It was late in the day when someone knocked on my cubicle. I cringed and hoped it wasn't another work request.
I looked up from my keyboard and slowly turned around. Theresa stuck her head in sideways. She smiled and walked in. She's a short girl-- no, give her credit-- a woman, wide hipped and small boobed, mid 30s.
"What's up? Heading home?" I asked.
"You got a minute?" she asked in her cute twangy accent.
She rested her head against a metal filing cabinet and reclined her body. She wore a lime-green light flannel shirt with small flowers, and a pair of cheap jeans. A little drab. She should have tried a little harder.
She looked down at me. "I gotta ask you something."
She has a pretty face, her long brown hair fell straight down.
"Sure." I sat back on my chair and pushed off my desk. "What's up?"
"You know I'm new in town. I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need the help. There's pizza in it..."
"Is it a party? I can bring a gift. Who's having the birthday?"
"You're funny." She laughed. "No, I was wondering if you had some time, maybe a few hours. I need help moving some boxes. I'm moving apartments. You know how these things work. End of the month, you have to get out. I'm almost done. Just need a little help finishing up. Celia's not very helpful." Celia's her daughter, 8 or 9 years old.
"Sure, I can help. Nothing too heavy, I hope. Where do you live?"
"North Seattle."
"I can help anytime. I'm not doing anything all weekend. So let me know." She glanced quickly at some pictures on my desk.
I said, "I'm there when you need me. Anyone else helping?"
"Just you and me. You're the first one I asked." She turned away, a little embarrassed.
"Anytime." I said.
She looked at me, "What about today?"
I nodded my head up and down, thinking. "I'll have to make a phone call. But I think it'll be okay." She walked out of my cubicle. Her ass filled out nice.
I spoke into the phone. "Hi."
***
We rode the bus to her place in North Seattle.
"It's going to be about an hour," she said. "Rush hour makes a mess of I-5."
We sat across the isle from one another. I read, and when I had the chance, took long glances at her. Our eyes met every once in a while. I'd wave and look away.
The bus roared.
"We're next," she said. We got off the bus.
"Let me help you with your backpack," I said, getting down from the bus.
We walked side by side. The streets were lined with cherry blossoms on all sides. It was about six o'clock, late in the summer. The sun was still out and the air was warm.
"So, why did you move to Seattle?" I asked. She was from Kentucky.
"I always wanted to live in a big city," she said. "Small towns don't treat divorced women very well. Everyone knows everyone's business, and they like to talk about it."
"Sounds awful."
"You get crucified, you do anything someone thinks is against religion."
I nodded. "So, you're telling me, they ran you out of town?"
"I left" she said. "I left her father. Got a fresh start. Just her and me."
"Made any friends?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"It's a full-time job taking care of a daughter by yourself. Friends become less important."
"I'll take your word for that," I said, and changed the topic. "Nice time of year."
She smiled. The sun shine reflected on her fine brown hair.
Her place was a guest-house in the back of a worn down lot. I greeted her daughter, a cute little blond, and got down to work. Teresa was moving into the back of an apartment house in a nicer part of town.
We did good time loading the station wagon. We made runs back and forth, loading and unloading, stacking boxes in the new place
On one occasion, she lifted a small but heavy box of books over her shoulders. Her pants fell below her hips, and gave me all sort of things to admire, her purple Hanes panties, her smooth stomach and bare hips. She adjusted her pants with a tug, but it wouldn't work. Her pants just kept sliding down over and over again. When she walked away, I took in the rhythmic sway of her behind.
"Hey, it's time to eat," she said. "There's a few boxes left, but I can handle that myself."
I panted.
"You should stay here and relax. We'll be right back."
The sun was still out, but it was getting dark. A few people still walked their dogs. You could hear kids playing in the neighborhood. I lit a cigarette and waited on the cement steps in the back.
I thought about her ass, and how cute she was. Cuter when she was sweaty, breathing hard, not quite so uptight. Shame about the kid. Nice kid, but she interfered with my fantasies. Too bad her dad wasn't there to take her on the week-ends.
After half an hour, Teresa came back with a pizza box and a Pepsi 2-liter.
She got out of the car smiling and giggling with Celia. I heard my name mentioned and then a shush. Damn she was beautiful. Her daughter ran up the cement steps and we all followed.
We sat at a cheap kitchen table under a naked light bulb. Teresa fumbled through a grocery bag. She pulled out disposable paper plates and plastic cups and gave them to her daughter to set. Celia opened the box and we all took turns pulling out slices.
