How sometimes it is the one you overlook.

Hey, hey. Mia here again. And I have the keys to the kingdom. Nigelhare.com aka Nigel is now allowing me to write straight onto the site. He is bypassing his control, his editing and rejection are now a thing of the past. Mia quickies are coming for you.

I think the last time I wrote I had just visited my cousin and decided I needed a bounce. I had my eyes set on a guy at work, Chris. Younger than me by about a decade (it is improper etiquette to ask) and at six feet, he was tall. He had the body of a single man, slim, toned but not excessively muscular. For me, that is the best styling of a man. If he spends too long in the gym, a man becomes self-obsessed and arrogant in bed.

The flirting went well. I laughed at all his jokes, a large smile whenever I saw him around the office. Whenever we found time for a little chat I would twirl my finger through my hair. I gave him my eyes. The double blink, the seductive look.

Answering telephone queries and imputing data onto a computer screen is not a tough job. Once you get used to the programmes and the system it is all so easy. The man that helped me through all this was called Cyril. An old name, though the man himself is not that old. He was patient with me, did not overload me with information that I did not need. He was an excellent teacher. Not on the pretty side in looks, his clothing was quite sedate, his voice soft and his words curiously succinct. At the beginning of the day he would talk football, or others sports, with John. John barely speaks to me, except to say good morning. I was told by Tina, the young woman who makes the fourth on our quad of desks, that he joined a few months before me and is just working till his state pension kicks in.

What is more dangerous is Mia getting dressed in her finest casual going out clothes and her target not being there. If he cannot be bothered to engage with his work mates, is he worth my energy? I know I never checked if he would attend, but I let him know I would be there.

It took a few drinks to get over my disappointment and a few drinks more before the Karaoke started. Cyril had a beautiful voice, sang both Rod Stewart and Britney with a grace and range you rarely hear in karaoke.

That soft spoken voice hid a personality that was disarming with the charm of someone better looking. He turned my head. Yet he gave no sign that he was interested in me as anything but another human. An addition in my eyes.

He has invited me to join his pub quiz team next Tuesday. I hope it goes well.

I am Mia Presso. This is my Bio and I want to thank you for getting to the end of my piece.

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