Almost everyone who meets Heather sees a beautiful, hardworking, dedicated thirty-two year old divorcee. For ten years she has worked at the automotive assembly plant and three months ago was promoted to motor installation line supervisor. Jed works on Heather's crew. He is the same age but was hired only three years ago after a stint in the Marines. At six foot three and a ripped two hundred and twenty pounds, his boy-next-door good looks hides his secret well.
Week after week as Heather stood near Jed, she could feel his strength. She often watched him work. The sight made her heart race and her pussy get wet. She had felt the same way watching interviews with Dante Culpepper during his years with the Vikings. Several times, Jed felt her eyes on him. He would purposefully stand too close, enjoying her discomfort. He would hold eye contact until she looked down or turned away. Jed was skilled and very experienced; he knew; Heather did not.
Before the divorce, Heather had been married for six years; no children; orgasms had been regular, gentle and unsatisfying; her ex had fallen asleep soon after their gentle love making sessions, leaving her thinking like Peggy Lee, "Is That All There Is?" Single now and in her thirties, Heather wasn't dating, only working, and finding little relief from her vibrating toys.
One Friday afternoon, one of the chains connecting a three hundred pound engine block assembly to an overhead winch slipped off and the engine swung wildly toward its slowly moving chassis. As she watched from her desk, Heather's thoughts raced from "Everyone get away," to "This will shut the line down for hours," to "Here goes my new job." Jed grabbed the engine, stopped it before it slammed into the chassis and lifted it until other team members re-attached the chain.
She raced to the line. "Jed, you all right?"
"Yea, I'm fine, nothing hurt."
"You really saved my ass and kept the line moving, but don't ever do anything like that again. You could have crushed a hand or worse."
"You are welcome. I know. I just reacted. I didn't think."
Heather realized her hand was on his chest. She could feel his heart beating, his sweat and his muscles flex. She groaned audibly and hoped he had not heard. He had. "Buy me a beer after the shift and let's forget the entire incident. I don't want to go through all the incident interviews and paperwork and then have some bureaucrat try to place blame on someone in the crew. It was just a Friday afternoon mistake."
She was a little late arriving at the bar and was very ill at ease. She had never fraternized with her crew and had never been in this bar. She left the painted scarf around her neck as she removed her coat. She saw Jed standing alone at a small bar height round table in a secluded dimly lit back corner of the bar. A regular height chair looked short and out of place beside the tall table. Jason waved to her and signaled the bartender for a round of beer.
"How did you know I would drink a beer?"
"My answers are going to get me in trouble with you tonight. I think I know more about you than you even know. If I'm right, you would drink beer to please me, even if you hated it."
She was shocked. How dare him say such a thing. How rude. How presumptuous. The gall.
He handed her a long-necked bottle. "Here's your beer Heather. Don't get frightened and run away yet. Keep me company."
His smile was disarming. She took a deep breath and started over.
"I really appreciate what you did this afternoon. It required lots of physical strength and saved the company lots of time and money. We should write it up so you can get credit for it."
