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Three friends confront their desires.

It was nine-thirty so I went to get a coffee and bumped into Meg. She was wearing a pink sleeveless top and black dress pants that showed off her rear. Her patent-leather pumps completed the ensemble and added dimension to her already shapely calves. Her hair was still wet from her shower.

"I sent you the info. Did you get it?" I asked.

"Yeah. It shouldn't take long. Especially since it's only for closure. This isn't going to court or anything, right? I mean, we could get in big, job-losing trouble if this were to come to light."

"No. Yes. I mean, exactly!" I said.

Once again distracted while Meg was talking, I noticed a dark, sultry female enter the elevator. I excused myself from Meg and took the next elevator down. My door opened to the sub-basement and the other elevator had not arrived. I waited a minute and sat down on a bench in the hall.

She had familiar features. Of course, if your name's Maricetta you're probably going to be a latin bombshell.

Twenty years can erase a lot of distinguishing features, but not beauty. Look at Sophia Loren, Liz Taylor, or Ann Margaret. Undeniable beauty from the first year to the last. I watched as her perfectly sculpted body entered the half-door to the record department. I rose and followed her.

Rosalyn saw me.

"Maricetta just got in. I'll tell her you're here," she croaked.

"I'll wait," I said sitting on a bench directly outside the half-door.

Ten minutes later, she emerged - clearly displeased with my presence.

"What do you want?" she muttered impatiently.

"Maricetta?" I stammered.

"Yeah, we've met. What the fuck do you want? Why are you here. I'm happy now. Leave me alone - comprende?"

"I heard your name. I didn't know if you were the same..." I trailed off.

"I am. What is it you want?"

"I'm sorry to have bothered you. I didn't think," I apologized as I beat a hasty retreat. I pushed the button of the elevator and it finally descended. I stepped in and composed my thoughts.

Clearly that was 'THE' Maricetta. As much trouble as I had recognizing her, she had no trouble placing me. The question was: What the fuck happened?

Acting on impulse, as I am prone to do, I stopped the elevator and rushed back to records.

I opened the dutch-door and marched into Maricetta's office. I sat down at the chair opposite her desk.

"What happened? Where did you go? Why could I possibly have done for you to hate me like this?" I asked.

"You ruined my life!" her temper was flaring. She said no more, but sat down at her chair and put her head in her hands. Although she tried to muffle them, her sobs were still audible. Rosalyn poked her head inside.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Everything's fine Roz. Give me ten minutes," Maricette said, quickly composing herself.

"I'll be right outside," Rosalyn said in a whisper, indicating that she knew otherwise, and closed the door gently shut.

"You are dangerous," she said, "I shouldn't be talking to you. I am happy now. I have a husband and a son. Leave me alone."

"How am I dangerous? Why didn't you even call me - or write - when you left?" I asked.

I was confused and the silence gave the room more tension when she didn't answer.

I let the silence hang. I wasn't leaving until I found out why I was such a pariah to her.

She cleared her throat, about to speak, then though better of it.

I waited.


The ventilation hummed, making the room seem quieter than it was. When it became clear that I wasn't going to leave without response from her, she spoke.

"I'll tell you this once, and it never gets repeated. If I hear anything about it again, I deny it. I'm happy, I don't want you ruining my life," she started. I didn't dare interrupt.

"When we were in college, I loved you with all my soul," she paused, drumming her nails on her blotter, "I could only think of being with you.

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