The Mercer Hotel isn't as fancy as the Mandarin Oriental, but it's still no small potatoes. The cheapest room is $525 a night and the most expensive (the "penthouse suite") costs $3,300 a night. A gentleman dressed in Kenneth Cole-ish street attire opened the door to the hotel and welcomed me with a big fat smile. I walked into the lobby with more confidence than I had at the Mandarin. Five days earlier I was a bundle of nerves, but now? I was cool as a cucumber. I strutted past the wine bar and Armani look-alikes and said to myself,
"Oh please. I got this."
I walked straight to the back where I assumed the elevators would be. Again, I was to never say FP's name. If someone were to stop and ask where I was going I was to give them the assistant's name and suite number and just keep walking. But no one stopped me. The elevators were just where I thought they'd be. One arrived. I stepped inside (you liking all these drawn out moments?). I made it to my desired floor still feeling calm. I walked down a long hallway (the decor was very minimalist and modern with low lights). I found the suite. I knocked on the door and a second later FP's assistant opened it. I quickly realized this wasn't FP's room (this was a tiny room). I was in the assistant's room. She asked me if I'd ever signed an official document saying that I would never speak of anything that I saw or heard. I said I hadn't. She found the paper for me to sign. I should have read the darned thing, but I just signed and dated it and in a flash we were both out the door. She was taking me to FP's suite on the other side of the hotel. The assistant had a ton of keys on her. Don't know if FP had more than one suite in the hotel or not, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did. We arrived at a door that was much larger and more intimidating than the assistant's door. We walked into a very expansive loft suite that held a huge bathroom on the left with a free standing bathtub (that could probably hold three average-sized people), a kitchen area with a fridge and sink and bar and I think there might have been a stove in there too but I looked too quickly to take it all in, a huge living space with couches, a dining table, a flat screen TV, oh and treadmill. I didn't think there could be any more to the suite but it kept going. The assistant walked past the dining area and began quietly walking into another door. I wasn't sure if I should keep following her, so I asked,
"Am I supposed to follow you?"
"Yes," she said.
We were now in FP's bedroom. FP was sound asleep on the bad. It was dark in there. The curtains were closed all the way. I didn't understand what was happening. The assistant then instructed me to work on FP's legs and feet for 45 minutes. I was confused. I asked if I should massage them while they slept (?).
"Yes."
"No problem, " I said.
FP was laying in their undies face down on top of the covers in a mountain climber position (right knee up, left leg straight). They were cuddling with a bunch of pillows. So...I just got right in there and started working. I remember FP requested deep work on 10/02/11, so I made sure to use very firm pressure. No matter what I did to them, they didn't wake up. I'm pretty darned strong, so I expected a flinch or something when I got to their shins, but still nothing. Just the sound of FP breathing softly. I finished my work on the right leg, covered it with the comforter and moved to the left side. Because of the position of their body, I couldn't easily get to all the areas on the left that I'd gotten to on the right, but I did my best. I reached under covers around their thighs to get to all parts of their legs. I watched the clock and made sure I gave them exactly 45 minutes of work. I didn't know if they were gonna be rushed off to some appointment, so I wanted to do a thorough, but speedy-ish job. When the 45 minutes was up, I quietly grabbed my things and walked out the bedroom door. I was now in their living room all by myself. I sat on the couch and slowly put my shoes on (had to take 'em off while massaging so I could get on the bed and get better leverage). I didn't wanna dilly dally too much, but I did wanna wash my hands, so I went into their very large bathroom. it looked like it hadn't been used yet, so I felt nervous about using a towel or soap and making a mess, so I just decided to wash my hands when I got downstairs. I opened the door to the outside and closed the door behind me. When I got downstairs I sat in the lobby for about an hour just enjoying the moment. I heard a young man pitching his TV idea to an older gentleman who looked like an Italian mobster. Come to think of it everyone in the lobby kinda looked Italian. I got an idea to take a photo, but didn't want to be the obvious poor girl taking a photo of the expensive lobby, so I decided I'd take a photo, but looked pissed off while doing it, so it all balanced out a bit...
And then I made my way outside and went to yoga like it was just another day...
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