she is adjusting her make-up with her compact when she notices him drop something olive-green in her glass of bubbly. she immediately texts zanele and angela – ‘fire on the roof.’ zanele and angela are late for their usual friday after-work drinks. she swerves round to face the counter, put her phone on the counter-top, it buzzes instantly – ‘lol! brigade on the way. entering bar.’ she continues to chat with him – good-looking dude. moments later, zanele walks into the bar – smiling alluringly at fireman as she hits the bar. ‘you new in town?’ she sidles up to him – real close. her charm and jasmin noir are hitting high notes – he smiles. his apom pour homme is linear – she smiles. ‘nope. been around a while. in fact, i live around this neighborhood.’ he notices she isn’t wearing a bra – he responds tendonly. ‘this yours?’ he nods and laughs. she takes a sip from his glass of bubbly and pushes it to the side. back to bar, she stares naughtily into his eyes. ‘are you meeting someone?’ he looks around the bar, no one seems interested in her or to have followed her into the bar. ‘why you asking, you not interested?’ she sidles closer to him – both facing the room of early revelers. he swallows hard. her phone buzzes, she retrieves it from her bag. ‘you done! good.’ she turns to him, ‘sweetheart, the fireman is done.’ and she walks away – as cooly as she had walked into the bar. he sits looking after her – posterized. he turns to face chedza, she is drinking the bubbly furiously. ‘woah! hold up. that will blow you away if you drink it that quickly.’ she laughs raucously. ‘bitch! that’s the hell what you are. i don’t like being played. you want me or her?’ she didnt’t wait for him to respond – she gets up, dreadlocks swishing drunkenly, and starts to wobble out of the bar. she stops after three steps and turns to him, head cocked, ‘come fireman, don’t you have a fire to quench?’ thirteen minutes later they are in his studio apartment – just up the road from the bar, t-pain is singing something unintelligible. she is sitting recklessly when he re-enters the room – his throat is dry. he is sweating and his breath is short. he has never felt this much passion for a girl before. he laughs awkwardly. ‘you good?’ he slurs. she watches him calmly – it’s time. she coughs.

zanele, this time with angela, walk into view – angela puts two tablets of rohypnol on the table. ‘hey fireman, next time you’re interested in fucking a limp girl, don’t get distracted.’