Official and Proper Legal Disclaimer Thingy: The characters of Duncan McLeod, Immortal Boy Scout, and Joseph Dawson, Sexy Blues Singer Extroardinaire, belong to Davis/Panzer productions. They also own the whole Highlander concept thingamajig. All rights therein belong to them, not me. The character of Emillya Sorovkin is mine, all mine. She belongs to me, its all my fault, blame me. No one anywhere anyhow has received any monetary compensation for any part of the following, and never will. No Highlander clones were harmed in the making of this tale; the Joe clone was returned to Clones R Us the following day, a little worse for the wear, but on time. The author will pay for the dry cleaning, though.
***
Joe leaned back from the computer with a bone popping stretch. He thought to himself that he was getting too old for this. He watched with quiet appreciation as a shy librarian researcher type walked up to him, and decided he wasn’t old, just tired. She was a small woman, barely coming up to his shoulder. She wore her long curly brown hair in a thick neat braid, and silver wire rimmed spectacles. He smiled up at her,
“All finished, Mr. Dawson?”
“Yeah, but call me Joe.” He started picking up the books he’d used and loading them on her cart. “You look familiar, have we met?”
She nodded shyly. “At the reception for the retreat last March, I’m Emillya Sorovkin.” She handed him a manila envelope for the pages spewing from the printer and finished gathering up the books scattered about the computer table.
“That’s right. Ancient Cyrillic languages. I enjoyed your presentation. “ He’d enjoyed flirting with her over the dinner table, too; but she’d suddenly turned shyer and excused herself early. He dropped the envelope in his briefcase and stretched, groaning as stiff joints and muscles popped. “I think I sat too long.” He added as he stood.
She smiled up at him, her blue eyes shy. Um, I could maybe give you a backrub if you wanted one."
“I’d probably fall asleep on you.” He said ruefully.
“Wouldn’t be the first time that happened.” Her smile was quick and self-deprecating. “Maybe some other time.” She said, turning away as a blush crept along her cheekbones.
Joe realized suddenly that she’d been making a pass at him in her quiet way. And he’d fumbled at the five-yard line. He reached for her hand as she turned. It was enveloped in his. His thumb gently caressed her wrist over her tattoo, feeling the pulse there speed up.
“I wasn’t saying no, Emillya”
“Oh.” She said, refusing to meet his eyes. She flushed, unsure of how to go on. Obviously she was unused to this. He found it intoxicating.
“I have an appointment. Do you want to meet for dinner later?”
“Sure.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He named a time and a place and gently kissed her cheek.
***