Drew Riley: Night Doorman of The Eastmoor on Park

I'm stuck in an uptown lobby while my dreams of making it as a model in New York hang by a single thread. Meanwhile, Olivier Arnaud lives his best life as a useless socialite, flaunting his wealth, his looks, and his privilege. His gaze taunts, and his nightly, condescending smirks burrow deep beneath my skin where I simmer with bitterness and hate.

The day he asks me to deliver his mail directly to his 12th floor penthouse, he makes it personal, and the thread snaps—violently. With my hand around his neck, I feel alive for the first time in months. Though my frustration may have found the outlet it craves, my body's response causes everything I thought I knew about myself to shift.

Faced with vastly different but equally uncertain futures, our baser needs align, turning our increasingly heated encounters into a reckoning—both sexual and shockingly emotional. I know I have to stop. The last thing I can afford to lose in this heartless town is one more piece of myself to a man who already has everything.