Companion To Paris
Chat

The keyboard sound is typed gently, but still firmly, heard from the workspace on the top floor of the textile company building. The other hand plays the keyboard, while the other hand rests on the table supporting the chin. Biema was looking at the sales index last month on the monitor screen. Occasionally his forehead shriveled when he saw something that felt inappropriate.

This guy seems to be doing a job. However, no one knew that his heart was shaking. Restless and restless to feel something delicious and beautiful.

Sometimes his eyeballs stare at the monitor screen, but his eyes glare. He was dreaming of something. Lips smile. Then shake. Trying to refocus on his work. But the shadow of someone he remembered at this moment, flashed back. Biema smiled again.

This is how many times Biema has done it. Wants to focus on work, but someone takes his mind off. Now his eyeballs are fixed on his favorite watch on his wrist.

It's only about 9 a.m. He's delivering Paris at 6:30. That means Biema didn't see the girl for three hours. But now Biema is restless. The feeling of wanting to meet began to feel. Especially remembering about last night. The longing kept tempting him to go home.

Although this morning there was little to ruin the romantic atmosphere between him and Paris. But that doesn't stop him from remembering the good moment last night.

"It's Paris's hour of rest. Can I call him? Nope, no. I never called her. Maybe he'll be surprised and a little bad mood. Moreover, he was indeed angry because of that trace of redness. Or ... I can send him a message. A little short message. Just see how he responds." A brilliant idea was discovered by him.

Biema's hand immediately grabbed the phone to the right of the table. Wants to realize his idea. Then type the words on the keyboard bar with touch screen mode.

"Hello Paris. You still mad?" Type Biema. Head shakes.

"No, no. If I ask him this, he'll get angry. Because it was obvious this morning he was angry." Biema deleted the sentence just now. Silently while frowning out of thought. Looking for the right words to greet her angry girl. A few seconds later, he found an idea. His hand started touching the keyboard blade again.

"I'm sorry, Paris, I won't do it again. If necessary, I won't kiss your neck again." Biema read again the message in the heart. His forehead shriveled.

"Will not kiss his neck again? That's not possible. I've come to that level with a very long restraint. If he approves of my statement, my level will drop again. It'll torture. It will be hard to get to the level now." Biema did not send the message that was written and deleted it. Apparently he needs to think again.

"Ah, stop. Don't think too much. I'll just send you a message." Biema also typed something.

"Why so?" Type Biema origin. He didn't expect too much on this short, non-special message. Click! Biema sent the message. Put the phone back on the table. Then re-take the computer mouse to continue the work.

The tring!

There's an incoming message. Biema glanced over the flaming screen. There is a notification from the chat application on his phone. It's from Paris. There was no need to wait a few minutes, even a few more hours for Biema to wait. Paris quickly returned the message lightning-quick.

Biema surprise and reach for mobile phone. Sighing for a moment in confidence Paris replied to him in annoyance. Then immediately read the incoming message through the chat application, because the message only appears partially when seen in the notification screen bar.

"More than think you're my crap."

Biema eyeball buyak. Grazed a few times. Then read the message again carefully. His eyes blinked again. Apparently he didn't see wrong. Thas right. The writing on the chat sent Paris, is true.

"He ... think of me?" biema asked herself and saw that she did not believe what she had just read. "Easter?" Lips grinning. "Did she remember when I kissed her neck? The girl ..." Biema's finger began to type a reply message for Paris with a happy grin that was always painted on her lips.

Eh? Wait for. What message did I send you? Paris felt something was wrong. He opens the phone immediately. I quickly saw the message he sent. Paris reread the message he sent.

"More than think you're my crap."

With panic not made up, Paris intends to immediately delete the message. But when he saw the two blue ticks next to the message he sent. His hands stopped to wipe. That's a sign that the message he sent was read by the recipient. It was futile already if he forced to delete the message.

"Nrp ... Mampus, I." Sandra gawked at the grievances of Paris.

Paris grimaced sadly seeing that. Then grimaced with annoyance while hitting the air. The tring! There was a response from Biema. Paris tried to see the message slowly. Eyes squinting. Afraid of Biema's message.

"Essum? ...."

The initial word of Biema's reply was already so. Paris finally ventured to read the whole message.

"Essum? You still remember the touch of my lips? I can do it again and more, if you want. Even I can do it anywhere else, other than the neck. So that you do not have such trouble."

Both of Paris' hands rubbed his face with anxiety. Satisfying the carelessness of his fingers. But behind his hand that kept covering his face, he hid the passing red hue when he finished reading the message from Biema. Biting fretful lips with sensual offer from Biema.

Damn this guy. He's getting re-legitimate.

"Well? Wh why? What's up?" The consecutive question emerged from Sandra's lips that enjoyed the wide range of expressions just now. "Sir Biema sent the message, right?" guess Sandra's right. Paris thins lips. Shaking his head hid the reason he was agitated.

"No. No why." Paris hid. He also chose not to reply to Biema's message. He disregarded. He was afraid the chat would get hotter and hotter if it continued. Better not to reply.

"So how's this about your gossip?"

"I'm confused where to start."

"Yes. That's a little confusing. Because it's still gray. It's Priski or not" Sandra said. Paris is not confused about gossip. He was confused about Biema's message. "However, you'd say it must be Priski. You must have heard something, right?"

"Yes. I had a chance to hear the children's conversation in the toilet."

The tring!

A new message appears. Paris is silent not to reply. He's sure it's Biema.

The tring!

The message continues to sound. Make Sandra piqued and see Paris.

"There's a message on your phone." Sandra says.

Paris nodded. "I know." Although I answered I know, Paris did not immediately touch her phone.

"Look at who, that's who. Probably from Biema."

It was from Biema. That's why I didn't open my phone on purpose.