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No Part 19. Blame work, and having too many birthdays clustered in November. On a personal note, being actually diagnosed with Chronic Migraine today, didn't exactly inspire my creative juices, hence the 'short' piece. *pokes Mikey* Damn you, and your sexual tensions!"Hmmm, coffee and ice cream. How can I resist?"
"You can't, Paw, so don't try." He wheeled the trolley in through the open door, before she had time to refuse, and settled it next to the settee in her sitting room. It was almost as lumpy as the one in his own quarters, but he wasn't all that fussed. If he had to choose, it'd be lumpy shit coloured sofa, over cold stone matress, ever time.
"You still takin' sugar, Honey?" he called out. Paula was lingering over by the door. Had she locked it? He couldn't quite tell from where he sat, perched on the edge of the sofa from Hell, spoon hovering over her waiting cup. When she eventually did come back in, taking a space at the opposite end of the lounger, she was biting her nails. A most un-Paula like gesture, as Mikey understood it she did the manicure thing weekly.
She lifted her head, almost as if trying not to see him, and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, right," she hastily threw down the tell tale digits, capturing them between her nervously clenched knees. The reflex seemed to awaken her from whatever reverie she'd been caught up in. "Yeah. Please. Yes, please."
Mikey almost chuckled.
Why, Paula, dear, are you squirming? Ice Queen playing the modesty card?
He was amused, and yet, somehow terrified, and angry. How could she even...? He struggled with his thoughts, confusion, although never missing a beat as he stirred the coffee, and served up the not quite solid dessert.
Play it cool, Mike.
But I don't want...I just need some company, godamnit!
Why did you come, Mikey? Be honest, now, you can't lie, not to yourself.
She likes coffee and ice cream. I need someone to talk to.
That's it? Just talk?
The mug wavered somewhat on its way to her waiting hands. Slender, and pale, and bare. No rings, bracelets, or even a watch, just delicate snow like skin, the feintest blue rivulets lacing their way just beneath the surface.
It's not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.- Frank N. Furter.