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His home, a private suite on the top floor of the
hotel, was an
unexpected surprise. I half expected it to be a sterile, masculine
place with a lot of glass and little color, like his office. What I
found instead was a home, not unlike the one I'd been kicked out of,
cozy and warm, but more luxurious than I was used to. It could only be
reached by the private elevator, accessed from downstairs. There were
three buttons inside; ‘residence', ‘office', and ‘lobby'; a key-card
was needed for activation - the elevator wouldn't move without it.
"So what's your actual name?" he had asked on the way up.
"My friends call me JJ, which is short for Jason Jake. Last name's
Carter."
"I'll use Jason, if you don't mind; I like to call people by their given
name. My father used to call me MB, and it drove me nuts. So please
call me Michael. My full name is Michael Bartholomew Black."
I shrugged but he was pretty adamant about it.
"It's important: the small things, like middle names and such, are going
to sell us as a couple."
The elevator arrived with a soft ping.
"We have the rest of this afternoon and evening; and tomorrow morning,
to get to know this sort of stuff from each other: little quirks, likes
and dislikes, things like that."
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