It was like any other day at work when I noticed it. Her. Kathleen. Kat, with her strawberry blonde mass of curls in a messy bun topping her head. She chewed her fingernails, which were chipped black, as she hurriedly placed her cigarettes in her leather bag and looked me in the eye.
“Help me get ready,” she said as I nodded at her ice blue eyes and smudged eyeliner.

She sauntered in front of me, her frayed denim shorts caught my wandering eyes as her thong peeked out above her shorts and her shirt hugged her taut little body.
Kat is sexy, I realize.