"Heya Smitty," she sauntered into the room. Her practically see-through blouse offered up her sexuality and clearly displayed her intentions.
"Hey Cupcake," Smitty replied. She perched herself on the edge of his desk and smiled seductively. He knew what she wanted, and he knew she'd get it too.
"You busy?" she cooed. He didn't say anything. Smitty didn't have the strength to turn her away. Even if he understood exactly how he felt for Amy, and could describe it with flowery speeches, he didn't think it would stop Cupcake anyway.
Amy Archer, fast-talking, ace reporter, full of brass and crass. Just another one of the guys.
Not exactly. Not to Smitty.
Cupcake sat on his lap and forcefully kissed him.
This isn't how it would be with Amy. Smitty figured Amy'd walk in and say something like, "See here, I've got a 20 minute coffee break in an hour, and I'm gonna come back and you better be ready for me." Blunt, direct, to the point. None of this "let me see how far I can go before you stop me," which was exactly the look Cupcake gave him before she took off his belt.
With Amy there'd be passion. There'd be fun, a little romance, and-dare he think it-love? Smitty could see Amy afterwards, using a sheet to cover herself, cigarette in hand, eyes shining.
"Yeah, I love you too kid," she'd say with a wave of her hand. And the next day in the newsroom, she'd be pure professionalism, except for the glow in her eyes that'd show she remembered. Amy would care.
Cupcake didn't give any sincerity in her act. She had her own agenda. She stopped and looked up at Smitty with big eyes that sought approval.
"This ain't gonna get you outta the mailroom kid," Smitty said frankly. Cupcake's face fell.
"To hell with you," she spat, and stormed off.
"Yeah...to hell with me," Smitty sighed.
