Someone Else's Lady

After calling her a bitch in German, I didn't see Angela for some time. Regardless of her appearance, this was probably a good thing because she was rather intimidating, and I got the distinct sense that she didn't like me very much. Then one day, I spotted Detective Michelle Michaels. Virtually all thoughts of Marshal Neumann were quickly forgotten. The detective was a few inches shorter, with long, dark curly hair and dark eyes. She might have been slightly less feminine than Angela, but like Angela, she was no butch. She was sort of in the middle—one you could easily picture with another woman, but that also wouldn't be as impossible to imagine with a man as with someone like Ellen DeGeneres, for instance. Where Angela was skinny, Michelle was neither fat nor thin. She had a very average body, but I was always more of a face person. As long as the person wasn't seriously obese, one's body size didn't really matter to me. I did like them to be taller than me, however, which wasn't asking for much since I was barely over 5 feet tall. The first time we passed each other coming and going on the elevator, I stopped dead in my tracks and stared. I just couldn't help it. Michelle noticed me noticing and cracked an amused smile. I never felt myself blush so fiercely in my life! It was so obvious that I might as well have shouted to her, "Oh my God! You're so fucking hot!" We began to run into each other enough to actually exchange hellos and ask each other how we were doing. I think most people would have described Michelle's face as being rather ordinary-looking. She didn't wear makeup, and I personally didn't think she needed it. It looked better on Angela than I supposed it would on Michelle. She had the look of a cop, though it was a look that suggested she was strong and tough and wouldn't take shit from anyone. Yet when she spoke, she had a very soft, friendly-sounding voice, and I could tell her sense of humor wasn't nearly as dry as Angela's probably was. I learned she was 35 years old and a Jersey native living in her own condo. She began to ask more questions, and where I would ordinarily find this suspicious or at least annoying, I was actually flattered by her curiosity. "I live with a lesbian couple that's also from Arizona," I told her one day as we walked together down a corridor. "Oh, you guys got an apartment or something?" I nodded. "A two-bedroom." "That must help with the expenses." "It does. I can't imagine affording a place on my own here, but living alone isn't my cup of tea anyway. Is it yours?" Smiling, she said, "Depends on the company." I smiled as well, and then she said, "The two offices in front haven't been cleaned yet, just to let you know." Now I was confused. "Uhhh… so?" She joined me in the ranks of confusion as she stopped by a desk in a large room and looked at me quizzically. "Aren't you part of the janitorial service?" I laughed. "No. I'm just someone who knows too many languages, along with the unknown, and swears at Marshal Neumann in German." The detective had a smorgasbord of emotions present on her face, ranging from amused to confused, and probably a little curiosity concerning my sanity levels as well. Finally, she just chuckled and said, "Okay. Well, I've been hearing something about a really gorgeous blond cleaning lady who's been hired recently." I felt myself blush in a good way. "But hey, they got half of that right."