<strong>Oliva</strong><br/><strong>Michelle's Apartment</strong><br/><strong>Michelle</strong><br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/4da9853b32ed423d03d06a1587ee4a69/tumblr_mnvyzd2vlP1rkcdc7o1_500.jpg)</div>Oliva's slim fingers dug through her purse. Her phone had just vibrated, and she was curious to see who the message was from. It was half past twelve, and Oliva was making her way home from work. As the manager, she often worked till closing at midnight. The drive back to her apartment was a good twenty minutes; she rarely went to sleep before one. She had learned to function on only five hours of sleep, and it became routine for her to wake up early.<br/><br/>Her manicured nails tapped and swiped across the screen of her Samsung Galaxy. She walked habitually up the stairwell to her apartment, but both her movements and heart stopped suddenly. She read the text several times, trying desperately to satisfy her disbelief. Stuffing her phone into her pocket, she hurried up the stairs. Her fingers fumbled for her keys, and she quickly disappeared into her room.<br/><br/>She had never expected a message from Michelle. The two were friends, but they had only seen each other in the airport. They both spent the majority of their time in the airport, and the Starbucks was located in the United terminal. On her way to work, Michelle often stopped by. Since it was often early, Oliva normally had some time to chat with her. Her first impression of Michelle was positive, and her interest in the young pilot had grown over time. The two had matching personalities, and Oliva found herself impatiently waiting each morning to see if Michelle would stop by. She made sure to always give Michelle discounts, secretly praying that she would return the next morning or evening.<br/><br/>They were friends, but, contrary to Oliva's wishes, they had never been anything more. Michelle had never struck Oliva as the type of girl who would ring her up suddenly late at night for sex. Adding to her caution, Oliva knew that Michelle was battling with a divorce. She wondered if it was a prank. Maybe somebody had stolen Michelle's phone. As much as Oliva wanted the text to be real, she kept finding herself in complete doubt.<br/><br/>To her friends, coworkers, and customers, Oliva seemed like an innocent young woman. In many ways, she was. Even in appearance, she was petite and adorable. Her free time was often spent volunteering, and she donated a sizable portion of her income to charity. She was very soft spoken, and her customers were loyal because of how well she treated them. But, like any adult human being, she had cravings for love and romance like anybody else. Her career as a manager made it difficult to find time for dating, but she had managed to try out a few women in the past few years. Nothing magical happened, but Oliva didn't mind having a relationship solely meant to satisfy her sexual desires. She thought that she was a more happy person when her sex life was in check. She had always been a very social person. She loved connecting to other human beings, and she thought that there was no better way to show your feelings for another woman than through sex. It was shallow, yet altogether compassionate simultaneously.<br/><strong><br/>"I'm glad I dressed up for work today..." </strong>She muttered, staring at herself in the mirror of her bathroom. She wore a blue blouse that revealed her entire right shoulder. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, but her front bangs were loose and parted in the middle. She also wore a pair of white pants and heeled sandals. She kept her jewelry to minimum, wearing only a ring on her middle-finger and a bracelet on her left wrist. She had been wearing a pair of sunglasses, but she had recently stuffed them into her purse. Her apartment was small and plain. She had never been the type to purchase luxuries. Even her clothes were from discount stores, although she managed to stylishly put the pieces together. She spent a few moments to fix up her hair, reapply perfume, and take a breather. She pulled out her phone and perused over the text once more. She held the phone close to her heart and said a short prayer. She just hoped it wasn't a joke!<br/><br/>Oliva took a deep breath and sent a simple response back to Michelle:<em>"On my way. Be there in twenty. Looking forward to seeing you ; )"</em>She had never been to Michelle's apartment, but her friend had supplied the address in her text. She knew that Michelle was well paid, but she wasn't prepared for the luxury that awaited her. The drive in her Kia Optima (http://images.gizmag.com/hero/2013_safest_cars.jpg) seemed to flash by, and Oliva realized that she didn't remember a moment of it. The whole time she was lost in thought. Was the text legitimate? That was the only question. It was obvious that, if it was real, her intentions were very carnal. Parking her car, she hurried into the apartment complex with her purse dangling beside of her. It was definitely high-class, and Oliva felt extremely nervous. She pulled out her phone and sent her friend another text:<em>"I'm here."</em>Finding the correctly numbered space, Oliva held her breath and rang the doorbell. Her heart was pounding, and she was beginning to second guess her choice of outfit. Was it too casual? Too upscale? Should she have showered and put on something different? Oliva had a habit of stressing herself out over miniscule details.