ARCHITECTURAL LINES
"Nice lines," John grinned at the woman beside him, surveying the oval face, trim waist, shapely legs, well manicured nails. Then catching the almost imperceptible stiffening, he quickly added, "Your blueprint." John nodded toward the plan unrolled before her. "Yours?"
Not a bad angle, smiled Susan inwardly. But not original.
"Mine, yes," she replied.
She returned his smile then his gambit with, "nice lines too."
Susan momentarily relished the man's discomfort before asking, "Yours?" and nodding toward a similar draft in John's hands.
Nice hands, Susan noted. And nice lines yourself, she reflected, inventorying the square shoulders, solid chest, muscular thighs, neatly manicured nails.
"Yes, mine," answered John, a little flustered by her directness, the speed of her volley.
She'd gained the upper hand so quickly.
"Who are you with?" Susan inquired.
An admittedly boring, but trusted and true invitation to conversation, thought Susan.
"I freelance. John Smith - Architecture for the Future. My card," he added, reaching out to shake her hand.
Returning the gesture, Susan is pleasantly surprised by the firm but gentle grip. Nice. Very nice.
"Susan Quince. I envy you, someday I'd like to freelance. I'm with Docket, Docket and Docket."
Um, nice eyes. Blue as the ocean, Susan noted as she passed him her own card, relishing the ease with which two people could exchange phone numbers in the business world.
"Oh, sometimes I miss the security and camaraderie of a large office," said John. "And I resent the time it takes to market my work. I'm an architect, not a salesman. Well you would know that, Susan."
Man,her eyes are as green as a tiger's. He let his mind explore the tiger metaphor until Susan's voice brought him back.
"Well I still have to promote my work, too, John. But of course it's internal promotion rather than external.What is this you're working on?"
Camaraderie? Well, Susan smiled inwardly, I'd be happy to provide a little camaderie for you.
"I'm meeting with Jake Mandrake. This is a proposed prototype for the civil liberties building on campus. The fallout from this contract could be worth weeks of marketing efforts."
Did she just pale a little? he wondered.
No! It can't be true, thought Susan. Damn. . . Damn, damn, damn, double damn. Why does there have to be something every time I meet someone interesting?
"I'm meeting with Jenny Mandrake. Same reason," she said, gaging his reaction.
She didn't bother to add that this contract could clinch her partnership bid at Docket.
As each pair of eyes uncomfortably slid away from the other, silence smothered the previously friendly banter.
The hand that had so warmly shaken Susan's only minutes before fell to John's lap, re-creasing perfectly creased slacks.
The hand that had eagerly offered the business card fell too, brushing away from Susan's skirt a bit of nonexistent lint.
The receptionist's voice released the pair.
"Ms. Quince. Ms. Mandrake will see you now. Please follow me."
"Thank you," Susan replied, rising and, turning toward John, "Well, good luck to us both, then," she said. "It was nice meeting you." Susan smiled hesitantly.
Another time, another place, she reflected sadly.
"Yes, to us both. And it was nice meeting you too Ms. Quince," John replied.
In an ideal world, he mused, in an ideal world.
The formality of his address was not lost of Susan.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and joined the waiting receptionist. John dejectedly watched the two women disappear down the oak-panelled corridor.
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Created by
Shirley Collingridge, Wordsmith
collingridge@sasktel.net