Dabbling in Danger

Staying Late At The Office

"Can I get a pack of Marlboro's?" I ask sighing at the counter.

The cashier dressed in a Metallica tshirt and jeans grabs a carton and scans it, "9.89."

Damn, I don't remember cigarettes costing so much. I slide the cashier a ten dollar bill and leave not waiting for the change.

When I get in the Jeep I almost light up, then remember how hard it is to get cigarette smoke out of leather.

I drive back to the office and sit on the block bench next to the stairs.

I run a hand over my face, thinking about when the Public Affair Installers put in the bench. I don't know why it had such an impression on me, but things felt more in place afterwards.

I bring the cigarette to my mouth and instantly a consistent breeze starts up.

Unable to wait any longer I cup my hands and squint my eyes as I flick the lighter a few times. Once getting the cigarette lit I pull in a long drag and exhale.

The smoke rumbles around in my chest, I suppress a cough.

Finally the building anxiety eases, I'm sure it's more of a mental thing than a nicotine fulfillment.

I haven't smoked since leaving the military, that's been a few years. The mild disappointment in myself feeds on itself for a bit until I tuck the feeling away.

Closing my eyes, I take a couple more puffs.

I stretch my legs out in front of me and tilt my head back slightly inhaling the smoke again when my attention is grabbed by clicking heels against the stairs.

I don't move except to bring the cigarette to my lips and I realize the clicking stops. Then I feel a presence before me. Again I don't move, but I do open my eyes to see Christina standing in front of me.

She's dressed in the golden sweater I complimented on two days ago and jeans with silver heels. I like to think it's because of me, but that's rather narcissistic of me.

She pulls her lips into a flirty smile.

"Hello, Mr. Hutchinson."

Before replying, I bring the cigarette to my lips again, curious on what sort of subtle hints she'd throw at me today.

For the last week, Christina and I have been playing an unspoken game.

It's where I happen to forget some important information about a client. So, I call for Christina where she passively flashes a little something as a reminder.

It's innocent enough, but a dangerous game to be played.

I bring the cigarette to my lips, "afternoon Ms. Williams," I inhale.

"May I join you?" She asks a bit too innocently.

I flash a coy smile and slide down the bench, "be my guest," I say.

She sits down and pulls out a carton of cigarettes tucked in her bosom. She fumbles intentionally I'm sure. I glance over for a second to catch her breast jiggling.

After lighting up, she blows a gust of smoke in my direction. I chuckle once and do the same to her, she smiles then looks straight ahead.

"How is your wife?"

She asks nonchalantly as if she and my wife were acquaintances or had history at some point.

I ash out the stub that was my cigarette and nod blowing out the remainder of smoke in my lungs.

"She is doing fine."

I can't help but get annoyed by the mention of Tiana. But it only makes sense, my entire staff knows about my wife. I can say I was proud once.