A Chance MeetingMature

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

 

The noise of my alarm clock filled the air and I, in a complete frenzy, hurried to shut it off. My body ached. Shift changes were always the worst on me. All of the other technicians promised me that I would become used to them by the end of year one, yet here I was, in the middle of year three, trying to scrape my body out of my queen sized bed.

 

Once out, I stood there debating whether to straighten and make up my comforter and sheets or not. My maman made me do it every single morning.  Part of me wanting to mockingly wanted to just go about my morning routine but instead, I made the sheets straight, fluffed my pillows and folded my comforter, placing it at the foot of my bed.

 

So much for rebellion, I thought as I opened the balcony door, letting the early morning light shine in and further wake me. I stood in the strong light until I heard a knock at my slightly cracked door.

 

Rory was standing in the doorway in his boxers when I turned around.

 

“Geez, could you put some clothes on?” I laughed.

 

Rory, mockingly, started to caress his body.

 

“Aw you don’t like what you see?”

 

I chuckled as he made a little show, awkwardly shaking his hips. Rory was a chubby fellow and not exceptionally tall. His five foot eight frame consisted of shoulder length red hair, paired with a voluminous beard and bright blue eyes tucked away behind wire-rimmed glasses.

 

Anyone who wasn’t familiar would initially think Rory and I have a thing and truthfully we did, and it was great, but thankfully we realized early on that it was going to end in a toxic waste if we let it go on. It put both of our respective infatuations that lasted most of our high school careers to rest. Thus, we are roommates and we mesh astonishingly well despite our marvelous sexual encounters.

 

“Thanks for making sure I was awake, Rory,” I said while beginning to search through my closet for matching scrubs. I settled on the black top with pink and white polka dots and black pants.

 

“My pleasure dear,” he replied while moving aside. I passed him and bee-lined for the bathroom. Mornings are the worst for me and a steamy hot shower always managed to perk me up.

 

 Upon closing the door, I peered into the mirror at myself. The bags under my eyes were hideous. My kinky, curly hair was still pinned up in a bun from the night before. If I dared to take it down I would have to force myself to start wash day. I definitely did not have the energy for that. Instead I began running the hot water and undress. My body was nothing special, at least to me. Rory always told me that I had the best curves he’d ever seen but as a woman, I feel obligated to second guess myself. Removing my bra I watched the way my breasts bounced out like huge, double d drops of milk chocolate. I starred, searching for something to criticize. My five foot seven body was nothing special and neither was the one hundred and sixty eight pounds it packed in my butt and breasts. Leaning closer into the mirror, I studied my face. If there was one thing I enjoyed about myself it was my skin tone, a light, almost airy brown that resembled fresh caramel topping. My face was lucky enough to be adorned by freckles across my cheekbones. I say lucky because no one knows where they came from.

 

Stepping into the shower, the hot water pierced my skin. I moaned, welcoming the sensation. My hands traveled over my body, ensuring every inch was wet before scrubbing clean with heavenly vanilla scented soap. Closing my eyes, the familiar desire to feel another set of hand came about me. I sighed heavily, understanding the harsh reality that it most likely wouldn’t happen. I just wasn’t the dating kind and even when I was the subject of flirting by a decent looking guy, I was completely and utterly oblivious to it.

 

I shut off the water and stepped out while opening the door. I stood there naked letting the cooler air of the apartment dissipate the steam. Just then Rory walked by and openly ogled my goodies. I could see the lump in his boxers begin to stir.

 

“Why did we stop having sex?”

 

I wasn’t at all shocked by the question. Our sex was great and there was still a mutual attraction between us.

 

“Because,” I replied while wrapping myself in my lilac cotton towel, “we both know we can’t fuck casually.”

 

“Well,” he said while walking back into the front of our apartment to his bedroom, “I guess and early morning masturbation session is in order. Thanks a lot Mar.”

 

I shrugged laughing as he closed his door and began making over exaggerated moans. I dressed quickly enough to be able to grab a bowl of cereal before having to walk to work. On rushed mornings like this, I was glad I decided to live in Central West End. Just a few blocks and I was at Barnes-Jewish Hospital. On days that Rory had class at Forest Park, we would walk together to the Metro hub and part ways, me walking up the three flights of stairs to the back of the hospital and him boarding the 59 Dogtown bus. Life here was simple; my car rarely was used except for errands and trips out of the area.

 

“Hi Margo!”

 

My chipper co-phlebotomist Isla greeted me as I walked into the lab. I took my usual stool next to hers and began eyeballing the dry erase board that listed all of the patients needing draws all over the hospital. My area of concentration today was the Siteman Cancer Center. Most of us dreaded working the Cancer Center. It’s so depressing seeing people hooked up to chemotherapy machines and having to cause them more pain with each poke.

 

“You look like hell,” Isla said while getting a list of the names she was going to poke.

 

I followed suit while replying, “I hate shift changes. I never get any sleep.”

 

Hours passed without any kind of incident. I made chit chat with patients, most of them already knowing the draw procedure. Towards the end of the first half of my shift I received a page of my hospital beeper. Working in Siteman I usually didn’t received any kind of emergency page since everything happens according to schedule a majority of the time. I looked down at my pager and saw the room number to the radiology lab inside Washington University. Since I had already finished my given list, I trekked across campus into Wash U.

 

I couldn’t believe who I saw waiting in the draw chair, sleeve rolled to the elbow, ready to be pricked.

 

My heart began to race as I tried to calmly stroll over the instrument stand and set my tray full of alcohol swabs, cotton balls, band aids, various blood collectors and sticks, a few stress balls and even a variety of stickers for the younger crowd. I set my supply tote down with a clap.

 

“Well imagine that,” he said in shock. I lifted my head up to find a cocky smile on his face. I wanted to slap it off. I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to punch it to a bloody pulp.

 

“Roman.” He didn’t deserve a hello. I’m surprised I even decided to acknowledge his existence. “Make a fist please,” I said bluntly while donning my latex gloves and tearing open the alcohol swab.

 

“Don’t hurt me please,” he chuckled.

 

He had the nerve to chuckle!

 

I want nothing more than to stab his face with my tiny needle and listen to him cry. But instead, I pushed my stick into the large blue vein, admittedly a little too forcibly, and collected three tubes of ruby red blood. Pressing a cotton ball against the stick site, again somewhat harder that I should, I pocketed the acquired blood and dully told him to hold it there and apply pressure. I gathered my things.

 

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?”

 

I glanced at him annoyingly.

 

“The fact you expected me to really shows what kind of person you are Roman.”

 

I turned on my heel and hurried down the corridor and into the elevator. Once dropping the samples off in the lab, I shook my head in effort to clear my mind of what just happened like an Etch-A-Sketch.

 

Slowly I meandered my way to the cafeteria for my lunch hour. Making my way through the line, tossing a cheeseburger and fries into the styrofoam compartmentalize tray, I felt a little more calm. I sat at my usual table on the far end of the room, away from the bustling of the lines and entrances.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

 

I snapped my head up and glared at Roman who was making himself comfortable across from me.

 

“I hope you don’t mind if—.”

 

“I do actually,” I snarled. “I do not wish to have you as company.”

 

He seemed hurt and for an instant, I felt bad.

 

“Margo, please, can we just talk?”

I dipped a fry into ketchup and took a bit.

 

“What exactly is there to talk about?”

 

Without missing a beat, he launched into rhetoric.

 

“I’ve been rehearsing this in my head since I last talked to you. Can you believe it’s been four years?” I grunted in response while dipping another fry. “Well, I wanted to say how sorry I am, for what happened. I’ve regretted it every single second that has passed. And well…well, I just wanted to tell you that I suppose…it was much more eloquent in my mind,” he sighed.

 

I sighed heavily and eyed him.

 

“Roman why are you here?” There was something that was missing.

 

“I just told you. I wanted to apolo--.”

 

“That’s not what I mean. What are you doing here, at the hospital?”

 

The look in his eyes suggested that maybe he forgot he was at BJC, or maybe that he was trying to ignore the fact.

 

“Funny thing actually,” he started, pausing to take a fry off of my tray. “I have leukemia.”

 

I placed my feet firmly on my ground and rose from my seat. I didn’t want to hear it.

 

“Where are you going Marguerite?!” he yelled after me. I basically ran my way back to the lab. Thankfully it was empty for the time being. I slumped over in my stool and laid my head down on the table, closing my eyes.

 

“Maman, can I please have a camera for my birthday?”

 

My mother looked at suspiciously. “For what ma fille?”

 

Looking at my feet I answered, “I’m interested in pursuing photography and maybe modeling…everyone tells me I’m pretty enough…”

 

Maman exhaled loudly. “I’ll think about it Marguerite.”

 

That was good enough for me. I was already giddy. She had a week to make her decision and my mother always wanted to spoil me, especially when my grades were up.

 

Sure enough, at my nineteen birthday dinner, I unwrapped a GE X2600. I immediately kissed Maman and Mére on their cheeks, hurriedly finished dinner and ran outside. I walked around my Saint Ann neighborhood and took pictures of everything. Stray cats, garbage cans, flowers, autumn leaves. I eventually made it to Lambert Airport, where I stood and watched the planes take off, my camera clicking away.

 

Once home, I signed into my DeviantArt account and began uploading what I considered the best photos from my walk. I made my favorite photo my profile picture; in it I’m standing in front one of the many windows watching a plane take off into the night sky, my reflection was captured, grinning gently. Within minutes I received a note.

 

wiryphotonomad:

Hi, welcome to DA. You’re photos are very nice. I can’t help but notice your reflection in one, you are very beautiful. Have you ever thought about modeling?

 

I giggled at the immediate praise.

 

MangoMar:

Thank you for the kind words. I have thought about it but I don’t ever think that it could happen. I’m not that confident to do something like that.

 

wiryphotonomad:

Who knows, you might be able to boost you confidence while also taking exquisite pictures. I think you should give it a try. Take a look at my gallery. I photograph and model in my pictures. It’s a lot of fun!

Oh, by the way, my name’s Roman.

 

I clicked his name and browsed around his gallery.

 

“Oh!” I squeaked in surprise.

 

He was naked in most of his photos. Shyly I looked through more and eventually got passed his nudity. The pictures were amazing. The composition, the lights and props. It was so intriguing.

 

MangoMar:

I took a gander at your stuff and well…I don’t think I’d take any photos like that anytime soon. But your work is astonishing. I just don’t know if I have the body such a thing.

P.S.

I’m Marguerite, but I like to go by Margo.

 

Within minutes this strange, naked man responded.

 

wiryphotonomad:

Haha, it’s okay. Well if you are interested in self-portraits, let me know. Maybe I can help you out sometime. Let me know if you need anything Beautiful. Hopefully I’ll see you around the world of DA.

 

I starred at that message. He called me beautiful. Only my Maman and Mére called me that. After a while, I stood from my computer desk and stripped my clothes off in front of the mirror, leaving my panties and bra on.

 

Maybe I could give this a shot.

 

I mounted the camera on my tripod and stood, gazing out my window facing I-70.

 

The timer ticked on my new camera and soon the flash went off. Slightly embarrassed, I checked the photo.

 

Not half bad.

 

Soon after I logged back onto DA and uploaded the photo to my scraps folder. A few minutes went by before I saw a new note.

 

wiryphotonomad:

That is gorgeous! You look absolutely amazing!

 

I laughed.

 

MangoMar:

If you say so. I’m so red right now lol. At least I tried.

 

wiryphotonomad:

Don’t stop there. I think you should do more. Here, I have a bunch of ideas if you want to keep going. With your body type, you should try out these poses. You can leave you panties on if you feel comfortable but I think you should take your bra off so the real contours of your body can show. I’ll need you email address if you want to see them though.

 

I sent him my email and almost instantly my inbox showed one unread message. I flipped through the pictures labeled Ideas for Margo. I was stunned to see so many beautiful women with my body type. Maybe I could actually do this. I decided to imitate a particularly thick woman with long black hair. Her back was arched against a white wall, her breasts sticking out and head looking straight up.

 

I removed my bra and after a few tries, I finally snapped one that I deemed a success. I immediately uploaded it to my gallery.

 

wiryphotonomad:

See what did I tell you?! It’s gorgeous! How do you feel about it?

 

MangoMar:

I’m not entirely sure. I’m nervous that somebody will hate it…

 

wiryphotonomad:

I doubt anyone will. I’ve seen a lot of people doing nudes that shouldn’t be and you are definitely doing them right so far. Well like I said, I’m here for any kind of help or if you need feedback. Maybe this is the start of a wonderful partnership :)

 

MangoMar:

We’ll see lol. I should head off to bed. It’s pretty late here.

 

wiryphotonomad:

If you don’t mind me asking, where are you located? Maybe if you live near me, we could eventually set something up. I would love to photograph you.

 

My stomach dropped. I wasn’t sure about how I should answer him so instead of being specific, I gave him a very vague statement.

 

MangoMar:

I live in Missouri. I’d have to get to know you better before anything like that would happen.

 

wiryphotonomad:

That is perfectly understandable.

Oh really? I’m actually from North County, St. Louis. Although I am overseas right now teaching English in China.

 

We talked until three in the morning. We started off small with things like the weather and progressed to our interests and general things about ourselves. I talked about my college courses and he talked about the class he teaches and the Mandarin class he attends. I found out he’s twenty-five and loves experiencing different cultures and languages. Time didn’t seem like it moved until I looked down at the toolbar clock. 3:16 AM.

 

MangoMar:

I didn’t realize how late it is! I should probably go to bed. I have class at 10am. It’s super boring psychology 1. It’s already hard enough to stay awake in that class as it is.

 

wiryphotonomad:

Well I’ll be winding down around then. If you want you can message me on Yahoo, once you get out of class. I really like talking to you Beautiful.

 

Every time he called me some sort of pet name my heart skipped a beat.

 

MangoMar:

I think I will. I like talking to you too :)

 

wiryphotonomad:

Well good night Margo. Sleep well.

 

I collapsed on my bed, joy surging through my veins. He was just so nice. Boys my age weren’t that nice to me.

 

My eyelids slowly fell and before I realized, I was cuddled in my blankets, fast asleep.

The End

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