Fiction: Packing

She said she was leaving on the fifth. Today was the fourth.

"Do they always send you on these business trips on such short notice?" John asked Denise, who was some kind of consultant for a company that did something for someone, but he wasn't exactly sure what that something was for, nor did the knowledge of who the someone was exist in his memory. Her tone made him think it was all a big secret. Naturally, this perked his curiosity even more.

"I'm afraid they do, John," she replied as she packed. At least two suitcases worth, with lots of business suits. Denise didn't like to wear women's clothing—she preferred instead to play the game by the men's rules. "It's not usually this bad, though. Must be pretty important to send me there at the last minute."

John leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his stomach. "So what is it you gotta do?"

"Nice try, John. You know I can't tell you."

John shrugged. "I had to try, yeah? My curiosity gets the best of me when I'm faced with a secret."

Denise laughed at that. "Oh now, I wouldn't call it a secret."

"Oh?"

Denise smirked. "It's more like classified, need to know information."

"Now you really have me curious." John moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and watched her pack.

"Well, tell you what, lover." She closed the second suitcase, and moved both onto the carpet. "You can either try and get the proper clearance for this information," she said as she rested on her side, followed by a smile in John's direction, "or you can snuggle with me until I have to leave."

John decided that curiosity wasn't his style after all.