My roommate, Lucas, worked for the advertising firm she was vice president of.  That was how we met.  He had asked me to be his date for some office party at a hotel.  It wasn’t a real date, I’m gay, but he didn’t want to be the only schmuck by himself.  It didn’t take him long, though, to find a woman that came by herself.  By the end of the night, they were making out in the coatroom.  I was left by myself. 

I lit a cigarette and just stood outside on a balcony on the same floor as the party.  I debated on leaving, perhaps throwing condoms filled with lotion all over Lucas’s bed before heading off to my room, when she came out. 

I had noticed her earlier that night.  It was hard not to.   She had short, straight, black hair, pulled behind her ears.  Little wisps of curly hair around her face suggested her hair was naturally curly.  She had big green eyes, a strong, slightly curved nose, and nice pouty lips.  She was tall, full-figured, and looked like a goddess.  The way she was dressed (pantsuit) and the way she carried herself just screamed, “Dyke.”  She was extremely attractive, but I had a girlfriend who was out of town, so I didn’t bother to try to strike up conversation.  She seemed busy anyway.  All of Lucas’s co-workers were completely sucking up to her and asking her various questions about work.

Yet here she was, standing a few feet away from me, taking a Johnnie Walker straight in one gulp.  Mmm, tough dyke.

She looked at me, surprised there was someone else there.  “Sort of,” she said.  She had a nice husky voice.  “I thought this would be a party, not a meeting.”

I held up my box of cigarettes, but she shook her head.

“Neither do I, but a few years ago, I noticed if you just hold a cigarette outside and pretend to be pensive, no one bothers you.  I’ve been nursing this thing for twenty minutes.”

She gave a surprised chuckle. 

“Great, I’ll remember that next I see you smoking on the job,” she laughed, accepting one.

“Oh, I don’t work for the firm.  I came with a friend.”

“Good, that avoids that awkward conversation of me not remembering your name or what you do in the firm.” 

I lit the cigarette for her and she coughed when she did the start up puff. 

“Jill,” she replied, shaking my hand.

From there, we talked until the party was over.  We didn’t even notice the time pass by.  She was nine years older than me, Jewish, and enjoyed a lot of the things I did.  She mentioned her girlfriend and I