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An Inappropriate Glance
"Were you just checking out my ass?" Sara stopped in her tracks, spinning on her heel to face the detective. Missed the two knocking into each other by millimeters.
"My ass, your eyes, did the two connect?"
"No," Sofia rolled her eyes, returned them to the folder in her hand as she began walking down the corridor again. "I wasn't checking out your ass."
"Well, why not?"
"What?" This time, it was her turn to stop and spin on her heel. Once again, the two almost colliding into each other.
Sara folded her arms petulantly across her chest. "What's wrong with my ass?"
"There's nothing wrong with your ass," Sofia began to wonder if the woman standing before her was certifiably insane. How else to explain the strange conversation in the middle of the corridor at work, or the fact that she was enabling said conversation by continuing it. "It's cute, firm, and, as you Americans would say, tight enough to bounce a quarter off of."
Sara paused, processing this new information. Her lips spread into a cocky half grin. "You were soo checking out my ass."
"No, I wasn't." She blurted. Pressed an aggravated hand to her forehead. "If you must know, I was daydreaming. And not just about your ass. Something in the realm of you, me, a bed, soft sheets and nothing but sweat between us."
For the first time in what had seemed forever, Sofia had caught Sara at a loss of words.
"Oh," Sara finally spoke. "I see."
"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Sofia returned to what she'd wanted to do since the entire inane conversation began, walk to her office. She stopped again, turned enough to show the sly smirk on her lips. "And Sara, quit checking out my ass."
"Well," Sara mumbled under her breath. "It is a nice ass."
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