The Ongoing Temptations of Vivienne Costello

By Lana Wilson

Entrenched in a life of cosmopolitan chaos, Brooklynite Vivienne Costello (an uncanny and partially disturbed beauty) is the ultimate chameleon. Bold, vivacious and easily tempted, Vivienne absorbs herself in a stream of curated yet volatile relationships. By means of voyeurism, sex and fearlessness Vivienne details her ongoing escapades with a colorful variety of men一 spies, deli clerks, comedians, male dancers, bankers and venture capitalists... Vivienne's ongoing proclivity for adventure both hinders and develops her persona in the ongoing chase for wealth and freedom to camouflage her less than spectacular past.
The ongoing Temptations of Vivienne Costello chronicles her evocative escapades from the subways of New York to the shores of the Côte d'Azur. Driven by an obsessive desire for a lavish and whimsical lifestyle (Hermes over Target) Vivienne transcends her lackluster destiny for a vivacious life of her own design.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lana Wilson
• Release date: Dec 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463352779

Book preview

Elle W

THE ONGOING TEMPTATIONS of VIVIENNE COSTELLO

Copyright © 2018 by Elle W

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Elle W asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Elle W has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

First edition

Editing by Erminia Errante

Cover art by Lana Wilson

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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Dedicated to all the lovers past who shaped the voracity of my desire for happiness and freedom.

Also to my dogs Sausage and Wee.

Sex appeal is fifty percent what you’ve got and fifty percent what people think you’ve got.

-Sophia Loren

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgement

I. PART ONE

Rush Hour

Home

Storming into the Beyond

That Morning After

Wednesday's are for Wine-o's

Cold-Cut Christmas

Creme de la Creme

Quarter of a Century & One Harlem Knight

Bon voyagé

Into the Labyrinth

The Rendezvous and The Spy

Buenos

Day Break

Hookers & High Rollers

Revolution: Woes in the City

II. PART TWO

Diamonds & Salt

A Midnight Voyage Across the Sea

Precognition

Nude on the Horizon

New York State of Mind

Something Old Something New

Rambling Woman

BLUEGRASS BOMBSHELL

Unknown Number

La Grande Surprise

One Way Red Eye

About the Author

Sequel Sneak Peek...

Preface

Fair warning to those who read—The Temptations of Vivienne Costello is a medley of memoirs written in a stream of consciousness. Some ideas expressed or memories recounted may not render chronologically or completely. It is to the readers discretion to determine the accounts of Ms. Costello and her state of mind as they see fit.

Acknowledgement

I never had confidence, I never felt solid or whole or even beautiful. I acknowledge that this book was inspired by my recognition of fear within myself and the desire to overcome the chatter in the back of my mind, constantly telling me that I was undeserving of a fulfilling and freeing life. In the darkest hours of introspection, I realized that to become the woman who I fantasized about being, I must contain my fears and charge fourth to create the experiences of luck, chance and utter passion that raced constantly through my mind.

I will admit, the first time I booked a solo ticket to Europe I could’ve fainted, I’ve never spent that much money on a plane ticket, let alone flown regularly (I’m really a country girl). Arriving for the very first time in Paris to see my most lovely and dear friend Lisa was an exhilarating experience, filled with unplanned and unparalleled spontaneity, never had I been so free from the pressures of life and commitment, expectation and the reminders of poverty and strife in the entirety of my life.

I acknowledge that running away to New York, contrary to the quintessential tale of high fashion parties and glamorous cocktail hours was far from reach upon my arrival in deadbeat and soon-to-be up and coming Bushwick was less than ideal, but it was the tough and weary experience of 6 long years spent trying to prove myself to strangers at every turn that founded my courage to rebuild myself.

Cheers to you New York, cheers to you.

I

Part One

1

Rush Hour

Pushed, shoved and groped as the crowded train swayed side to side, toppling us all about; if there’s one thing I loathe about New York City, it’s the treacherous journey home. Every five steps is a new adventure, a new scenario…

One, Two, Three…

What’s your name baby..

God Bless you, God Bless you mami.. you is fine

One, Two, Three, Four…

Stand clear of the closing doors, please

Move out the fucking door pendejo!

One, Two, Three, Four, Five…

A seat opens up as I jolt across the now roaring train, securing a snug yet suitable spot to brush and comb my now knotted hair, slather on my favorite shade of velvety rose tinted drugstore lipstick, all in time to rush home through the walk of shame.What is the walk of shame you may question? Well, a 6 block journey from my nearest train station to the comforts of my reasonably overpriced apartment building in the heart of the Nuevo Urban Arts district. The community is, well colorful to say the least, a mashup of Terry Richardson meets Selena’s Bidi Bidi Bomba. Catcalling has become a daily mantra, I feel like I recite damn girl you fine 10 times just to get me through the day.

I really don’t see what all the fuss is, what it is that they see in me, or what they want to see in me. I’m average in my opinion, well is it just the sway of my thighs and the wince of my eyes haha. Ah, I need more friends, well interesting friends, I laugh to myself far too often in public, this can’t be healthy.

Excuse me…

Hey, girl with the neon bag blinding me he said. I glanced across the train car, to my surprise, he wasn’t the usual culprit, he was actually—-

Well damn, he was fine, quite handsome for a younger guy, in a single flirtatious glance he embodied what the phrase tall, dark and handsome must have spawned from. I felt my legs quiver just slightly and my knees buckle apart as I gave him a quick, yet thorough inspection. Dark wavy hair, curling and coiling around his head like a storm near the brink of calm; large hands, he has really large hands, sturdy yet gentle enough to caress the small of my back on an awkward first date. He was tall, although sitting I could imagine him towering above me if we were to stand about the jostling train car. I liked his style, he was a bit more innovative in his overall impression to his immediate public persona.

He sat across from me biting his bottom lip playfully and sliding his hands back and forth, silently—-

Are you going to say anything? he interjected.

I’m in a complete daze darling, what happened? I rambled.

He chuckled and grinned, yet again, wincing at me trying to lure me into whatever trap he’s been plotting while snuggled up against the rail.

Do you like my jacket? he asked.

Um, It’s quaint, uncommon for the area. I laughed

Oh really? So at the current time and place I’m fly! he joked.

Come on now! Did he have to ruin this chance encounter with such a lackluster response, I want to be wooed for once; it’s as if men have lost the ability to be original and selfless in their approach. I’m accustomed to my fantasy of what a man should be: a daring, masculine, romantic character, with a thick and unique accent. Let’s just say someone like Gomez Addams or Billy Zane, oh God, I’m getting carried away again.

Lennox, I’m Lennox. I’m 30 and I have no kids, Marry me… He stared straight into my eyes and actually said that. Well it was somewhat original; however, seemingly rehearsed, he was just a bit too quick witted; I always try and remain cautious of men who can make a scenario seemingly changeable with ease. As the Christians put it, ‘the Devil is a trickster, always at the top of his game’.

As the train came to a jolting halt, the doors slide open and dozens of men, women and irritably screaming children poured out of the train car, a seat opened up next to my…my… well apparently my next future husband.

Come over baby, you know you want to come sit next to daddy. Nah, Nah, I kid you, and to whom do I owe the pleasure? he smirked.

Vivienne darling, Vivienne. If you’re going to suggest a proposal, at least do me the honor of choosing a better location and throw in a ring that I can sell after the divorce. I taunted.

He laughed and stood up, slowly approaching my knees, now tightly locked. Oh my, he was actually much taller and more statuesque than I had originally imagined. I had to contain myself; in just an instant my mind was flooded with endless scenarios of sleepless nights and midnight strolls from his place to the nearest bar, only to dance alone, together on an empty dance-floor.

Well Vivienne, since you won’t come to me woman, I had to come to you. he whispered.

I was already smitten, hooked on his essence, his smell his stature, his every single movement. He made time slow ever so quickly that 20 minutes was near an eternity. Lennox sat down next to me, tightly squeezed into a seat between an older Japanese woman (who missed her stop may I add) and me. He was captivated, as was I… We recounted similar interests and our favorite shows and songs from the early 90’s. Flirtatiously patting me on the thigh in good humor, I couldn’t help but to tremble when I saw his hand stretch near mine or felt him graze against my calf with his pants leg as he nervously tapped his size 13 boot.

He was a comedian by profession and a smooth talker by trade. I knew there was a sort of magnetism that he projected, it was nearly inescapable. As we approached the station, returned his gaze, all whilst he sat laughing and smiling, his gleaming white teeth shone through his wide open full lips. As he went on with his last remarks and qualms for my phone number, the train came to an almost neverending halt; I sat there dying within, desperate for his masculine hand to just, to just… to just grab me!

Still yet the train had met it’s destination, as sadly, so had I. As I slowly rose out of my seat I stretched one leg forward, crisscrossing my calves slowly in front of him.

Mmm mm, girl you are just… let me catch myself before I get caught up.. Hold on, this is your stop? I didn’t even get your number! he shouted.

I slowly yet surely sauntered my way to the train door, as it flung open a gust of freezing wind nearly slapped me across my face blazing my hair back as If It was by synchronicity or of divine intention. I winked at him and said,

In this day and age it’s simple to find anyone. Vivienne Costello darling, bye now. I scurried off of the train into the brisk Autumn night. Finally on my last lap, journeying home, mulling over the chance encounter, Purple Rain blares throughout the streets, the airwaves carrying up onto the train platform…. the sweet sounds of home. As I elbow my way through the bustling crowd, nearly leaping down the stairway, dodging gaze after gaze, catcall after catcall… blessing after blessing, beggar after beggar. I finally make it onto the street where the shriek of Prince can be heard in full effect. I still don’t quite understand why or when animals ever