I must’ve
stood in front of Nixie’s doorstep with my tongue lolling like a dog’s for
fifteen minutes. Fifteen fucking minutes; can you believe that?

“Hey
Mike!” Nixie says flashing a smile that could melt the polar icecaps.

“Seriously
Nixie, how do you expect me not to rip your clothes off like a boy opening a Christmas
present when you…” I decided not to finish the sentence and opted to smile like
an idiot instead.

“…look so
damn hot?” She offered.

She was
wearing a pink miniskirt and some sort of silky baby blue blouse with one of
those stylish fabric belts. Even her raven black hair is styled differently,
parted and pulled back neatly with a ponytail allowing her pretty face to stand
out. She’s wearing wedges. The truth was, I was about to ask her ‘How do you expect me not to fall for you
when you look like a different gorgeous girl every time I meet up with you?’ but
I decided at the last second that she might interpret that to mean that I’m
fantasizing about different girls instead of what I really meant – That she
abso-fucking-lutely looks lovely every time I see her.

“You read
minds now too huh? Tell me something you can’t do.” I said feeling lousy with
my rolled up long sleeved button down, black slacks and grimy shoes.

“Well come
on in!” She said taking in what I was wearing. Shit.

“Nixie, I
was meaning to ask you; I mean, I’m not the type of guy who normally goes nuts
over perfume, but I can’t resist the one you’re wearing now. What’s it called?”
I ask stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She turns
to face me after turning on the stereo. Alicia Keys’ sang ‘If I aint got you’
on cue “I’m not wearing any.” She smiles teasingly. “Maybe you should just come
to terms with the fact that what you can’t resist is me.” My heart skipped a beat.