Short, brown, real

Mike: Nope! In my hotel, if you can believe it. In the elevator.

Mike took a long drink of his beer and pulled off his shirt.

Carlos: Let me guess, tall, blond, big fake boobs.

Well, this would definitely surprise Carlos.

Mike: Short, black, real boobs.

Mike stripped and jumped in the shower, bringing the rest of his beer with him. This morning he had cursed his Friday breakfast meeting in Oakland with his mentor that forced him to get to New York on Thursday night. Now he thanked whichever god had inspired Dr. Davis to schedule that meeting so early in the first place. And also the one that made him follow Stella onto that elevator.

Even though he was paranoid about running into another member of the Rogers-Allen wedding party, he took a chance and left his room to get a burrito from his favorite New York taqueria. He pulled his hoodie up over his head as he crossed the hotel lobby, though. No need to take too many chances. Luckily, he made it there and back scot-free.