trans=demic

“Don’t burn your lips, you may need them for the hot guy who just bought you this drink.”
The guy circled the bar and took the bar stool beside her.
“Is that drink radioactive?”
“Could be, it doesn’t matter, because so am I.”
“Agree that you’re the bomb, but you’re nuclear?”
“Worse than Fukushima, cuz I’m trans.”
“Would never have guessed that.”
“It’s in my OkC profile.”
“I never got past the picture, you’re so perfect.”
“Except for the T. Can I keep my drink?”
“For sure, and the next one’s on me too.”
Samantha looked in his eyes for the first time. He seemed sure of himself, and sincere.
She stirred the hissing dry ice into oblivion, then took the bracing first sip of icy vodka.
“God that’s good, all it needs is a kiss to be perfect.”
She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and uttered silent prayer to the god she’d never believed in.
Her prayers were answered with a brush firm lips against her trembling lips, a flicker of tongues, a gasp
when they parted.. Antoine noticed the passion.
“I deserve an extra good tip for that martini.”
The hot guy gave him a thumbs up.
“So I’m Jules, your DTLA paramedic, who are you?”
“I’m Samantha, your DTLA paralegal. So we’re both para somethings.”
Sam always lied about being a lawyer, wary of scaring guys off.
“How’s life in law land:”
“It’s a grind, the partners I work for are jerks, the clients are double jerks, and the parties on the other
side are triple jerks or worse. How about you?
“My job’s getting worse all the time too. Just when I got used to the homeless overdosing and dying, we
get nonstop emergency transports of seniors with respiratory distress.”

“The partner I work for went from screaming at a financial advisor during his last conference call to
calling me barely able to speak three hours later. Normally he sends me at least twenty emails a day.
For the last week, nada. He called it the Chinese Flu.”
“I’ve heard it called that. You’re Chinese?”
“Haven’t been there in ten years, and work in the most Anglo business in the world, surrounded by