I woke with a start, running my hand along my face. I got back home late last night, and I was praying my Mother wasn't up. To my surprise, she wasn't waiting up for me, so I managed to slip back in unnoticed.

"Good Morning, Charlotte," Salem beamed, coming in to open the drapes.

"Morning," I sighed, folding my arms together over my chest.

"Ready to start your day?" She asked.

"Not yet," I sighed. "Give me at least an hour." She nodded her approval, and then left to make the arrangements.

Today wasn't a normal day either. Today I had to prepare for my parents charity ball. This meant I had to get my hair, and makeup done, and pick between a range of gowns that my Mother picked out. But the only thing I can think about is what happened last night.

Flashes of him touching me echoed in my head. I closed my eyes right and tried to remember every moment. "Do you trust me?" He asked.

"I just met you," I scolded, turning my head from his piercing gaze.

I sucked in a huge breath, finally getting myself out of bed. Making my way to the bathroom, I began to run the shower so I can prepare for the long hours ahead of me. I stripped my clothes off in front of the mirror, memories of him doing the same rushing through my head.

I don't know what came over me last night! I had never done anything like this before! Whenever guys come onto me, I usually just roll my eyes and ignore. They come with the same tired lines; "you're so beautiful" "you're so that". But something about him was just different.

Was it his deep, teal eyes that got to me? His scruffy brown hair? Or maybe the stubble on his chiseled jawline. Maybe it was the way he touched me, and was so gentle... my mind trailed off to ungodly places, a place where I was horny as hell.

In the shower, I started to run my hand over my own body, imagining it was him. My nipples hardened just from the thought of him alone; my hand crept down towards my vagina.

I imagined him going inside of me slowly as my hands travel to my vagina, pleasuring me, although not as good as him. When I was done, I finally remembered where I was. Not at his place, but my spacious, marble bathroom.

I gave him my number last night afterwards, but once guys get what they want, there's no need to wait for the phone to ring.

After showering, I put on my cotton robe, and headed to my bedroom. Salem was there, laying out the dresses on the bed. I couldn't believe an hour had passed by already. "Do you want me to let everyone in?" She asked, and I nodded, sitting down at my vanity.

"Hi miss Charlotte," my hair stylist smiled.

"Hi guys!" I beamed. I had a whole team assigned to me on days like this. I felt like a celebrity; a goddess. It was the only time I felt important, and not like plain Charlotte.

There was someone for my nails and feet, my hair, and someone for my makeup. The only thing about getting pampered is the time it takes. I hate sitting down for a long time.

Nearly two hours had went by, and we were just getting done with everything. Once everyone left, I looked over all the dresses she picked out.

Terrible colors, cheap threads, no taste. I sat down in my armed chair alone, trying not to loathe everything about my life. A girl can't even pick out her own dress! Why can't I at least pick the dress?

*~*

I sat down at the round table, sipping on champagne. I watched as my Mother and Father paraded around like the first family of Medicine. It took everything inside of me not to scoff. Why can't life just be spontaneous? Who said we had to play by these plans and rules? People think that people that are born into money are lucky, but they don't know how much of ourselves we really sell to get that money.

We're a slave to money, and then we die. That's our lives. It's worse for us, we don't choose, we're born into all this.

Deciding that I no longer wanted to be in attendance, I stole two glasses of champagne, and snuck out onto the rooftop.

From the first glass of champagne I was already tipsy, I sat the other glass on the ledge, and went to town on the other one in my hand. Champagne isn't strong liquor, but it does take you wear you need to go.

I stared over the ledge as I sipped my champagne, New York City blaring in the far distance. I never went into the city, I only was allowed on the outskirts. My Mother always said it was vital to our image if we didn't associate with the streets of New York.

Sighing, I leaned back against the ledge, closing my eyes tight. I remember sneaking up here as a teenager. My friend Harry who's long gone now, showed me how to get here. We'd sneak away from the Gala's and parties when we got bored, then stay here all night.

"Is this where the pretty girls go?" A familiar voice rang.

Startled, I jumped seemingly out of my skin. "Jay," I said breathlessly. "What're you doing here?" I blinked in shock, afraid that he was so close to home. If my Mother saw me out here with him, forget what happened last night, she'll blow a fuse.

"When I met you last night, I didn't know we ran in the same circles," he smirked, grabbing the extra glass that I had.

"I don't run in any circles," I replied softly, still shocked that he was here.

At that he laughed, looking out at the city. "No, I don't suspect you do." He sipped on the glass, so I resumed drinking mine as well.

"You're so timid," he smiled softly. "But you always speak your mind anyways. I like that in a woman."

I shied away from his penetrating gaze, embarrassed about the places that I allowed him to take me last night. "This is my parents event," I responded.

"Wooow..." he trailed off, shock apparent on his face. "Well, I have a company here that donated. Someone has to show up. I have to admit though, you don't strike me as the pageant, trust-fund type."

I shrugged. "Maybe I'm not, but does that matter to them?" I asked him.

"No, I guess it wouldn't." He finished his glass, then leaned on the ledge in front of us. "It matters to me though," he said suggestively. "I can't be with someone like that..." he trailed off.

I leaned my back on the ledge next to him, then smiled softly. "Well who can you be with?" I teased.

"Someone I can trust," he replied simply. "And I already know you trust me," he smirked, his eyes dancing over my body. "Now I just need to know if I can trust you." I blinked in response, remembering how I let him ravage my body like a Sunday meal. Did that really mean I trust him? Or was I just tired of my body being an island?

"If I tell you to jump off of this building, would you do it?" He asked, his eyes staring at the 10 floors below us.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered, thrown by his question.

"Would you jump?" He asked again. I turned around, peering down at the pavement below. "Well?"