"Zen And The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" Robert M. Pirsig. I was given this book by a guy named Sean, from Santa Barbra over 20 years ago. I was working at a bank and he came in from out of town to work on something at our office. Maybe it was the heating system as this is starting to get a brown-chicken-brown-cow porn feel. So, perfect the heating system it is. He really did exist and parts of this did really happen.
I was trying to move through my life after a broken heart. Pushing the lunch room doors open, not looking forward to the bland lunch I made along with the loud noise of the television, blaring the latest soap opera some of the women at work like to force others to watch, I was pleasantly surprised the tv was off and I was alone. As the doors swung shut behind me I realized I wasn't alone. Startled, I saw him and said, "Hello." First thing I noticed was his bright smile. Friendly smile, the kind of smile that says he can get under the hood of your jeep, fix any problem you have and not rip you off. But the corners upturned just slightly enough that says you want him under your hood ripping something off. There is something just below the surface. Next I noticed his jawline, he has a great handsome face. This good looking blue collar type, dirty hands but looks like he cleans up nicely has auburn long'ish hair. Hmmmm long enough to pull on I bet. A nice physique not overly muscular but looks like he's born with good genes to not have to spend too much time or any time working out. I like the natural bodies, the healthy ones not the ones that scream gym rat even the ones that may push the line towards dad bod are lovely. "Hi ya, how's it going?" his nice voice carried a bass cadence that seemed to reverberate in the empty lunch room and leave the hairs on my neck stand giving notice. I chuckle nervously somehow unsettled with the realization it's just him and I. My, maybe in an overly confident, voice responds, "Ha! What no soap operas for you? It's usually on when I arrive." "Nah," rolls out of his full lips while my eyes try to unlock from the sight of his slightly opened mouth exposing a hint of his tongue, "the noise was too much and no one else was here, I prefer to work in quiet." I'm suddenly made aware of my inner thighs now as I slowly walk over to my usual table. The air between my thighs seems to be parting my legs. The pantyhose I have been wearing now feels deliciously constricting around my shapely thighs, my almost buckling knees, and my small calves. My matching wine colored skirt suit suddenly feels like it is falling off of me, or it is me wishing for it to fall off. I'm feeling nervous. And hot. I have this sudden overwhelming feeling that we, that he and I should not be left alone. Nonsense. I thought, enough about this feeling. "Well, sorry to disrupt your solitude, but I am here now." I say half confidently testing my flirting abilities. "Yes. I see and take notice." Ah fuck. He's hot and I'm wet...
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May 2023
AuthorReleasing some steam. You should want to know me, not just a woman with pent up passion. Oh yea and you should start this from the beginning. |