Perfect Strangers

Myla snorted. “Nicer? Really, Cass? He picked spinach from between his teeth half the night in between comparing me to his ex-girlfriend, and as for his taste in attire, let’s not even go there.”

Rearing her head back at Myla’s words, Cass looked offended. “My brother is a good catch ‘little miss chastity belt’! Had you have told me

exactly where you were going, I would have told him to dress up.”

“If a man must be told to dress up to go on a date, Cass, He isn’t worth it. I want a man who knows how to dress for a woman, you know, like how we dress up for a man?”

“You are never happy, Myla Fox. I think you are going to grow old and lonely, just a spinster.” Cass smiled as she flicked the ash off her cigarette into the rose bush next to the patio door.

“There’s an ashtray on the floor, Cass. Please use it.” Myla scolded, gripping the butter knife in her hand even firmer.

“So, you seem Miss Grumpy this morning?” Avery noted when she caught Myla’s attention.

Shrugging her shoulders, she turned back to the stove and started to dish up the breakfast that she suddenly didn’t want anymore. “I didn’t get much sleep,” she mumbled.

“Why is that?” asked Cass. Myla caught the excitement in her voice as she inwardly groaned at having to spill her guts to her two closest friends about the predicament she had gotten herself into.

“No reason,” she replied. Placing the plates at the table she scurried to the cutlery drawer for eating utensils and grabbed the tomato sauce. “So, your date tonight?” Myla questioned, stabbing her fork into her egg yolk and watching the yellow color seep its way over her plate.

Ramming a slice of bacon into her petite mouth, her eyes grew wide as she frantically chewed and held a finger up. Myla smiled. She remembered this was exactly what Cass had done to her the first time they had met. Cass worked in the recruitment agency that Myla had gone to in the desperate need to find some work when she had first moved to London. She was the receptionist, her mass of auburn curls, which framed her pixie-like face, made her thin, red lips stand out. Myla noted she could have benefited from a course of lip fillers.

Walking in through the door that day, she had caught Cass eating a sandwich. She proceeded to hold up a finger with wide eyes as she had frantically tried to jam it down her throat before speaking. “Please don’t tell anyone you caught me eating at my desk, my boss will fire my ass,” she had begged, once her mouthful had been swallowed.

“I promise, I’ll take your secret to my grave,” Myla smiled in return. Cass had insisted on repaying her silence with a drink after work, and they had been friends ever since.

“What did you say?” She heard Avery ask as she was suddenly snapped from her trip down memory lane.

“I’m sorry, say what, about what?” Myla replied.

“I said, if you’re not going to eat that, can I have it? You have been swirling your fork in the yolk for the last few minutes.”

“Yes,” she whispered, pushing her plate towards Avery.

“So, my date tonight? Do I shave down there or leave it as it is?” Cass asked bluntly, causing Myla to choke on her mouthful of coffee.

“Shave, no man likes a mouthful of coarse wires when he is doing the deed,” Avery replied casually.

“Do you think? I may go to the salon and get waxed instead then.”

“If it’s your first time, Cass, then I wouldn’t advise it if you want any action tonight. You’ll bleed the first time. It rips you to shreds. Go with shaving.” Avery nodded firmly.

Myla sat with her mouth gaping as she looked from Cass to Avery, like she was watching a tennis match.

“Yes, that’s true. I’ll shave then. All of it? or shall I make a pattern?”

“Are you planning on making a Picasso in your pubes?” Myla asked sarcastically.

“What’s your problem?” Avery demanded, slamming her cutlery down harshly on the plate.

“Nothing, but is this really a conversation we need to have over breakfast?”

“Are you jealous, Myla?” Cass smirked, as she shoveled the remainder of the sausage into her mouth, tauntingly.

“Oh please!” Mocked Myla.

“Come on then, when was the last time a man went down on you?” Cass challenged.

“I’m not disclosing these details with you,” she retorted as she stood from the table and made her way towards the sink. The cream envelope caught her attention as she passed. “I need your advice,” she quietly admitted. “I’ve done something stupid.”