4
Monday, October 4th, 7:33pm – Tifa's Apartment, Sector Seven
She unlocked the door, bashing it open with her back as he pressed her up against it, allowing the light in the hallway to splash into the dark room. They kissed one another, moving towards the sofa in a clumsy embrace, neither willing to let the other go. Falling upon the sofa, he led upon her and kissed her neck, enjoying the sensation her soft warm skin produced over his lips. Her perfume danced in his nose – an intoxicating aroma of femininity.
She sat up and moved him back.
"How about a glass of wine?"
"That sounds great," he replied, watching her leave slowly to the kitchen, trying not to let crossed signals confuse him.
Pretending to look at his watch, he began to whisper into his cuff-link microphone.
"Check it out, Rude; sex on the second date. She's even sluttier than I thought. Anyway, I better get back to work. Oh, and I hope you're having fun back at the office finishing off the paperwork."
He smiled as a familiar sounding 'Fuck you' rang through his earpiece.
Tifa found the crystal goblets in the cabinet and gently poured the crimson liquid into them. At this, the wine drinking stage of the night, she would often let her nerves get the better of her and begin to doubt herself. Was she moving too fast? Was sex really the only way to open him up?
Shaking the feelings away, she found a simple answer to her own questions. Of course it may have been risky for her to initiate the advancement of the relationship so quickly, but maybe it was alright. Maybe he was just an anachronistic gentleman that liked to wait things out until she was ready, like the tuxedo wearing, moustache adorned men she saw in the matinee movies. Then again, she wasn't exactly expecting him to rip her clothes off in a fit of passion after the second date.
The second date? Holy cow, maybe I am moving too fast!
No, she thought, she was just the product of a new generation of women: strong, dominant, in charge of and proud of her sexuality. Either way, it didn't really make much difference. She wanted to have sex with him just for that raw satisfaction. Branded by the news as a subversive terrorist on a mission to blow everything she saw to smithereens, she had to take any opportunity she could. This may have been the last man that would take an interest in her.
She kicked off her high heels and walked back into the lounge, handing Reno a glass as she sat beside him. They sipped at their drinks and stared at one another, wondering if they should wait or make the first move.
He eventually took the lead by stroking the errant strands of hair from her forehead once more before they leapt into another tumultuous tongue wrestle.
Placing her goblet on the table, she stood up and held out her hand. He took it, suddenly yanked off the seat, and mustered up enough courage to ask her the stupidest question of his life.
"Listen, Tifa, things are moving pretty fast here. I just have to ask you if you're really ready for this."
She grabbed his tie, using it as a leash as she nodded and dragged him into the bedroom.
He removed his jacket, threw it on the floor and began to unbutton his shirt as they remained entangled in a passionate embrace. Falling onto the bed, shaking the floorboards as they did so, they continued to fight their way out of constrictive garments until they were bare.
Hot skin, dilated pupils and dry lips vociferated the intensity better than words ever could. They rolled in and out of the bed sheets, still passionately kissing and losing themselves in the moment.
The glow from the nearby streetlights brushed past the fluttering curtains, creating the appearance of an orange halo around her body. Her skin felt hot to touch, soft and sweet. He caressed it with the back of his hands, starting from the underside of her thigh to the base of her breasts.
As every moment sped past, the intensity and passion boiled together. He began to overpower her and she began to let soft moans escape, gradually increasing her volume the more sexually aggressive he became.
He kissed her stomach, moving further up, almost as though he were stalling for time. It didn't escape her attention.
With a nervous laugh, he stopped and looked under the covers.
Come on, Little Reno. Rise and shine. Shit! I'm twenty-three not sixty. This shouldn't be happening!
Hey, God, if you're actually up there sitting on your cloud then stop being so spiteful and help me out a little.
Of course, God was not on his side tonight, and soon enough they both stopped.
Tifa sat upright, holding the bed sheets over her chest, smiling in a way that only made matters worse for 'Little Reno'.
"Uh… is everything alright?" she asked.
"I-I really… have no idea what's going on. Uh… I think I'm just under a lot of… uh... stress and I... uh…"
He shook his head, waiting for her to say something reassuring. After allowing five gruelling minutes of silence to pass, he eventually jumped out of bed and gathered his clothes.
"I should get going… I'll give you a call tomorrow… uh… see you later."
She stared out of the window as he darted across the street in his socks and underwear, trying for his sake to repress the smile.
It soon erupted into a snort.
Than a full blown belly laugh.
"Oh my God. I think I need a stiff drink."
She always was great at making jokes when nobody was around to hear them.
Wednesday, October 6th, 10:40am – Whitworth Street, Sector Seven
Of all the places he could have chosen for the awkward conversation he had been rehearsing in the mirror and publicly dreading, he couldn't have picked a less romantic spot in the entire decaying city. Underneath the bus shelter on Whitworth Street, an area popularised by drug addicts looking to score some cheap smack, he sat, awaiting her arrival.
The area was even popular with the affluent plate-dwellers that travelled down here, held their noses and rolled back their sleeves. They brought their own needles and such with them, even though the fear of communicable diseases would advertise their identities and prime them as susceptible targets for local thugs and gangsters.
It didn't matter to them. Cheap smack is cheap smack.
Trying not to lean back against the graffiti clad glass wall of the bus shelter, he placed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Maybe it would have been beneficial to acknowledge the area as a place he knew well and loathed. Of all the things swilling in his mind, the prospect of vulgarity was the least of his problems, so he should have taken advantage of it.
He grew typically impatient as the seconds ticked by, the boredom gnawing away at him.
Why did I come so early?
He had told her to meet him at eleven, and yet, there he was, half an hour from the moment of truth.
It could have been the anticipation, it could have been the expired coffee, it could have been his bowels; either way, his stomach was trying its hardest to churn away the butterflies wreaking havoc within.
"Hey, Reno,"
He turned back, employing coincidence as the explanation for her early arrival.
"Hey, Tifa," he said, sliding over to the other side of the bench. "Have a seat."
She stroked a few strands of hair behind her ear and sat down besides him, choosing not to look at him. She wasn't angry, just a little confused, a little more humiliated and a lot more embarrassed for his sake.
She took a deep breath and a quick look around. There had been no need for him to worry about the emotional setting and the loss of romanticism that ensued. It was just another street in her city like any other.
Finding the courage to look at him, she could not help but feel a little deflated at the sight of his attire. His elegant suits that had been tailored to mould his slim but athletic body had been replaced by tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt with the sarcastically tasteful words Beaver Patrol printed upon it. She did not understand that the shirt's rather loud catchphrase was also the name of Reno's favourite band and had allowed it to subconsciously sour the mood.
After all this time worrying about the vulgarity of the meeting place he had forgotten entirely about his clothes.
"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked; a statement in all reality rather than a question. "I'm listening."
"About that Monday night--"
She quickly interjected, lifting her palm in the air.
"Listen, you really don't have to talk about that if it makes you uncomfortable. I understand that people have off days."
"But I still feel as though I should explain. Look, it's nothing to do with you, honestly. You're probably the most beautiful woman I've ever met." He tried to hide his slightly lopsided grimace. He really shouldn't have said probably. 'Definitely!' Don't give her any reason to enhance her diffidence. Draw her out more. "You're definitely the most beautiful woman I've ever met."
The flattery did not seem to be as effective as it had been a few days ago. Back then he was simply a stranger. She didn't even know his name. The mystery may have been the sexiest factor.
If he were to juxtapose the other factors in ascending order of importance then the mystery definitely would have been in the top ten. Two strangers knowing each other intimately without knowing one another's names - what a line! Still, the mystery would be nowhere near penis size or affluence. He may have only been a twenty-three-year-old but it didn't stop him from thinking the old fashioned way.
Having time to reflect on his current thoughts he rubbed his temples and sighed. Perhaps his flaccidity held a deeper meaning and origin.
"You wanna know how many times I hear that from my regulars? Believe me, Prince Charming could be sitting on his noble steed saying that to me and I would hardly bat an eyelid."
She did not mean to sound so vain but had no other method of syntactical conveyance.
"I just--"
"You really don't have to justify anything, Reno. I like you a lot and I'm willing to wait for as long as it takes." After throwing his ego to the ropes, she was now kicking it in the crotch. "To be honest with you I was moving pretty fast anyway. I'm never really so forward. I mean, we hardly know each other and I--"
"My uncle died."
With a substantial pause for breath, and another substantial pause to make sense of things, she simply replied with, "Uh… what?"
"The night before we went out on that date I got a call from my dad. His brother, my uncle Paul, collapsed in a supermarket in Junon. Apparently there was a blood clot in his brain or something." He crossed his arms and leaned forward to salvage any trapped warmth under his t-shirt. "I was really close to him and uh… it just came as a bit of a shock and I was in a really bad place."
Tifa dared to move her hand over to his shoulder and leaned forward, too.
"Oh. OK. Uh, I'm sorry for your loss. You know you could have just cancelled our date, I would have understood--"
"No."
He turned to face her once more, this time completely losing all fear of appearing too vulgar in his unflattering clothes at the lacklustre bus shelter. Looking up at the cracked glass ceiling of the shelter seemed to strain his eyes enough to produce a few tears.
Upon closer inspection he soon wondered why a bus stop would need an accompanying shelter when there already was a giant shelter over the entire city. Was it created to uplift the spirits of the citizens and to make the city seem as close to normality as possible? Or was it simply a sick subconscious joke played by the sector council who were possibly more bored than he was?
Soon realising he had spent too much time looking at the ceiling and not enough time explaining why he could not function properly on their previous date, he wiped his eyes and nodded.
"No, Tifa. I've found that over the years I've had a lot of problems with my relationships. I can never seem to find that perfect person and I always end up getting drawn away from the stupid little human flaws that are nothing at first but then seem to amplify."
He took a look at her changing reaction. She was becoming more difficult to read.
"After these women dump me and I get left with another bout of heartache for the next couple of weeks, I have to learn the hard way that those blemishes were my own." He reached out to hold her hand. "But when I looked into your eyes that first time we met each other a week ago… I could feel a new emotion stirring within me… a more tangible emotion that wasn't skin deep. I can actually see beyond your beauty to the person that you are.
"I guess what I'm saying is I didn't want to lose my chance with you and that no amount of bad news could have kept me away from you."
She waited, still searching for the appropriate amount of conviction hidden in bullshit.
His uncle died? I suppose it's obscure enough to be true… or obscure enough to be a lie.
"Still, I wanna take it slow from here. Is that OK with you?" she asked, a warm smile perched upon her lips.
"You can't believe how perfect that sounds."
She kissed him on the cheek, her warm yet dry lips scraping against his face for a few seconds or so before she got up and walked away.
"Give me a call when you feel it's the right time. Be careful not to take too long though. I wanna take it slow, but I can't wait forever now, can I?" she said, her smile melting away as soon as she turned back.
Wednesday, October 6th, 11:13am – Tifa's Seventh Heaven, Sector Seven
Jessie wiped away the strands of hair that had adhered to the sweat on her forehead. She took a deep breath and finished making the final repairs to the detonation wires with all the dexterity of a skilled brain surgeon and all the composure of botanist pruning a few leaves of her garden hedge.
The hard part was over; all that was left was the attachment of the new casing.
In all honesty, she had not reached the same level of boorish arrogance that Barret or Biggs had regarding the mission. She still did not feel comfortable overlooking the deaths of so many innocent people, often losing sleep as result of her loud conscience. After Tifa's rather strident objections it was obvious why she would feel so guilty.
She had no idea whether the boys felt the same way, but it didn't matter if they did. They would be forced to hide behind their testosterone, as usual, because they didn't have feelings and junk like that. They simply wanted to plant some bombs and watch a bit of late night wrestling.
Hearing the bell above the front door she quickly finished her job and dusted her hands. Turning back she was welcomed by Tifa, pushing the beads of the kitchen's entrance aside for her to enter.
"Hey Tifa, how's life treating you these days?"
Tifa found a mug in a cabinet, dumped in a teaspoon of cheap coffee and several teaspoons of sugar.
"You know… I think I'm gonna give up on men."
"What?"
"Seriously, I just don't get them. They always say that women are hard to understand. Apparently we don't know what we want or how we want it. Well let me tell you, men are worse. They have no idea what the word honesty means. They think it might hinder their chances of scoring if they tell us they're still a virgin or that they don't have stable income. Sex and money! That's all they care about." She poured in boiling water from the kettle and blew the steam before taking a sip. "I think I should pack up my things and become a nun or something. God's the only man I can trust now."
"I hate to burst your bubble, Teef, but God is a woman."
"No believe me, God's a man. This world is just riddled with disease, famine, murder, corruption and - and you know what? If God were a woman, she would never have allowed the world to get this messed up."
Jessie recoiled, thanking her lucky stars for the fact that Tifa had left terrorism out of the laundry list of God's screw ups.
"OK, Tifa, how about you tell me what's going on? Is this something to do with that Reno guy?"
"No it's… actually…" she stared into the swirling black coffee and sighed. "It's kinda embarrassing."
"Come on you can tell me."
"Alright, look, you remember how you said I would only be able to see a man's true colours after I had sex with him? Well, I haven't even done anything with Reno yet and I'm already starting to see the cracks in his personality."
Jessie found her washcloth and wiped the oil off her fingers, nodding her head along to the familiar sage advice. "Are these major cracks? I mean, are we talking cracks as big as Cosmo Canyon or as big as the cracks in Wedge's leather purse?"
"Nothing too major."
"Then don't sweat it. Nobody's perfect. I mean, do you honestly think you can find another man on a level higher than Reno's in this junkyard of a city?" She paused for Tifa's solemn shake of the head. "Then just stick it out for a little while longer. You can get over these first few hurdles and you'll be thanking me when you do."
She smiled warmly, returning to her normal state of well being.
"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Jess."
Jessie picked up the crates of explosives and headed out of the kitchen before stopping.
"I don't see what's so embarrassing about that though. Lot's of people have relationship issues."
Tifa rubbed her eyes and exhaled loudly.
"Uh, that's wasn't the embarrassing part."
"So what was then?"
She placed the mug in the kitchen sink and patted Jessie's shoulder.
"If I make it over the first few hurdles and I still find that this guy is not what he seems then I'll tell you."
"Promise? I'm itching to hear some dirt on this guy. He seems too good to be true."
"Yeah, I promise."