On my way in, she was working again. Her brown hair is partly covered with a rolled bandanna, and is down and slightly tangled. The bandanna brings out her bright blue eyes. Her maroon and light blue sweater is tight and shows the outline of her thirty four be bra, and is very tight around her stomach.
We exchange a smile and I ask for a coffee. Filling up the cup, I cannot help looking her up and down. She looks good from the back, too. She has no panty line and I get the vibe she is not wearing a thong either. Handing me my coffee our hands touch and she comments on my smell. It is cocoa butter, I am trying something new, I say. She likes it. I think I might stick with this for a while.
Taking a seat in the corner I pick up the book I brought in and pretend to read. Skimming several lines and turning the page every couple of minutes she keeps looking over. I cannot tell if she continues to smile after noticing me because she does not mind, or if it is not the first time she has been in this situation. Eventually, she comes to my table and asks if I would like anything else. I am about to leave, I say, but I could use a blueberry muffin. "We are out of blueberry," she says, "but cinnamon is pretty good."
Glancing back on my way out, her smile is fading and she is wiping a table. Our eyes meet one last time, and as I wave goodbye, she looks somewhat disappointed but muscles a smile.
The fifteen minute drive to work, I am continuously hit with the Spirit of the Staircase, but I will be back tomorrow.