Hot and Burning

[Nesrin Aziz]

He made her smile, and obviously she didn’t answer that question, because aside from anything she said incidentally revealing she had some familiarity with morning-after etiquette, it just wasn't that usual a response. The heady sparks of a one-night stand rarely translated to anything significant next-day, and most guys (or girls) only went through the motions, else there was a more clandestine reason for a swift exit, like a wedding ring. Unless Nesrin wanted something from them, she never minded those brief glimpses into another’s life, or the eventual parting. But then Eddie – in his posh suit, drinking alone at a prestige nightclub bar – wasn’t the usual sort she’d go for. Which was to say, he’d actually looked like a nice guy.

“Breakfast in Egypt is a feast. Fuul and aish beladi,” she said, laughing a little at his very Western list of offerings. He might know what those were, depending on where he’d toured, but doubtful he had the sorts of ingredients necessary to hand. Not that she minded in the slightest; she was curious about him more than the contents of his pantry. “Perhaps I’ll treat you some time. But I want to know what you like, Eddie. Make us your favourite?”

She couldn’t tell from his answer how long he was planning to stay in Moscow, and she didn’t press. Everything in Nesrin’s life was temporary, and if he was only in the city exploring options, perhaps that was ultimately a good thing.

His returned teasing coaxed a flirtatious look, amused. She came closer, sliding her coffee next to the sink behind him as she leaned into him gently. “While you’re thinking about it, I have another favour to ask.” She didn’t divest him of his mug, but she did take his free hand and slide it over the top of her thigh, trailing the bare curves to cup her hip hidden under the shirt. She watched his expression as she did it, wanting to see her effect on him, a sly smile on her lips. “I might also need to borrow some pants,” she confided in a whisper.

She kissed him then, prey to the trap of her own temptation. It was deeper than the one he’d given her before he’d passed her the coffee, yet wasn’t the heated seduction of last night – it was something softer, more like a question she asked herself. When she pulled away, the smile was genuine but unapologetic, as she let him remember about that breakfast.