(This is a continuation of Fire, to know the background of the characters, you should read that one first. Enjoy!)
I took a few days to get my life back together after the fire. My entire apartment reeked of dank and heavy smoke, but I was thankful that the fire had been contained on the bottom floors of the building. I kept the note with Casey's number on it in my pocket most days, fingering it until I was worried that the ink would fade away. I'm usually not nervous about calling a woman, but the experience had been so intense, so wonderful, so heady that I was afraid it was just our common reaction to the stress of the fire. When it came down to it, however, I was a woman of my word and I wanted to see her again. Even if it turned out we had nothing between us besides a few moments of passion, I had enough guts to find that out. So I called her.
"Hello?"
"Casey? Hey, it's Nina, the girl from the fire last week?"
"Nina. Wow, wasn't sure that you'd call, how are you? Your throat better?"
"Oh, yea, it's fine, barely hurts now….so, I was wondering if you wanted to do dinner or drinks sometime, I feel like I should thank you for taking such good care of me." I was hoping she'd catch the not so subtle double entendre.
"Dinner would be great. You have any place in mind?" Apparently she caught it; I could almost hear her grin.
We worked out the details, a cute little Thai place that was about midway between our apartments, 7pm with the possibility of ice cream afterwards. I was psyched.
The day of our dinner (date?) arrived and I experienced a slightly unusual occurrence. I had just showered and was standing naked in my room with my hair up in a towel wondering what to wear. I usually don't fall into the stereotypical trap of the female who can't find the perfect outfit, but I spent a good ten minutes staring into my closet debating between my khakis and a dress. Finally, I reasoned that if things got heated again, a dress would come off easier. I slid a summer dress over my head, shivering slightly as it slipped down over my sides. I've always been ticklish there.
We met promptly at 7; I've always appreciated people who can make it on time. She greeted me with a half hug and a kiss on the cheek and held the door for me on the way in. I appreciated the gesture, just as I appreciated the fact that she didn't hold my chair for me when I sat down. I like common courtesy, but am sensible enough to know I can scoot my chair in without help.
The conversation started innocuously enough, I learned that she was 25 and living with some other med students, although they never saw each other, which bothered her a little. She wanted to be a surgeon eventually and I noted to myself that she had the hands for it, graceful fingers with hidden strength. I managed not to blush with the memory of her fingers as the conversation turned to me. I talked about my graduate work in Women's Studies, how I worked at a rape crisis center and played soccer on the odd weekend. She was also athletic, although she had to quit her rugby team once she started med school. I guess that's where the strength came from. Again, I tried not to blush as I remembered her arm snug about my waist, but this time she caught me.
"What are you thinking?"
"Hmm?" I tried to play it cool, but she wasn't having it.
