L-Noir – Part 3

The woman that opened the door had long red hair, a long body, and long legs that just wouldn’t quit. Al couldn’t help but admit to a bit of longing herself, as she took in the sight of her would-be partner. For the job, partner just for the job, she insisted to herself. With a little cough, Al stuck out her hand and introduced herself. "I’m Al Pieszecki, a friend of Tina Kennard’s."

A long arm that tapered to long fingers snaked out and she shook Al’s hand firmly. "I’m Nick. Tina just called and said you want to talk to me?" she finished with a querying tone.

Al finally remembered to let go of the hand in hers and grunted, "Yeah." After a pause, she continued, "I mean, if that’s okay." To herself, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. She’s just a woman, she repeated in her mind. Just a woman who puts on her pants one leg at a time, just like the rest… She found could not finish the thought because she was suddenly too distracted at the picture of long naked legs to think straight. Mentally shaking herself, she nodded vaguely as the woman invited her in, stepping through the doorway with eagerness.

Standing awkwardly, her thumbs hitched in the back pockets of her Levi’s, Al tried to think of something to say that would not sound completely inane. She failed and opened with, "So, you’re from New York?"

Nick spoke as she led Al into the small living room. "Actually, I’m from New Jersey, but I lived in Brooklyn while I finished film school at NYU." She gracefully gestured for Al to sit on the couch and herself took the chair opposite. "And you?" she asked, politely.

"L.A. born and bred," Al stated flatly, refusing to let on whether she was proud or embarrassed of that fact. She removed her jacket and laid it on the cushion beside her. She looked around and noted that the apartment was furnished inexpensively, but comfortably. "Definitely a girl’s pad, though," she thought to herself. Not at all like her own spartan digs.

Nick waited for her guest to get to the point. Though she had worked hard to refine herself, she still had enough New Jersey in her to prefer plain talk to small talk. She sat back and simply looked at the woman across from her, taking in the details and trying to get a feel for this friend of her boss’s. The blond hair was shoulder length, well cared for in a simple style. The boots were tough-looking, but somehow did not evoke chains and knives. The jeans fit well, tight in just the right places. The white t-shirt revealed muscular arms, toned abs, a generous chest. The face was cute underneath the practiced scowl, she decided.