Boss Chick Dreaming Of A Gentleman
Even
Chuck has noticed…I’m only five-eight, and I _won’t_ tell you my weight–
I try to lose some every now and then, but it’s hopeless, even with the
damned cigarettes; and now my face is starting to crinkle a bit round the
eyes. But my general shape, excepting the extra on the hips, is pretty
good. What I have up front is my best feature; if Chuck and I ever went
anywhere, _and_ if he’d allow it, I’d go in a strapless low-cut gown and
knock ‘em dead.
I wear a Walkman when I’m doing data entry and listen to the old
dreamy songs–Blue Velvet, If Loving You Is Wrong, Outside Looking In–and
lately the guy I see in my head dancing with me to the oldies is Tom. So
here’s this attractive guy, a little taller than me, gentlemanly, kindest
eyes I’ve ever seen, holds open doors for you (I still believe in
chivalry), thinks of everyone’s birthday, & sings quietly to himself while
he works–nice voice–sits ten feet away, and I want to touch him, and
can’t _and_ I’m his immediate supervisor. Gotta think of something.
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