Never too Old to Learn

By Candice Christian

Jordan travels for her job and is away from home 50 weeks of the year. If asked she would tell you the job contributed to her failed marriage, and several failed relationships. Knowing the source of her problems, she has buried herself in her work and nearly drowns herself with vodka. There is no doubt she can't allow this to continue, for the sake of her career, and her own well-being. If only someone could show her, and help her out of the deep hole she is in.

 

Her day of reckoning, or her Waterloo surprisingly happened in Texas, while drinking in a hotel bar. It was there she met a strikingly beautiful woman, named Madison, who was the epitome of everything Jordan wanted to be. Beautiful, confident, and easy to talk to. The two women hit it off right from the start and they talked and shared stories of their past well after closing. Not wanting end the night, Jordan accepts Madison's invitation to go back to her room for a drink and continue their conversation.

 

The next morning Jordan woke back in her own bed unable to remember how she got there. Discovers a note from Victoria explaining she put Jordan to bed because she was in no shape to do it herself. At the end of the note Victoria told her she was looking forward to seeing her at 6 o'clock that evening. The comment stunned Jordan knowing how she must have behaved the first time met. Maybe her luck was changing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tenth Muse
• Release date: Oct 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215382110

Candice Christian

Candice was born in Paris KY on 9 January 1988. Her parents, George Bertrand Christian, an attorney who once aspired to be an actor, and Frances Hollowell insisted that Candice and her sister Simone, be sent to a Catholic school. Candice was deeply religious as a child, at one point thought of becoming a nun.

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Never too Old to Learn

Copyright 2024 Candice Christian

Published by Tenth Muse at Draft2Digital

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Connect with Candice Christian

Acknowledgements

Brianna Beach

Chapter One

Following my first night in Texas, I woke confused.  I was in my room, but don't have a recollection of how, or when, I got there.  I was naked under the sheets, and I never slept nude.  My head felt like hell as I saw the clock and panicked.  In exactly one hour I had a meeting. 

I raced like a madwoman to dress and catch a cab to my first in a long line of meetings during my second day in Dallas.  Before heading out the door I noticed an envelope lying on the coffee table labeled with a large script written J on the front. 

It was from Victoria:  Jordan, it was lovely meeting you last evening.  I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing you for bed.  You were in no condition to do that for yourself.

Tonight, around six then,

V 

I blushed from head-to-toe and reread the note.  Her penmanship was spectacular.  The brief note was written clearly and concisely.  The note was written with the well-practiced hand of a woman with both culture and means.  Every time another prognosticator of great technical feats spoke throughout my agonizingly slow day, I thought of Victoria's brief note, `She is so quiet and confident...and wonderfully succinct.'

Then my mind went back trying to recount the day I arrived. I recall it was not one of my better days and I was taking it out on everyone who met me?

The me is Jordan.  Jordan Mason.  Jordan to my friends and family.  I'm thirty-seven years old, twice divorced, no kids, and terribly angry with work and life...

***

It was six o'clock in the evening on, yet another Monday spent away from home as I reflected sadly up my life.  I was at the point where I could barely remember what town I was in, much less what day it was. 

`Dallas, this month I'm in Dallas,' I remembered sorely, `all because that bitch Heather had another goddamned family emergency.' 

Single consultants were always the first to get chucked out the door for these brutally long engagements.  What had been a pleasant regional consulting job months before, was now a pain-in-the-ass international job, due to staff cutbacks and other cost-cutting measures within our firm.

I was tired and frustrated. 

I hate flying, and even more, I hate flying and having an initial meeting with a new customer in yet another wood paneled boardroom with a fist-full of manage-by-magazine no nothings on the same day. 

Why yes Mr. Jones, your idea is completely fabulous, it was the same in every town, in every boardroom, `sanctimonious assholes.' 

I'm standing in the lobby of another stupid, business class hotel.  I'm waiting for another clueless bitch with a fifth-grade education, from some godforsaken, third-world shithole, trying to figure out the computer she's standing before. 

She giggles, I get angrier.  She smiles politely, I get enraged. 

`Shit I need a drink,' I'm praying this day will wind down soon, `where's the fucking bar?' 

No smoking, yes? the girl just keeps piling-on those straws. 

No... smoking...I reserved a smoking room, Christ, it's not her fault, where's the bar? 

The other side of the lobby ma'am, she was trying to be helpful, but the ma'am thing just about killed me. 

Take them to my room and bring me the key in the bar, I almost threw the room key at the bellman, gesturing towards my bags, before I marched towards the magic elixir that makes the pain go away. 

As I enter