Paul shaked his Head sideways vigorously, his black silky Tie seemingly choking him and bestowing on him the appearance of a confused Detective. He b@nged his fist hard on the clay Earth colored table staring at him right in the face so hard, it seemed the table groaned at this unwarranted piece of agony.

He got up and pursed his lips tightly as many an idea assuming the role of the Devil’s advocate would. He folded his arms roughly accross his chest, inducing an almost invisible wrinkle on the Cream colored shirt that housed his upper region.
Several head spinning ideas ran, jogged, walked and again, zoomed about in his Head. He wished he hadn’t received Jola’s call when she called.

He had woken up that day with a grim determination of finding Anabelle after leaving work. He had smuggled an address that seemed like Anabelle’s out of Jola’s cell she when visited him Yesternoon. And it seemed things had been going great until she called, probably some Twenty minutes ago. Out of his seemingly weird state of unwarranted excitedness, he had picked cheerily and that was his mistake. Somehow, Jola had been able to buoy him down with a date by Seven and he hadn’t even resisted it. He had said okay but now, he was regretting his impulse.
He wished he had just been able to cook up an evasive excuse to wriggle out of the Shackles it seemed she had bondaged him with.

He felt he still loved Jola well. He knew it. She was the perfect home material. He felt She was the type of Woman he had been wanting to build his home around. He felt and knew he loved her.

He also felt the feeling was mutual also but even, His subconscious immoral sense told him he needed Anabelle. He wouldn’t be serious with her anyway, he assumed it would be just a Night’s stand, just a Night’s stand! Though, Anabelle seemed captivating and mellow enough, all he felt he needed was a Night’s stand.

His gaze tranversed round his cozy large office, and he felt he found peace in it. Its’ walls were painted brown and its’ roof, white.

The large sitting piece of furniture lied lazily but calmly on the shoning glossy marbled floor.

It seemed just the ideal office for a Managing director of a multi purpose Nationale company.

His eyes gleaned accross the walls to the seemingly dovey ticking Clock and the fast rate at which the time was pacing dawned on him.

It was Twenty to Five pm already; he had brooded for a probable Thirty minutes.

He organised the seemingly scattered files on his table and packed them in his casey portfolio.
He felt he should go prepare for the night ahead.
He wanted to suprise Jola, perhaps it would murder ruthlessly the lusty thoughts peeling unabatedly in his head.

---

Anabelle smiled as she read Daniel’s text.

It seemed really romantic. He really was an undisputed god in wordsmithing. He sure seemed nice and all.

Handsome, caring, tall, intelligent, well to-do and anything she could think of, she felt he was really a person she could settle with. Work had been hectic or rather, it seemed so. Many customers had busted with an enviable mearsurement of anger all day long. It seemed their new product didn’t go that well with people. Working with a paste producing firm hadn’t always being the rosiest of Occupations. She had left office tensed and tired, very tired, it seemed all she needed was a good sleep. Daniel’s Text wouldn’t hear of that either, it was the only thing that had made her smile all day.

Cupping her gigantic scantily cladded Boöbs, she clicked the ‘Send’ icon on her Cell and almost immediately, she heard the beeping sound that depicted her text had been successfully delivered.

She had finally felt like giving a trial to Daniel.

It wouldn’t kill afterall. She had sent him a dinner out text and it sure seemed, she knew he wouldn’t object that. He would readily jump at it, she knew.

Smiling, She got on her feet and plodded to the bathroom, she needed to get dressed quickly.

She wanted to grab some stuffs along for Him.