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This was exactly what happened a couple weeks back. I got sent to Tampa, Florida for a few days.
It was December 31st and I was at a work party at the building that held our offices downtown. The employees and I were watching TV, waiting for the Big Apple to drop in Times Square when I went down the elevator and out the front door to have a smoke. It was a few minutes until midnight and I was being stalked by my personal assistant for the week and I needed to get out of there before she cornered me at midnight.
As soon as I lit up, the door behind me opened and a young woman walked out lighting a cigarette of her own. I’d seen her coming and going from the building a few times in the last couple days but didn’t know her name. We’d never even said hi to one another.
I’d definitely noticed her though. At 5’9” tall and an athletic 135 pounds, with short brown hair with blonde highlights, the face of a model, a killer body and revealing outfits nearly every day, it was impossible not to.
Tonight she was wearing a form-fitting little black dress that barely covered her ass and black knee-high boots. She looked fucking incredible and I couldn’t help but stare at her.
When she caught me, I didn’t look away. I just smiled. Luckily, she smiled back.
“You work here, don’t you?” she said. “Up on the fifth floor?”
“Yes I do,” I said, surprised and a little excited that she’d taken the time to learn a little something about me. “What about you?”
“I’m on the third floor,” she said, puffing on her cigarette. “I’m Krista.”
“I knew a girl names Krista once.” I said.
“I’m not a girl,” she said, glaring at me with a hint of defiance but also a measure of playfulness. “I’m a woman.”
“Fair enough,” I said, chuckling. “I’m Jesse.”
“Nice to meet you, Jesse.”
“Same here,” I said.
“So, Jesse, what are you doing out here?” she asked me. “Don’t you have someone inside you want to kiss at midnight?”
“Hell no,” I said, taking a hit off my smoke. “I’m running away from someone, actually.”
“No shit?” she said. “Me too.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep,” Krista said. “He’s my boss. He’s been trying to get me in a compromising position for almost a year now.”
“That sucks,” I said.
“It is what it is,” she said. “And it’s not like I dissuade it. As long as he thinks he has a shot he lets me do whatever I want.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“What?” she said. “If he’s gonna act like an ass I’m at least going to take advantage of it.”
“No, no,” I said. “I hear you. It makes perfect sense.”
“I think so too,” Krista said, taking another puff. “What about you? Who are you running from?”
“My personal assistant,” I said. “She thinks it’s part of her job to make sure I’m happy all the time.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Not like that,” I said.
“Oh, I get it,” Krista said. “She’s old, fat and ugly, right?”
“Actually she’s a 21-year old former model from Sweden.”
