I'm watching the news on channel 7 and this pretty blonde reporter comes on. A bunch of thoughts run through my head as she speaks just the first two words about the event she's covering. First, I think she's pretty. Not beautiful but way beyond cute. Big eyes. She must be good with mascara or whatever it is women put around their eyes to accentuate them. Small nose, high cheek bones. But not the gaunt face that often goes with high cheekbones. A rounder face. Almost a caricature of what's supposed to be pretty; a human Barbie. Too cute. Even blond hair, the full Barbie treatment. But her coloring isn't blond, her hair has to be died or treated to be blond. I can't tell for sure but she looks as if she's probably not very tall and has a good body.
It's not fair and I'll never claim it is. Maybe women do the same thing about men, I don't know. But here I am, making judgments about her good looks right at first glance. Really male chauvinistic of me. Not only that but as I watch her talk I look at her lips forming shapes and think that she'd probably be great at sucking my cock. Well, sucking cocks in general maybe but of course I'm only interested in thinking of her sucking mine. At the same time, like on a separate plane, I also think that channel 7 seems to keep coming up with new faces all the time. Are they interns or something? What happens to them? I mean they're there one day and then I never see them again. Did they fail the test? Get sent to Kalamazoo or what?
Anyhow, I watch the broadcast and she does three stories. She's really attractive. But in life there are a lot of attractive people so I don't think much more about it. And then I see her every day on the news. She didn't show up and disappear like some of them. And then, a few weeks after I saw her for the first time, I'm eating at a small Italian restaurant that I like because the food's good and the prices are o.k. And there she is. The blond on the channel 7 newscasts. She's with someone. Must be a co-worker. He's old. I mean she's probably in her twenties, thirty tops. I'm thirty, the right age for her. This guy must be sixty. Over weight, balding, gray hair, sort of sloppy clothes. She's even better looking in person. Smiles, even laughs, seems alive.
I put my credit card in the little folder with the bill and in a couple minutes it comes back and I add the tip and sign it. I notice that Barbie or whatever her name is, I ought to remember it, and the old guy are leaving, heading out the door. I get up and follow them by a half minute or so. As I get in my car, I see the two of them. She kisses him on the cheek and he walks over to a car and she heads down an aisle to another car. I didn't plan this, never intended to do this. But as she drives out, I'm right behind her. On a whim, I decide to follow her. I even have a thought run through my mind that I'm, like, stalking her. In a way I guess I am but I don't really mean anything by it. I'm just nosy.
She doesn't go far, a dozen blocks or so and just two blocks off the main street and she pulls into an underground parking garage at an apartment building. I stop, pull to the curb. What am I doing here? But I look at the building and very soon she comes walking out into the center sort of patio area and goes to a door, appears to unlock it and go in. Must be where she lives. I also note a sign on the building that their are apartments to lease. I drive away, go home.
I rented my apartment a few years ago when I was starting my job. I'm doing a lot better now, can afford a much better place. And my landlord is cheap. I have a hard time getting him to fix things when they break. He refuses to paint or do much maintenance. I had though several times about moving but didn't do anything about it just because it's easier not to. Inertia. But by now I'm just month to month, well past any lease I had. So I can leave almost any time I want. The next day, I tell him I'm moving. He protests and finally offers enticements but I stick to it and tell him I'm moving at the end of the month. Then I go to Barbie's apartment house and ask about what's for rent.
It's actually a very nice apartment. A lot better than what I have now. And the rent isn't all that much more. I can easily handle it. I'm also on the first floor. Not next door to her but not far.
I'm not a nut. This is all by happenstance. I didn't stalk her. I never even had any plan about meeting her. But I do. I go to the laundry room one night and there she is. The usual "Hi" back and forth. I have a plastic tub full of clothes and I have a key so I wasn't some looney tunes she has to be scared of. Then I said, "Hey, I know you! You're that pretty, sexy reporter on TV." I could tell she would like to go away but she has a load in the dryer and another in a washer. So as I load my stuff, we actually talk a little bit. I ask about the hours she works and it's just what I expected, they're horrible. Not only a lot of hours, broken up and separated from each other, but lots of emergencies and getting called in at odd times. She's there for the noon broadcast then off until the five pm, then usually on through the six. The eleven usually uses canned stuff from earlier unless there's some breaking news and then she might be there late. She even tries to get assignments for special stories that take her out of town. Like she's been to New Orleans twice because of hurricane Katrina. She's really serious about being a great reporter.
We get along fine. She learns my name, Bob, I learn hers, Stacy. I also learn that she has a very nice body. Athletic looking, she must work out. And not real short either. Probably about 5'6". Nice legs. Not huge breasts but certainly there's something there. And actually more attractive in person than on TV, I think. And her mouth still forms shapes that make me think about her sucking my cock. And while I'm not sure, I don't think she's a kid. She worked at other, smaller stations before this. She may be as old as I am. Maybe not quite. Then a couple times we see each other coming and going in the building or parking garage and say "Hi, Stacy" and "Hi, Bob."
So one day when I see her coming in from the parking garage, after the "Hi's" I say, "Stacy, you're a very attractive girl and seem very nice and seem to be single and I'm single and I wonder if I could take you out to dinner or something some time."
She smiles and reaches out and touches my arm and answers, "Sure, Bob. My hours are weird but I'd be happy to if we can find a convenient time."
So I say, "How about now, this evening?"
"You don't waste any time, do you?" Then a pause but a pause with a smile. "Sure, why not? We may get interrupted by a call from the station but if that's o.k. with you, sure."
So we meet in about an hour and I drive her to the same Italian restaurant that I saw her in before. "This isn't any place fancy but I like it here," I tell her.
"That's fine," she answers. "It sure beats heating up a microwave meal and eating alone."
