Dancing With Fire

- Coffee -

Besan seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.

"Ugh, you should have seen my face! He was just trying to do his job and I put him right off. He looked like he'd never seen a cash register before and I was there biting his head off, talking about blue Slurpees."

Besan cackled, rolling over on the pullout sofa. I sat on the rug by her, angrily rolling a cigarette.

"That's so funny! Like you couldn't find any other place to lose your shit, Maya?"

"I don't know what was up with me. I was freaking out in all types of ways" I licked the rolling paper and sealed the ciggy. "Honestly, he was cute but the line was not that great. And I still felt my insides melt a little."

"Babe, you're the horniest girl I know, for as long as I've known you! All this stuff with your work boy, too. That tension's been building up for too long, you gotta release it."

I walked over to the balcony door and slid it open, leaning just outside so I could light my smoke.

"He is not 'my work boy'," I sighed, "He's just nice to look at."

"So?" Besan sat up, crossing her legs, and stared at me with her big, bright eyes, "You've mentioned him more than once. Why don't you scratch your itch with him?"

The image of Imran's lean frame and soft curls flashed across my mind, and my tummy did a backflip. The kind of tummy backflips I needed to stop having every time I came into contact with an attractive man. I was practically randy.

I shook my head, flicking ash over the balcony. "No, no work guys. They're off limits."

"Why, though? The studio doesn't have rules against company romances." Besan pouted.

"Romance? Ew, no, don't call it that. Makes it sound all sappy and gross. I just don't dip my pen in company ink. It always gets messy." I took a drag. "I need something else..."

"What about that musician fella? What's his name?"

"Out of town."

"Damn. You need someone fresh, babe. Maybe you should've taken that Slevin boy up on his offer." Besan winked at me playfully.

"What offer? He said I was pretty, he didn't hand me his dick on a platter." The mental image alone drew a smirk across my face.

"Oh, please, don't be dense. Isn't that what guys mean when they compliment you?" She teased.

"It pretty much is, right?" We both laughed like the mean-spirited, man-objectifying bitches we were. I put my cigarette out in an ashtray and shut the door quickly. The cold started to hit bone-deep again.

"I'm definitely going to need someone to keep me warm at night in this damn weather." I rubbed my shoulders, sitting back down on the rug, "and the last thing I need is some wide-eyed cashier. I need to step it up, not settle. I'm not scraping the bottom of the barrel yet."

"So, let's go out! Go see a show or something. You're bound to meet someone juicy."

"Hmm... I don't know..." I began to fuss. "Work's been getting really hectic..."

Besan narrowed her eyes.

"And how do you expect to meet anyone new if all you do is live at the office? Stop using work as an excuse! Come ooon, live a little! There's got to be something for you..." Besan fished for a Monte Carlo out of the biscuit packet and took a thoughtful bite. She had a certain look whenever she was figuring something out - head cocked to the side, nose wrinkled, like a cute, serious bird.