Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story.
I had been working in the Information Systems Department on a Claims project for nearly two years before Elia came into my life. It's not as if she had any intention of having anything to do with me; it was, in her mind, unavoidable. She took a job in the same department working on the finance side of the house, an entirely different account but part of the same organization at the regional level.
We happened to have offices on the same floor of a fourteen story building, although Elia was near the west end of the building and I was against the east wall. Since the building was a city block square, I didn't get to see much of her – never because she came to my part of the building, but only when I went by her workstation or saw her in the coffee room.
In my opinion, Elia was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had a gorgeous face, long blonde hair, and a curvy body with large boobs, small waist, and a perfectly round bottom that swayed like little animals in a squirrel cage when she walked. She had a nice personality; I know, because I listened to her talk to her co-workers whenever I could.
But that's not the way she treated me. If she could have completely ignored me, I'm sure she would have. Even when I said, "Hello" in passing, she looked at me like I had two heads. Well, I did but at the time, that's not the heads I'm talking about. The only times she spoke to me was when she had to be civil or pass information, which was not often. Other than that, she turned up her nose when I was around. It was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with me.
Gradually I'd put Elia out of my mind and gone on with my work. Then I'd happen to spot her in the coffee room or down in the cafeteria or in one of the underground shops and my thoughts always turned prurient. She didn't discourage those thoughts by the way she dressed either. She wore mostly white blouses with frilly trim and a deep vee that showed her generous cleavage. She wore short, tight skirts that accentuated her rounded ass and highlighted her long legs. I think most of the guys in the shop thought about sex with Elia. I wondered which of them actually got lucky.
Sigh! Back to work, I put thoughts of bedding Elia in the far recesses of my mind. My project heated up as milestone after milestone passed and the target deadline approached. It was going well but one thing you can count on in data processing is Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Problem after problem arose and my hours went from a typical workweek to 50 hours to 60 hours to 80 hours and finally 110 hours a week. It was a miserable life but at least I wasn't mooning about Elia.
The implementation deadline arrived – the Tuesday after Memorial Day, late in May – and fortunately we made it. The project was a success, at least initially. We'd have to see how it shook out in the months to follow. There were always changes to be made, things that had gone unforeseen. At least, my hours dropped back to a semblance of normality. I even got a couple of days off to rest and recuperate. Boy, did I need it! I was tuckered.
As it turned out, things went much better than I expected. There were very few glitches and even fewer requests for changes, but those helped the time pass rather quickly.
Then the second week in June, the regional group held their annual picnic at a huge park just a few miles from the office. I was always kind of ambivalent about attending those kinds of functions, because spouses and families were invited; since I was not married and did not have kids, I felt a little out of place.
However since I was really tired after the ordeal of the implementation, I decided I would go this year, if for no other reason than to get outside and get some fresh air – well, as fresh as you can get in the confines of a metropolitan area. Mid-morning Saturday, I walked my Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail Classic motorcycle out of the garage, took time to wipe it down with a soft cloth so that it was shiny blue, and cranked it up.
Although I didn't usually ride the motor - the slang for motorcycle from my old southern stomping grounds - during the week, riding on the open road was something I loved to do during the warmer months, something that was a bit of a problem in the upper mid-west state where I lived. However June was usually a great month for riding and the forecast was for sunshine all weekend. It was a nice leisurely drive to the park where the picnic was being held.
There were four accounts, comprised of about 275 people, in the regional group, all invited to participate. When you add kids and spouses or significant others, it made for a substantial gathering, even when you take out some of the people who never appear to socialize. I guessed that there was well over 500 people in the pavilion area by the time I arrived.
Grabbing a can of Coke from a cooler, I began wandering through the groups of people standing around talking. It is amazing how many people you get to know in a setting like that. I have to admit too that I kept a watchful eye out for all the females because it was a wonderful opportunity for them to get out in skimpy clothing and enjoy the nice weather. Most of them were just beginning to work on a summer tan so quite a bit of white skin was flashed around.
I really loved all the very short shorts on women with tight little butts – or even on broader, not-so-tight butts. And boobs galore. Everywhere I looked there were boobs unleashed. Boobs in tank tops with no bras, boobs in cut-off T-shirts with no halters, boobs in loose knit tops with little straps that didn't cover anything when their wearer bent over the coolers! I have to admit that I didn't care whether they had a ring on their finger or not – if a lady flashed her goods, I looked! I was glad I had come.
When the grillers clanged on a dinner bell to signal the beginning of lunch, I waited and watched for a while longer, surveying the four lines of people who passed by the food tables. I did a double-take when I noticed Elia in one of the lines; she was as sexy as ever and easily the most beautiful woman I had seen there. However she gave no indication of seeing me – unless it was when she turned her back to me.
It took a good 45 minutes for the lines to work down appreciably so I got up and went to the end of one. I got a couple of hot dogs and some chips, along with another can of pop and then stood off to one side to eat, since all the tables I could see were fully occupied. I didn't mind. In fact I enjoyed listening to the hubbub of the crowd. I had just dropped my trash into a garbage bin and picked up my Coke when I felt a hand tracing the logo on the back of my black leather vest ... the logo of the local chapter of HD owners to which I belonged.
As I started to turn, I heard a voice ask, "So ... are you a motorcycle owner?"
To my shock, it was Elia.
"Yes, I am. A proud owner, I must say."
"Oh? What kind?'
"It's a Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail Classic, 1450 cc, sunglo blue. Would you like to see it?"
"Sure. In the parking lot?"
"Uh, huh. Right over ... there." I pointed in the direction where I had parked. "Do you ride?"
"No, I never have. But I've always wanted to."
"Really? It can be a lot of fun. You know, wind in your face and all that."
She laughed, a sound I don't think I had ever heard before. "And bugs in your teeth?"
"Well, yeah, sometimes. But not too often. I'd rather wear a helmet with a shield then eat the bugs. Here it is."
"Wow! That's a beauty. I like the blue color ... and the black saddlebags ... and the back rest. Is it fast?"
"Yeah, faster than I've ever been able to let it out."
"So what's the fastest you've ever been on it."
"Well ... promise you won't tell ... once, on the interstate up north, I let it out to 92 before I had to shut it back down."
"Wow! I'll bet that was fun. Do you give rides?"
