“How do we always seem to get on these topics?” His pale skin appearing a bit flushed with what could be embarrassment. “I swear, you women are worse than any men’s locker room!”
“Oh, never mind Mike, just answer the flippin’ question!” Belinda blurts out almost too excitedly, her eyes gleaming as she anxiously awaits his answer.
Mike and Belinda had worked together for several years and they had become good friends in that time- a friendship which was always easy and comfortable for both of them. Michael Akande, a tall man with a runner’s build, pale skin, eyes so intensely dark they often appeared black and with hair to match, dressed impeccably sharp. In reference, you might say he is handsome in his way, a man of quiet confidence. Belinda Kalu, a fiery brownhead with dark eyes, a curvaceous figure and the stubborn tenacity which, like her hair, was handed down to her from her mother. Both are highly regarded in their respective field of forensic check, dealing mostly in contracts from various governmental agencies.
Silence hangs in the air like a flag awaiting its breeze to animate it. The other gals in the office were all anxiously waiting for him to continue. Being the only guy in an office full of women was sometimes tasking. This was not one of those times.
“Well,” he slowly sighs, wondering if he should entertain them. “I’ve never had a problem finishing it.”
The women all simultaneously whoop and giggle. He’s enjoying this bit of schoolyard toying. He leans his tall, lanky frame casually over the partition that divides their work stations and decides to go on… what the hell. His long fingers run absently through his sleek, dark hair, his speech is slow, deliberate, “Sometimes… there is an issue getting started…I mean…” He pauses purposefully for dramatic effect then continues. “Well, never mind. You’ll all just think I’m one of those assholes who likes to brag.” With this, his full lips quirk upwards at the corners, exposing just a glimpse of his perfect white teeth below. Oh yes, he’s enjoying this.
Reading between the lines, Belinda scoffs, “I don’t believe you.” Her hand waving in the air dismissively as she twists around in her chair and begins to work once again at her computer. Her hair is pulled into a simple ponytail, which swings back and forth slowly from the motion, suddenly tiring of this silliness and the near endless, blatant flirting from the female office staff
“You don’t believe me?”
Belinda does a half-turn in her wheeled computer chair and when she looks at Mike, he has his hand over his heart in an exaggerated, mocking gesture of being mortally wounded, but in his eyes she thinks he actually looks a tad hurt. Perhaps he’s feeling a bit ganged up on, she wonders, or maybe because she isn’t just blindly backing him up as a friend should do. Nevertheless, his dramatic demeanor makes her giggle in spite of herself. Besides, what would she know on the subject?
“Mike, I know you, and know say you dey full of shit!” She laughs, shaking her head as she returns once again to her keyboard. Trying desperately to get her mind back into the analysis she’s been working on, and which is due the following morning.
From behind her, she hears Mike jest, “You want to see for yourself?” He knew she would back down then and was already planning to make her buy him beers after work for her insolence.
She was more tenacious than that…never letting a challenge get the better of her. No, her years growing up as the only daughter of five children gave her a wicked tenacity. Besides, he was bluffing; she had known him long enough to know that. With forethought abandoned and hands which had crossed her chest unbeknownst to her, seemingly of their own volition, glaring into his eyes, she says, “OYa show us!”
Carried away by the moment, he begins marching toward the elevator.
Belinda looks at her co-workers, who are all shaking their heads in unison…he was definitely bluffing. She decides to call her old friend on his bluff, and starts after him. She needed a break anyway.
Determined, he hits the elevator call button. Alone in the hallway, they stand in mutual, silent defiance and after a moment the doors slide open with a ding sound and they step inside in near unison. Mike turns to face the car’s opening, and Belinda turns to face him.
Glancing over his shoulder, he looks down at her. “Here?” he asks, his face is serious but the light dances in his dark eyes. There is a playfulness and also, she thinks, a bit of uncertainty.
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