Lost in Los Angeles

1

This summer arrived a bit early in Los Angeles. On the sidewalks, the lush trees blocked much of the sunlight, casting scattered shadows that poured down through tiny gaps and swiftly darted into the hats and clothes of passersby.

In the few days since Sienna Jacob returned to Los Angeles, it had been nothing but work, leaving no chance to pause and enjoy a moment of peace. After an exhausting schedule, she felt dizzy and found this place almost unfamiliar. Rarely experiencing a free afternoon, she seized the opportunity to sit in her favorite old restaurant from college. In front of her sat a cup of milky tea in a bright orange plastic cup, while she lounged in a worn green booth, gazing at the hurried pedestrians outside, reminiscing about the past.

She was not a native of Los Angeles; although born there, she lived in a southern inland city until the age of ten, when she moved to Los Angeles. The city she once called home was peaceful and quiet, in stark contrast to the bustling vibrancy of Los Angeles. Initially, the unfamiliarity of her new surroundings was quite distressing for the young girl. Fortunately, she adapted well and gradually got used to it. After graduating from high school, she attended Caltech, pursuing a major she was not particularly fond of. After two years in a related field, she had a sudden impulse to head north to New York, finding a job unrelated to her studies, busying herself with organizing art exhibitions worldwide. Many around her thought she was being foolish, leaving a good position at a multinational corporation for such whimsical pursuits, but she paid no heed, believing everyone has their own aspirations.

Now, Sienna was living a relatively satisfying life with a comfortable existence, a job she liked, and perhaps a decent boyfriend… or maybe not.

With this thought, a slight, barely noticeable smile crept across Sienna's lips. As a modern woman, she had plenty of words at her disposal to describe such relationships, yet she felt those descriptions fell somewhat short. Between her and her boyfriend, it was more about physical intimacy, yet there was also a spark of soul connection, though they were far from a conventional couple. In summary, she did not know how to describe this peculiar relationship. Content with the status quo and lacking any desire for further contemplation, she chose to ignore it.

Her “boyfriend” was particularly busy; some months, he would contact her for several consecutive days when in high spirits, while at other times, he might not send a single message for the entire month. Of course, Sienna was just as much the same. Naturally averse to prolonged emotional closeness, she did not rely on anyone else for her physical needs, so there was no objection.

She met her boyfriend in New York.

The weather between New York and Los Angeles was drastically different. In November, Los Angeles was just beginning to feel like autumn, where one could still shop in thin long-sleeve chiffon dresses. Meanwhile, by November in New York, it was already deep autumn, with ginkgo leaves carpeting the ground, a brilliant golden hue warming the increasingly cold city.

It was in such weather that Sienna encountered Elliot.

As Roman Roland once said, the world is not lacking in beauty, but in the eyes that discover it. Sienna had never questioned this statement, but the moment she laid eyes on a tall man wearing rimless gold glasses, looking cultured yet unable to hide the perfect muscular lines beneath his shirt, she knew at least she did not lack eyes to see beauty.

He gazed upward, studying a landscape painting from Russia. In the painting were vibrant flowers in the foreground and wide, clear skies in the background. The artist skillfully arranged colors to create enchanting scenes that drew one's spirit in. However, at that moment, the painting lost its luster in Sienna's eyes, overshadowed by the man before it.

She approached him, her instincts momentarily dulled, only recognizing his notable identity through his last name on the way to her hotel.

Regardless, status and power ultimately meant nothing in the face of intimacy. All worries and unease could be cast aside.

Boldly, she turned to look at the ever-composed man, observing his long fingers wrapped around his phone, the elegant curve of his jawline, and listening to his gentle yet somewhat distant voice. He was exceptionally perceptive, noticing her gaze almost instantly and nonchalantly glanced in her direction.

Sienna smiled and felt no shame, her gaze growing more audacious.

He spent about five minutes on the phone, and in those five minutes, Sienna studied him. The conversation was not particularly important, merely a discussion of trivial matters, so it was no wonder he did not avoid her.

“Is it beautiful?” he asked as he removed his glasses and wiped the pristine lenses.

“Beautiful,” Sienna replied with conviction, sitting up straight. “If you were to make love to me like this, I’m sure I would climax quickly.”

He pressed his lips together, remaining silent.

2

Upon entering the hotel room, as the warm light coated the space, he gently lifted Sienna, who lingered at the door, hesitant to step inside. The door slammed shut with a loud thud.

“Be gentle,” Sienna murmured.

It was unclear what she meant.

Sienna was not a person consumed by carnal desire, yet she had to admit that when he entered her, making love, her mind spiraled into wild chaos, thrusting her into swirling waves. All her senses were stripped away, save for the connection between them, which pulsed with an abnormal intensity.

"Abnormal" was an apt description, she thought hazily, still sweetly intoxicated by the blossoming spring. There were moments of fireworks bursting and moments of flowing water—was that normal?

No, she realized, she had lost control.

If her vagina could lead to her soul, then her soul must have been invaded by him.

His movements surged over her territory like a storm, starkly contrasting with his emotionless expression. Yet the beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed him, clearly signaling his arousal.

Sienna had never known she could moan so naturally. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, whispering a few words in his ear. Moments later, a growing heat radiated from her lower abdomen, as if a relentless flame was kindling within her.

She became lost in the sensation.

As the waves receded, he withdrew, carelessly tossing aside the used condom.

Sienna entered a dazed respite, reluctant even to move. She lazily pulled the blanket over her exposed body, squinting at him.

In the midst of her confusion, she gradually awoke, murmuring his name, Elliot Langworth. She didn't know him, yet being a keen observer, she could piece together his identity from his surname and her conversation with the secretary. Engaging with him was a double-edged sword. Sienna preferred to avoid complications; she was just an ordinary woman, perhaps too clear-headed for her own good, unwilling to step into a world that wasn't hers. But fate had other plans.

She asked the man, who wouldn’t easily drop his mask even in the throes of passion, “Next time?”

The man, who had just donned his trousers, zipped them up while leaving his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his muscular chest before her, stirring up a desire within her once again. But she ultimately refrained; after already indulging twice, he met all her standards in every regard, and one more round would be too much. She understood well the principle of knowing one’s limits.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the pair of beautiful legs extending from beneath the white duvet—long, straight, and well-defined, they were anything but slender.

She was an incredibly alluring woman.

Reckless and enchanting.

Elliot donned his shirt and jacket with meticulous care, fastening his cufflinks precisely. He approached the bed, looking down at her, attentively adjusting the blanket to cover her exposed chest, his movements simple and elegant, leaving no warmth behind.

“Don’t catch a chill,” he said gently.

Sienna smiled, reaching up to grasp his wrist, tilting her head to meet his gaze, and lazily replied, “My business card is in my coat pocket.”

Elliot skillfully extricated himself from her grasp, found her beige coat two meters away on the carpet, dusted it off, and handed it back to her.

She reached into the pocket, retrieving a business card to present it to him.

He took it, glancing at it briefly.

“I’m Elliot Langworth,” he stated, though he should have known she already knew.

Sienna did know, but she still smiled and nodded, her crescent-shaped eyes twinkling innocently as she said, “Sienna Jacob, nice to meet you.”

In theory, it was a formal and sincere introduction.

If they hadn’t just made love, it would have been genuine as well.

Elliot Langworth was unfazed by her playful jibe, responding calmly, “Likewise.”

3

Sienna rarely thought of her boyfriend; if it weren't for the rare afternoon she had to unwind, she might not have remembered him at all. But now, when she did think of him, it was just a fleeting moment.

Previously, there had been a lot going on in New York, and she had spent half a year there without returning to Los Angeles. Whenever she visited the Macy’s at Herald Square, she couldn't help but recall the Beverly Center. In truth, shopping malls were mostly the same—modern buildings, flashing LED screens, and a steady stream of tourists. But perhaps people had their sentimental attachments.

The enjoyment she experienced back then was different; her family was neither wealthy nor poor, comfortably middle-class at best. As a student, she had limited savings, and even if she wanted to shop in places like this, she didn't have the means to buy expensive items.

Yet, she still found joy in it. The rich had their ways of enjoying life, while the poor had theirs. She and her close friends would wander in and out, treating it as a form of relaxation, arriving empty-handed and leaving with maybe just a couple of cups of milk tea.

Looking back now, she felt that her younger self had been too naive, testing the waters at the edge of glamor, both yearning for and looking down upon the shimmering excess.

She really wasn’t a lovable child.

Now, adrift in life, she found herself yearning to return to that past.

She was no more a charming adult now than she had been then.

Choosing to take the bus, she got off near the park. This area remained unchanged, wide roads flanked by sidewalks, where a long footpath had a warning rope to prevent people from crossing the boundaries. Many women in headscarves ignored this, laying out cloth on the ground and sitting right there.

Sienna remembered how it used to be like this; she was surprised to find it hadn’t changed.

She looked around, wondering if this year’s flower market had opened, but she had little interest in seeing it.

Moving forward, she would likely encounter a narrow, dimly lit passage under a short bridge, bustling with many Southeast Asian and Central Asian vendors whose makeshift stalls displayed ethnic instruments. They would sometimes play music, lounge on flowerbeds smoking, or loudly speak in a language unfamiliar to the city's residents, provoking laughter from those around.

Residents or visitors often found them annoying, unwilling to spare even a glance in their direction, not wanting to linger for a moment. Sienna didn’t know if their instrument sales were thriving, but she had never seen anyone stop to listen.

This city had far too many distractions; it would be an understatement to describe it as a place of both tolerance and contradiction.

In summer, Los Angeles was hot and humid, the stifling air making one feel uncomfortable. The shaded areas offered some relief, so she noticed that more people gathered there as she walked through the crowded spot. She gracefully passed by, and just beyond lay a vibrant new world.

Regardless of the time of day, this area was never lacking in people. Sienna navigated through the crowd, walking aimlessly but paying slightly more attention as she passed eateries. Thinking of the excess weight around her middle, she resolutely controlled herself from stepping inside.

Sienna was a determined person; apart from her milk tea, little else could sway her.

She ordered a cup of milk tea.

Before she knew it, she found herself at a department store, where people continuously entered and exited. Most of those coming out were carrying bags from major brands, their faces filled with happiness. Unlike them, she held onto her cup of milk tea, savoring every sip.

Her desire to shop was low; by rights, she should have brushed past the store. Ultimately, it was her boyfriend—who was rarely on her mind—that made her change her mind and step inside. Just before returning to Los Angeles, she had celebrated her twenty-seventh birthday, and he had gifted her a diamond necklace, the cut remarkably perfect and of excellent quality. When she saw it, it rested quietly in a dark blue velvet box, sparkling under the light. She thought it would be quite impressive to wear to a dinner party.

She really liked it, but it was just a matter of like.

For that fondness, she felt she should prepare a gift in return.

4

Sienna couldn't recall which brands were on which floors, so she took the escalator and browsed each level. As she moved from the second to the third floor, she suddenly realized she didn’t know Elliot’s preferences. Momentarily struck by a whimsical thought, she considered indirectly probing him. She picked up her phone and opened her messages but hesitated to enter their conversation. She recognized that subtext was a hallmark of his social circle, and her methods felt too naive.

Instead, she opened her social media feed, casually scrolling through until something interesting caught her eye.

“Homemade mango mousse? Not bad.”

“Scenic photo? Location: Louisiana… she doesn’t like to travel.”

“And there’s a dinner gathering? That’s somewhat intriguing.”

Sienna clicked on the photo, where a vibrant array of dishes dazzled the senses, accompanied by enticing wines, all presented with elegance. The chic bouquet of bellflowers on the table paled in comparison; had it not been for the hand of a man inadvertently captured beside it, she wouldn’t have noticed the delicate blossoms at all.

She exited the photo and glanced at the comments. The poster was a socialite she had met in New York, certainly not in the derogatory sense, while commenting was a wealthy heiress.

Sienna often interacted with affluent young ladies and daughters of officials. After all, to dabble in art collecting, one must have a bit of disposable income. She was just an ordinary person making her way in the world, naturally needing to align herself with those who held financial power.

The wealthy young lady and the socialite exchanged playful banter, and their conversation stretched on. Sienna skimmed through a few quick exchanges until she stumbled slightly, almost losing her balance.

So, scrolling on the escalator was indeed a dangerous endeavor.

After regaining her composure and shaking off the shock, her mind briefly blanked before she recalled her purpose for being there.

Sienna was unclear about Elliot's preferences. In her memory, he was always meticulous and serious, meeting her dressed in meticulously pressed formal attire. She appreciated his restrained demeanor but occasionally found it lacked a sense of fun.

She pondered these thoughts while stepping into a more casual shop, browsing for a considerable time without arriving at a decision. Finally, when she found something she liked, she realized she had forgotten to check the size. Sienna suspected she had left something important at home today. With a sigh, she sank into a plush sofa and texted him. She was uncertain if he would respond; if there was no reply within five minutes, she would leave the store with nonchalance under the sales assistant's curious gaze.

Unexpectedly, he replied quickly, though not with the answer she sought, but with merely a question mark.

Sienna frowned until she reread her message.

“What size are you?”

It certainly was ambiguous. She added:

“Clothing size.”

This time he understood and provided her with an answer. Sienna got up, selected the pieces she had just seen, and asked the sales assistant to find the corresponding sizes to wrap up.

While waiting to check out, she glanced at the message he had sent, inquiring when she would return to New York. Sienna replied that she would be back the day after tomorrow. Picking up on the conversation, she asked:

“What made you take the time to text me?”

He said,

“Let’s grab a meal.”

Sienna raised an eyebrow; she was somewhat mischievous. She forwarded the photo from the socialite's post to him, asking,

“Is that your hand?”

He responded,

“Yeah.”

He didn’t ask how she knew, but she was inclined to answer. After paying with her credit card and leaving the store with her shopping bag, she took a few steps before pulling out her phone and typing a message,

“Do you know why I recognized it? Because I remember how it made me feel at the peak of pleasure.”

5

Sienna's words were a spontaneous whim; she never imagined that karma would strike her so quickly. She had no intention of meeting him so soon, but he was a master of persuasion, dismissing all her excuses with just a few words over the phone, his tone both firm and politely reassuring. The duel of words between them was far less intense than their encounters in bed, yet Sienna still felt she had exhausted all her strength.

Ultimately, she relented and asked his driver to pick her up at the airport. His driver was quite young, a lad in his twenties. However, after spending time around Elliot, he had learned the ropes: he remained silent and businesslike when he met her, even seeming too indifferent to engage in small talk.

Fortunately, Sienna was used to it. The weather in New York wasn’t as humid as in Los Angeles; despite the recent heavy rain, she didn’t feel any droplets clinging to her skin. She rolled down the car window, letting the wind rush in and tousle her long hair.

As the city lights began to glow, the night was just starting to unfold—it was all perfectly timed.

Sienna lost herself in thought for a moment before realizing they were not heading to the Forest Manor. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the villa,” the driver, Lynn, replied.

Wealthy and extravagant, she thought and added, “Even a cunning rabbit has three burrows.” Sienna intended to ask Lynn to take her luggage back to her apartment, but he mentioned that Mr. Langworth had other arrangements. What other arrangements? She looked around; this minimalist-style standalone villa suited her aesthetic, but she was reluctant to leave her belongings here.

However, she wasn't foolish enough to press Lynn, as she couldn't expect a hired worker to divulge anything. When that person arrived, she would know everything.

According to Lynn, the rightmost bedroom on the second floor was the master suite, implying it was available for her use. After retrieving her beloved Crayon Shin-chan pajamas from her suitcase, she closed it contentedly. Then, she opened it again, put the pajamas back, and pulled out a silk lace nightgown she adored.

The quality of the nightgown was excellent—soft, lightweight fabric and a superb cut, with high slits on both sides and a deep V-neck that she found very satisfying.

Estimating he wouldn't arrive so soon, she considered taking a bath. The Forest Manor had an exceptionally comfortable jacuzzi, and she figured this place would also have something similar. If not, she wouldn’t mind settling for a regular bathtub.

To her surprise, as she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, she spotted a men's suit jacket hanging on the coat rack.

Sienna guessed he must be in his study. This time, she was mistaken again.

A warm hand descended onto her waist, slowly trailing down to her abdomen, with a clear intention to go lower. She jumped slightly and quickly grabbed his hand, initially intending to stop him from roaming, but he reversed his grip.

“Is this the kind of surprise you give me right away?” Sienna felt his body heat; memories of tender moments rushed back, and she felt a stirring of emotions, her voice wavering.

“Is it not allowed?” he asked.

He remained calm. If his lower body wasn’t pressed against her backside, she thought she would believe him.

“Do you want to make love to me?” she tilted her head slightly, relaxing her body and unconsciously leaning back, almost melting into his embrace.

“Hmm, is that okay?” His voice was steady, though she sensed a hint of tremor beneath it.

“Of course,” she replied with certainty.

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