Girl At Work

She was alright. I mean she was attractive, sexy even. She looked me in the eyes when I talked and when she talked she touched my arm or hand to emphasize the important parts of what she was saying. She liked to talk about sex but in a tangential way so that it was never clear who was doing who or if anyone was even having any fun. I was into her for a few days, I admit.

She was a part time photographer, shot the occasional wedding she said. I pictured her on all fours from behind looking back over her shoulder. I never saw that picture. Others did, of course, but I don’t think they saw anything I didn’t. She always seemed transparent. It was like I saw her naked the first day I met her but she didn’t care and neither did I.

I was at ease around her because I had no expectations. I could have taken her out but it seemed easier not too. I was leaning toward the counter when she slid in front of me. I smelled her hair, her ass against my thighs, like she was showing me what I was missing.

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