The Apple of My Eye

Some Girls

I made my peace with Mia the day after I returned from my stupid trip with Married Stink Breath. We hadn't exactly broken up or anything, it had been a minor lovers' spat of no consequence, but we had makeup sex in my office anyway. Most of the people who worked there had already punched out for the day, and the whole place was quiet as a library. Sweet.

It was great to be back together with Mia. She didn't complain about stuff, she didn't make me feel guilty for not giving her enough attention, she didn't disapprove of my lifestyle, what with all the traveling and being unavailable to her on weekends and everything. And Mia was just the right amount of young and pink and yummy, and she smelled fantastic at any time of any day. Ah, the light, fresh, happy smells and flavors of my luscious little Mia. Add to that her tight-fitting skin and a plump round ass that was nothing short of a miracle, and who could ask for more?

Yet I simply didn't seem to be able to fall in love with her. Not that I had been trying or anything, but still, what was wrong with me, you know? Had Star scarred me for life? I loved being with Mia, spending time with her, talking to her, the whole enchilada, but that was it. If she wasn't around for some reason, see, I was fine with it. More than fine with it, really, I simply didn't miss her. I didn't care. But she did. She cared, and she missed me plenty. She was always looking me up and coming up with fun ideas that we could put into practice together, but I would always inevitably dismiss most of them. The only real fun we ever had together was when we were sexing each other up in that wicked office of mine. We did a considerable amount of naughty stuff in that office, I tell you, far more than we did anywhere else, the whole time we were together. Mia was truly remarkable. But that still didn't prevent me from looking for my fun elsewhere, too.

* * *

There was this associate of sorts who lived and worked in this other city, incidentally the same city where Peazer lived and worked. The same building and everything. Her name was Tiffany. There wasn't a hierarchical relationship between Tiffany and me, much as there wasn't a relationship of any kind, really. We merely worked for the same people, in more or less the same capacity, but our paths never really crossed. We barely even talked to each other unless we were attending some meeting together or some shit like that, like the event early in the year, for example. Then we'd greet each other politely, nod respectfully, and move on. I knew Tiffany was married and had a little boy, but that's pretty much all I knew about her. Until the day when I found out more, that is.

I think it was her birthday or something. You know how Skype—always Skype—will remind you when it's someone's birthday, right? (Those notifications, as annoying as they are, can be quite convenient conversation starters, I tell you.) So I send Tiffany a happy-birthday message, you know, as you do, nothing fancy. She thanks me, we start talking, and the conversation lasts a little more than it needs to last. No big deal, though. This sort of thing happens all the time, so I think nothing of it. The next day, she has a question about something or other, and, what do you know, calls me up to see if I can help. Me of all people. I can help, and I do, and from that moment on we start throwing one-liners at one another for the rest of the day. Pretty mundane stuff, too, you know, the weather, what time she goes home, what it's like to have a little kid running around the house, that kind of thing. What this means, see, is that I'm not trying anything here. I'm definitely not trying to be interesting. Who talks about the weather when they're trying to be interesting, right? No one, that's who. Anyway, what I'm saying is, I still think nothing of it. It's not like we are mutually captivated or anything, but the truth is that the exchange does last the whole afternoon, that it does.

It doesn't take Tiffany and me very long to go from multiple five-minute daytime exchanges to skyping for hours in the middle of the night. And we're not just discussing the weather now, I guarantee you. I mean, as a rule, you just have to know there's something cooking when a married woman is skyping with some dude she's barely acquainted with, right in the middle of the night.