Dindi

Hello, again!

So, here's a new one; but before you start I must warn you:

1. Once again, English is not my first language so you might find some mistakes. I'm sorry for that.

2. I'm sure that for some people my female characters are a bit too emotionally independent. I was raised by a feminist. So, if you want a heroine that will orbit around her man, sorry. Won't find it here. My last story was bit mellow, this one is meant to be more serious, but with some romance too, and sex obviously (though not yet).

3. I'm going a little deeper with my characters here, so I don't know where this is going. It won't be very, very long, but I also can't say where my moods (and my time) will take me.

4.I hope I haven't dissuaded anyone from reading it. I don't think this is for everyone. Some people might think it slow. So bear it with me, please.

Enjoy it!

And, if you hate it or if you love, I want to know about it!

XOXO.

Nana.

*****

MORENA

The phone was ringing. George's ringtone sound waves floated around his flat. I really loved him. He was my best friend. But I really didn't want to pick it up. Whatever reason he had to be calling me tonight at this hour, I was sure I wouldn't like it.

"George," I said when I answered, "Please tell me you're not calling me to say I'll be required to leave the comfort of your sofa. Please?

He kept trying to make go to parties filled with people I didn't like. So I figured he could only be calling me for two reasons (since he knew well enough how much I loved having friday nights to myself):

One: There was this party he wanted me to go to.

Two: He needed a favor.

"Mo." I could tell option two was the right one by the tone of his voice. "I need you to save my life."

Yes. Option two alright.

"Yes?" I asked, trying my very best not to let my annoyance seep through the phone and reach him.

He sighed loudly. I could hear dozens of busy voices in the background.

"I forgot one of my chests, and I really need it and-"

"And you were wondering If I may be so kind and bring it to you?" I completed his request for him.

He let out another sigh.

"Could you? Oh, Mo, I'm so sorry. I know how you love your old lady friday nights, but I wouldn't dare ask you if I didn't really need it." Gee's voice was full of apologies.

I suddenly felt terribly mean.

"Oh, Gee, don't be ridiculous. Of course I can do this for you." I managed to sound completely casual, even joyful when I spoke. "Where is it?"

"My room. Top shelf. It's a big black chest. Hard to miss."

I was already walking to his room.

"I see it." I said, pulling a chair to stand on so I could reach the damn chest. "I'll be there as quick as I can." I mentally cursed him for being so tall, and myself for being so short.

"Take a cab! I'll pay!" George said quickly.

"I was leaning more towards the subway, but alright, George." I loved the subway and he knew it, but he had this protective big brother switch on. And he said the subway was home for perverts.

I heard him blow a breath of dismissal to my preferences in transportation.

"Call me when you're near."

"Ok."

"Love you, Mo."

"Love you too, Gee." And I hang up.

Sometimes George could be a pain, just like any other little brother can be, I suppose. We had been best friends for over twenty years.

We were nine years old when George and his mother moved in next door to my mom and I in our little neighborhood in Ipswich. My father had just died three months before. All the boys in our neighborhood teased him and ran after him yelling 'fag' until he'd climb up the highest tree he could find. The stupid boys would be barking at him like he was a cat hiding up a tree.

He walked around wearing his mother's eyeliner and looked like a miniature of Boy George. I was this little skinny girl with big, voluminous hair. The difference between us was that the boys knew better than to mess with me. The only few times they'd tried I'd punched one of them, kicked the other and made a third one cry by telling him the kind of mean things only children can. So one day I decided to help George by going to his tree holding a heavy tree branch which I threatened to use to bash the boys's heads in if they didn't leave George alone.

From that day on we were inseparable. Our mothers quickly became friends too, and soon enough we were spending holidays together and being more of a family than most people who share the same DNA.

When the time came, I went to college and George moved to New York to pursue his dream of becoming a makeup artist. His leap of faith paid out, just as I knew it would.

Now, thirteen years after he moved here, he was a partner at this big successful beauty salon, and every year he was one of the makeup artists summoned for the New York Fashion Week. Which was where I was headed to now. To take him his damn makeup chest he had forgotten.

I didn't plan on staying, and even if I were, nobody would notice little me among all those inhumanly beautiful models. So I didn't bother changing clothes. My stay-on-the-couch-on-friday-night's t-shirt dress would have to do it. I found my flip flops, my shoulder bag and left, locking Gee's apartment door behind me.

Out in the street the weather was wonderful. It was the middle of the summer and the air of the night was begging me to walk all the way from SoHo to the Lincoln Center, but George was in a hurry and he would throw a fit if he knew I was walking the streets at night, alone, and wearing such a flimsy excuse for clothes. So I summoned the taxi he absolutely was going to pay for.

"The Lincoln Center, please. As fast as you can, sir. It' an emergency." I lied -horribly- to the cabbie.

The man grunted and then turned his attention fully to his driving.

New York was fantastic. I loved the city. It was so full of all kinds of people and there was so much culture and places to go, things to see, food to eat, but I had so little time to myself.

I had been postponing taking a break from work and studying since forever. I had just finished getting a PhD degree in Art History, when my professor in London found me a teaching position in NY, I didn't think twice before taking it.

So, three months ago I left home and moved to NY, in with George at his insistence, until I could get a place of my own. I taught eight hours a day everyday of the week. Friday nights were reserved for me. For reading, HBO series binge-watching, sleeping, and just being home doing nothing.

George was always at a party, or out on a date with some handsome bloke, or doing anything that required him leaving the apartment. We spent all the time we could together, but George knew me as well as anyone ever would. He knew I always needed this time that was only mine, and he selflessly gave it to me every friday night. Therefore, I was sure he genuinely felt very guilty calling me to ask for this favor on my Friday night. I was determined to be nice and not be such a cranky bitch, since he was the one saving my life by letting me stay at his apartment for three whole months while putting up with my temper.

I texted him when the car drove by Hell's Kitchen.

Be there in five.

When the cab stopped on the sidewalk by the Lincoln Center, Gee sprang to his feet from where he'd been sitting on the steps of the stairs and opened the door for me.

"Thank fuck you're here!" He uttered in greeting as he helped me out of the cab and hugged me quickly.

He paid the cabbie and was dragging me up the stairs before I could say I didn't mean to stay. I figured I could endure staying and looking at half naked male models for about fifteen minutes before telling Gee I had to go without him making me feel like I was a bad friend for not staying more.

The Lincoln Center was one of the first places Gee had taken me to visit when I first arrived in NY. I loved that fountain in the center of the square. At night it was even better, with the lights illuminating it and the water making it look ethereal and unreal as if by stepping inside you could be transported to another world.

But George would not stop, not even for me to catch a breath. We entered the building to our left and I had to force my legs to walk to the pace of his long ones, and as a result I was almost running.

"Slow down, will you?" I pulled his hand and he turned to look at me, wide eyed as if suddenly remembering I was there too.

He turned and pressed a button to summon the lift, then he turned his face to me again and engulfed me in a bear hug.

"I'm sorry, Mo! I have this girl with half her hair undone waiting for me!"

George was awfully tall. 6' tall, when I was 5'3'', so whenever he hugged me I disappeared inside his big arms. He pulled away and looked at me with those puppy dog hazel eyes of his.

"Are you mad I interrupted your old lady night?" He asked, expressing real concern over me being mad at him, but teasing me at the same time.

He was always saying I was an 80 year old grandma trapped in a 30 year old's body.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Noooo." I was a shitty liar. But then again I wasn't mad. Just annoyed.

"Right."

The elevator arrived and we stepped in.

Inside Gee eyed me head to toe not hiding his disapproval.

"You couldn't bother to change, dear?"

He picked the sleeve of my mauve t-shirt dress between his thumb and his index finger and let it go as if he were holding a frog.

I looked down at myself. The dress stopped mid thighs and there was a little hole in the hem. I loved that old piece of rag.

I shrugged.

"None of this pretty people will notice me. I'm too little and obscure to be noticed by them. And besides," I added quickly when George's mouth opened to protest. "I won't stay long."

G opened his mouth again and I held a hand up to him.

I couldn't let him turn that into a discussion. He always won those and I just didn't want to stay because after this there would be a fucking party full of models and fashion people and I shuddered just thinking about it.

"I will stay awhile. Half an hour. No more." I hoped he settled for that.

Gee raised his copper eyebrows and then lowered them again. He pouted like a child and I laughed. We were so very different from each other. His hair was fiery red and wavy, where mine was black and curly. He was tall, I was short. He loved fashion and parties, I loved museums and books. His skin was pale and freckled, and mine was milk chocolate brown with hints of gold.

"Why are you looking at me funny? Did you finally found out you've always been secretly in love with me?" Gee asked, smiling despite trying not to.

I laughed even more and faked a disgusted face.

The elevator's doors opened and Gee threw an arm over my shoulder as we walked out.

"Eww. I would never. Imagine our children! I would never dilute your genes. The world needs more gingers." I joked walking alongside him through the elevator's hall.

The scene that opened itself before me when we turned a left was pure chaos. There were people running everywhere. Half naked models, and fully dressed nervous people running back and forth with loads and more loads of clothes in their arms. Everywhere you looked you saw the most exotic and beautiful people, men and women, trying on all kinds of weird, colorful clothes, fashion assistants yelling at each other, cameras flashing...It all made me dizzy.

Gee lead me to a wall lined with mirrors and about twenty people were working their brushes on some models face. The makeup station reserved for him was at the far corner of the wall, the last chair to the right, where a tall black girl was sitting and waiting, looking at her phone when we arrived.

"Sorry, my dear. I just needed to get this!" Gee set his big makeup chest on his station and apologized to the girl who smiled at him and waved her hand dismissively. "This is my sister, Morena."

I stepped forward and said "Hello" to the girl who couldn't hide her surprise when she saw me.

Gee always told people I was his sister. Of course people knew I couldn't be once they saw me, but most of them didn't have the guts to actually ask any of us whether I really was. Usually I didn't explain the situation to anyone. For all intents and purposes I was his sister. We just didn't share the same DNA, but he was my little brother. Six months younger.

"We grew up together." I told the girl, deciding I liked her. "We've been best friends forever." I smiled affectionately at Gee and he back at me.

Since his station was the last one on a long line of makeup artists, there was a little space where I could sit by the edge of it. I sat, with my back pressed to the cold mirror and my feet dangling in the air while I watched Gee work his magic on the girl's face and hair.

She was absolutely stunning. A mix of african, indian and something else I couldn't put my finger on. I wondered to myself where they found such gorgeous, exotic looking people. Not that the girl needed Gee to make her pretty, but he was a genius with his makeup brushes and palettes. I would know, being his subject for most of our teen years.

During the week Gee and I made a point of spending as much time as we could together. We had all meals together. Breakfast at home, lunch at some restaurant midway between his work and mine, and we always had dinner at home or at the chinese place by the corner. Weekends were the only time we didn't spend together. Saturday mornings I'd be home sleeping in, and he'd be going to bed in some bloke's apartment after parting late. Sundays were strictly reserved for his hangovers and whatever paper or research I'd have to work on for class next day. Still we had lots to talk about whenever we were together. He was the one person I could talk to about anything.

The girl had left and now he was applying concealer to the face of a man so handsome I couldn't stop staring at him and thinking 'when did men evolve to be so damn good looking?' when George shifted the conversation to his favourite topic.

"When are you going to get yourself a man, Morena?"

The Adonis on Gee's chair couldn't stop his lips from quirking up into an amused smile. Who could blame him, he didn't ask to hear such stupid conversation.

"George!" I scolded him.

"What?" He stopped with a hand on his hip and the other holding a contouring brush. "Look, Mo, you're super smart, you're sexy, you're beautiful, you're-"

"Oooh! Perfect me!" I said with a mocking tone.

"Really, Mo?" Now Gee assumed that attitude he always did when he thought I was diminishing myself, which I personally don't think I've ever done.

"George, please don't start. My self esteem is great." And it really was. I didn't think there was anything wrong with me. I didn't feel like changing anything, I didn't compare myself to anyone and though myself inferior. Not even here, surrounded by gorgeous, tall and perfect women. I liked who I was. Most importantly I accepted who I was and loved the body I lived in. I loved my curly, wild hair, loved that I was little, but had my own grace, and I thought I was doing pretty fine as a human being too. "I'm just not looking for anyone right now. I'm fine. I don't need a man."

Gee scoffed.

"You might not need a man, but you need sex. You're grumpier by the day."

This time the handsome model laughed shyly, but audibly. I darted him an incredulous look, but then laughed too. It was more a bitter laugh than anything else. Gee was right. I really needed sex. I've been the only one giving me orgasms for a while now.

"I'm just saying," Gee went on. "You're too great a woman to still be single. And I know for a fact you've had your fair share of admirers. You're just too picky."

"What?" I croaked.

"It's either that or you're gay too." He said, then he stopped what he was doing in the man's face and turned to me. "Are you?" He asked with seriousness.

I gaped at him and laughed a real laugh this time.

"No, George. I'm not gay. I just-" I said in an annoyed exhale, not sure of how I could explain myself. "I couldn't bear to be someone's passing fancy, to be used for some man's pleasure and then discarded, you see? I'm past my twenties already. I'm not saying I want a Disney Prince, you know I'm not a great romantic, but even if it's just sex, I need to be wanted, really wanted, not just have my body lusted after. Do you understand?"

Actually, what I wanted was a man that could make me want him madly, and who could give me orgasms, for fuck's sake. I wasn't picky, but I also wasn't about to go around shagging anyone. The problem was, I hardly met a man who I genuinely felt attracted to.

Gee sighed, defeated. "Yes. I understand you. I just worry about you, Mo. That's all."

It bothered me to my bones that Gee would worry so much over the fact I was single. Actually everybody just worried too much about it. My mother's theories included homosexuality or a secret love for George, when the truth was I just didn't want to give myself to any prick who could get his hands on me.

"I'm fine, Gee." That's was my line that said 'This conversation is over'.

Gee didn't have anything to say after that and an awkward silence settled in. So when I saw a window of opportunity to go I told Gee I was sleepy and was going back home.

"When will you be back? Tomorrow or Sunday?" I asked, just so I knew not to worry about him.

"Not sure, yet. I'll text you." He replied, not taking his concentrated eyes from his work on the Adonis looking model.

I jumped to the ground and smoothed the fabric of my dress over my ass. I hugged and kissed Gee goodbye and made my way to the elevator's hall.

A little voice in the back of my mind knew George was right. I was 32 years old and I've only had one serious boyfriend my whole life and that had been seven years ago. As bad an experience as that had been, I've had enough time to heal, but my walls were still up. And so far no one willing to climb it had come along.

I had just pressed the button to call the lift when I heard a voice call.

"Hey!"

I turned to my left and a bright, flashing light blinded me.

"What the bloody-" And the light flashed again.

I turned my back to it and rubbed my eyes, the white light still flashing strongly behind my closed eyelids. There was another click behind my back.

Was that the click and flashing of a camera? Had some prick just taken my picture?

I tried opening my eyes and I saw nothing but white light.

On my back I felt the soft warmth of someone else's body close to mine. I could swear I almost felt a touch in my hair.

"I'm so sorry." A masculine voice said behind me, close enough that I could feel the man's breath on my shoulder.

I turned and stepped back, away from him. I opened my eyes and panicked because I still couldn't see a thing.

"God, I'm really sorry. I couldn't resist it." The way he spoke made me think he really was sorry.

Deprived of vision, my ears were super alert and I registered somewhere in the back of my mind how grave and sexy the man's voice was. I berated myself at the thought.

The man almost blinds you and you're thinking he sounds sexy!

Once again, I rubbed my eyes, and tried opening them. I could see something now. I blinked several times.

His chest. His broad chest.

I looked up, really very upwards, until my neck hurt.

Gradually my vision was getting better.

His smile was the first thing I saw clearly. Perfectly white and straight teeth with large and thin masculine lips curved over them. He was smiling widely down at me.

Why is he smiling at me like that?

He had a beard, just a tad blonder than his hair which was long, I guessed, considering he had one of those man buns I thought were so ridiculous. I moved my eyes up, going over a straight aristocratic nose and I met the most striking pair of blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, their corners wrinkled, affected by his smile.