Thread: Four Letters (Ariamella and Dane Stalling)

. . . haha, yeah, not that it wasn't right or anything, but- but . . . The sandy haired man in front of her trailed off some story about work when he heard Cameron's words, gluing his eyes to his hands for what seemed like the thousandth time. He wasn't bad looking. In fact, plenty of women would even say he was attractive, but his reserved, almost shy nature was something to get used to. He was interesting to talk to though, and even when Marisa could tell he wanted something from her, she didn't really mind it. Not really. Really? Marisa thought, blinking once, eyes widening before she glanced up at the ceiling in an obvious eye roll. She watched the Asian man retreating back to his booth. He was somewhere in between Guy 1 and Guy 2, tactful enough to keep his distance but forward enough to throw the bone out and say something so crass. Yet she found herself intrigued, curiosity spiking up even more once she realized haven't I seen him before? But of course she'd had to have seen him before. Duh. The red paper slips came from people in the office. He might have been fuzzy, and she didn't know his name, but at least he was recognizable. You know what, um . . . she said, turning back to Guy Number 2. What was his name again? Nick? Neil? Oh, Nate. Nate. I would love to finish this conversation, but right now I need to talk to my, um, friend . . . coworker. She felt bad about abandoning him, especially because he was nothing like the first man, so she dug out a pen and a pad of sticky notes, scribbled her number on the top square, then peeled it off and handed it to him. Call me, she murmured with a smile before slipping away to the booth. Really? Marisa asked with a hint of sarcasm, slightly raising an eyebrow at Cameron. She stood staring at him, letting her eyes drop down his body and back up to his face before flashing him a grin. I was starting to think that whoever wrote me the slip didn't have enough balls to actually do something like that, but congratulations, you proved me wrong. She slid in across from him just as the sandwiches came, and another smirk lit up her face. Dinner? I didn't realize this was a date. The teasing was lighthearted, but after the first guy who approached her, the attitude running through her was pushing record highs. At least Cameron didn't do what that asshole did and touch her. She liked compliments and open appreciation -- it didn't take much to flatter her -- but there were definitely lines that weren't meant to be crossed upon a first meeting, and creepily touching others was one of them. There were also so many guys like him walking around the streets of LA or anywhere really that the 'I'm such a stud' approach hardly worked anymore. Good looks weren't the only prerequisite for sex when it came to her she liked substance to fill the great outer shell, even if it was just a one time thing. So, Marisa began, her smile calmer and friendlier now. I'd ask what I can do for you, but I think the real question is what you can do for me . I could start with formalities, the whole 'I'm Marisa, the new Women on Sex columnist, blah blah blah' thing, but we both know you already know who I am. I'd like to know who you are, and then maybe -- if you're lucky -- we can actually get to the sex part. She meant talking about sex, of course, but there was no harm in joking around, was there?