to be, and it's even worse when that doctor is a Pediatrician. Don't get me wrong, Malachai has the absolute best Pediatrician, but the office waiting room is a sheer nightmare. They have games and things to entertain the kids, but what about us poor parents? We who have been up all night and are barely running on fumes, are left to watch Dora the Explorer, or read magazines that date back to before I'd ever seen the inside of a Pediatrician's office.

Malachai had been prone to ear infections since he was tiny. His pediatrician told me that it could be a result of his premature birth, or a whole slew of other things. If there was one thing I was thankful of with this man, it was that he always seemed to know when to reassure us first time mothers that we weren't to blame for every single thing that went wrong with our child.

I had come to the office for yet another ear infection, and this time, the pediatrician sat down with me, after first bringing down Malachai's fever and relieve some of the pressure in his ears, and discussed what needed to be done to try and stop this from happening so often.

Tubes. He wanted to refer me to an ENT, or Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist to have Malachai screened for receiving tubes. His Pediatrician held my hand, and again, reassured me that it was a common procedure, especially within children because of recurring ear infections. He told me that the specialist he was sending me to was the best, and would explain every detail of the procedure with me. Right down to how long Malachai would be under the anesthesia, and how long to expect him to need recovery time after the procedure.

I was shaking when I left the office. Malachai is such a good baby, he knew something was wrong and leaned his head in to comfort me, even though it was I who was supposed to be comforting my ear-infection riddled little man. I had the referral, and was amazed that there'd been a cancellation this afternoon. We went right over there, and met with the ENT.

He was an older man, with this almost Santa Claus look about him. I was worried Malachai would shriek and scream, but the doctor knew just what to do to keep him happy, and let him do all the examinations he needed to have done. I have never seen so much information layed out before me. I run an Agency, have dealt with contracts, and still, I think there was more information in the brochures, handouts, and even a video than I had seen before in my life with regard to one subject.

The doctor put my mind at some ease, but it was another mother waiting in the waiting room who helped to ease my worries even more. She had three children, and when they were younger, all of them had been plagued with terrible ear infections. One of her sons' ear drum had been damaged because of the pressure and was partially deaf because the previous doctors she had seen did not catch it in time. She was kind, and spoke very highly of the doctor, as well as the procedure. She was a grandmother now, and her granddaughter was the one being seen now.

I had my reassurances that my son's ears, as well as the rest of him, were in good hands. I still know that when it comes to the actual procedure date, I'm probably going to need to be sedated. I cannot go into the operating room with him, and that frightens me more than the actual implant of the tubes into his ears.

Friday, April 27th. That's when he'll be having it done. I come the day before to the office for pre-op readiness, and information, and then the next morning bright and early, we head to the hospital for the surgery.

I'm scared, but I know it's for the best. I have to keep on my brave mommy face for Malachai, or he'll read me like an open picture book. He's like that. It's almost scary how good he is at it, too.

 

I stood there, looking at myself in the mirror, and wanted to cry. When had I gotten older? Was it when I wasn't looking? Was it true what they said of having children ... that they age you ten years? I tucked the single grey hair that had started me down this path of questioning and discovery carefully back into the arragement I was doing for my night out, and sighed softly.

I did not want to go, but as Owner of the Agency, I had little choice. Luckily, my date for the night was a man of good spirits and knew just how to get me motivated.

"Abri! Let's go. You're going to be late, and I am not going to take the blame for this at work on Monday."

Leave it to John to know just what to say to get me moving, mm?

I had managed to bring myself around to the idea that this was something I must do, though I would have far preferred to remain within the sanctity of my home curled up watching a Wiggles video with Malachai over playing social butterfly for fashionistas and their bank accounts.

John was my match in his tan jacket and pants, with the rich emerald tie setting brightly against the white shirt. My dress was khaki and green, and the accentuating belt around my waist was white, with inlayed emeralds around the clasp. We would definitely make a statement when we arrived, I only hoped the gossip columns would be more interested in the celebrities that were coming, than in dragging my name through some fabricated puddle of mud.

The company car was cozy, but it wasn't my Cherokee. I've gotten used to driving the SUV, and find taking any other mode of transporation lately to be severely lacking. Though I think a lot of it has to do with Malachai's carseat being fixed in the backseat, as well. I'm used to glancing back in the rearview mirror and seeing him busily beeping away on his play horn, or making waving gestures with his hands to the traffic outside the Jeep's windows that he couldn't see, but was cursing in true New York fashion.

The event was just as I'd predicted... long, hot, and dull. The designers they showcased were 'safe' with their work. There was nothing flashy or daring, and so it made my time in the front row uncomfortable. Not to mention some of my models were the ones wearing the trash. After the show, a few of them caught up with me and told me that one of the designers inparticular was too drunk to even help the assistant get the outfits ready.

My Agency was not throwing this event, and that much was very apparent in how things went from there...down.

I made it home safe and sound, though, and after John agreed to walk the sitter to her house a few floors below mine, I checked in on Malachai. Such a sweet baby, even if he is getting so big much too fast. I changed out of the dress and took a nice long bath. Candles flickering with the scent of vanilla in the air, hot water, and a chilled glass of wine from the bottle kept in the refrigerator.

That was the highlight of the night. And to my dilemna earlier about getting older, well... I'm realized I can't fight the actual turning older part, but I can sure as hell fight looking like I am. I'll go see my stylist tomorrow, and get that nasty little grey hair, and any of his friends, taken care of immediately.