It was one a.m.

There was a certain silence, where heartbeats and the humming of the little fans in the towers combined to make a heavy, weighted hush.

For the Nth time we sat on opposite sides of the room. Hardly even acknowledging each other’s existences.

She and I had worked together for a year now and I wasn’t sure she knew my name. It wasn’t like she was cooler than me or anything. She was a geek, just like me. A geek who got a phone call on a Saturday night to fix a crashed server. A geek who didn’t have a date.

There were little things we shared though. The silent bond of people who are in the same boat.

We got here at midnight. I noticed right away that she was dressed for bed. Her reddish hair was up in a bun. It was kind of weird hair, a little too curly and frizzy to say in a bun so little bits kind of stuck up here and there. She was wearing this pink t-shirt, it looked really old, as if she wore it to bed every night. It was kind of thin and I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra.

I couldn’t even say hello to her when I noticed that.

I was in a button up shirt with stripes. My grandmother got it for me. I live with her. She always tells me to dress for success. I guess I can’t say no to any women.

Anyhow, her name is Andrea. The girl I work with, not my grandmother. My grandmother’s name is Naomi, but I doubt anyone cares.

Anyhow, Andrea is not really what would commonly be considered beautiful. You wouldn’t see her on a magazine. Well… maybe PC World. She is really beautiful to me though, especially now.

She is sitting in front of the big monitor over there, I think she is defragmenting something. The blue of the screen is all illuminating her face and her hair and it is mixing with the pink of her shirt and making it all this pretty lavender color.

Her shirt is so thin I can just make out the dark circles of her nipples. They are bigger then I pictured. Not that I spend my time picturing her nipples. Well, maybe sometimes.

Tonight is different though, I see her starring back in the reflection of the monitor. I blush so hard I think I might have an asthma attack. I take a hit from my inhaler just in case.

She stands up and walks over to me. I am back to looking at my screen. I am pinging various computers on the network to see where the problem is. She looks over my shoulder and suggests an entire system reboot. I can smell her perfume. It smells like a whole field of roses. As she is talking she puts her hand on my shoulder.

I can feel the heat of her body through the 40% cotton and 60% polyester. My dockers tighten. My chair squeaks.

"Don’t be so jumpy Emmanuel." She whispers.

Her voice is so perfect.

"Don’t you think I know how you watch me?" She questions.

I want to answer, I want to sing a hymn to her beauty, but my muscles tighten and my jaw fuses shut.

"What would you say if I asked you to take me right here, surrounded by all these Terabytes of memory?"

With that some unknown part of me awakens and I stand. I turn to face her pouting lips and heaving chest and knowing eyes and she knows that I will now make love to her as no one ever has, here on the cold floor, our hot love shall melt through all firewalls and expose something new, something amazing.

Let the network burn, tonight I shall know love.