Indian Girlfriend

“She’d get it.” My fist curled as I noticed Francis’ fat face peering at my phone. “The blonde. Not your Semra… although you do have a hot wife.”“Monica has everything. Looks, intelligent but a cracking sense of humour.”“She looks like a cock jumper though.”“Well, she’s on husband number three.”Suddenly a job came in through the radio. I responded. Nothing too serious. My thoughts of Semra and her hot boss were put on hold. Apparently it was a woman with a nose bleed. She had told a policeman she misread a push door for a pull one. It happens.~It was now eleven o’clock. The night was in full swing. The police patrolled the old docklands which were now home to the clubs and bars while me and Francis stood outside the ambulance. My mind should have been on the job, or at least on Francis’ small talk. But I was constantly checking my mobile.My suspicions had been true. But I brought this on myself with past actions. Semra had informed me of her plans with Monica. That she was going to. My hand brushed against his as I took the pen, and I kept my face down to hide the blush that spread across my cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice, or was nice enough to keep his expression neutral. He took back the pen and printed out a receipt for my records, the ones I had been promising myself for weeks I would get organized. The guard put the deposits in his bag and turned to leave, but stopped before he reached the door. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘this is always my favorite stop to make.’ ‘Really?’ I asked, grasping at the beginnings of a real conversation with a man I had inappropriate fantasies about on a regular basis. ‘Why’s that?’ He turned, meeting my gaze for what felt like the first time. ‘It always smells so nice in here.’ He smiled, causing a dimple to form on his cheek. ‘My name is John by the way,’ he said, extending his hand to shake mine. A broad smile spread across my face. I was always happy to hear people liked my food, and complimenting the smell was just as.
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