I love summer. I hate the heat and the humidity, especially in the City. But I do love the Summer. Dresses get shorter and heels get higher. The variety of heels and skirts that shuffle, hobble and march their way down the streets is amazing. Sure there are the skinny girls that would look good in a potato sack, but those often can't walk in heels.
A woman needs to be able to walk in heels -- not so much walk in heels as saunter, swaying gently. Not that grotesque model swaying, that looks too much like perpetual hip dislocation. Decidedly unattractive, reminding me of my own age. There needs to be enough hip movement to get the skirt moving, without deliberately blowing it up at each step. Gentle, almost unconscious, nothing deliberate about it.
And so it was summer of course when I sat in the park, enjoying my lunch break in the shade, watching those young things making their way across the park -- some more gracefully then others. I nearly skipped over her when I scanned across the park. Those big dark sunglasses that are popular now, navy blue dress, nice deep V-neck showing off her slight breasts, purse over one shoulder, looking at her phone. She had stopped in the shade to stare at her phone. I'm guessing she had a map on it, because she kept turning it in circles to find her way, before she started walking again. Her womanly hips had exactly the right amount of sway. She had a nice curvy body, unfortunately by today's standards she would have been deemed heavy-set, but I'm old school, as they say. I still like the curvy pinup girls of youth.
Let me explain, I was born in 1955, so what I remember of my youth was filled with sneaking into movies, staring at the beautiful screaming women in those old horror flicks, school obviously, went to college, went to law school, and worked my way up to partner at a small law firm. Married, no kids, not that I would have been adverse to kids, but with my ex-wife's taste for other men, she was perpetually on birth control. Just one of the things that I wished I had known in my youth -- don't marry the popular girl, she might still be popular after college.
Anyway, back to that gorgeous walk. Her dress swayed enticingly. Swishing high enough on her thighs to draw my attention, but because she wasn't the model figure, she didn't attract too many other eyes. She kept her head high, not looking down at her feet, like so many women do when they are not used to walking in high heels. Always looks like they're looking for a contact lens staring so intently at the ground. Honestly, heels are a beautiful invention -- separates the wheat of women from the chaff of mere girls. This one was a woman, a pleasure to watch. Apart from those huge sunglasses. Honestly, a stupid idea. I could not see her face apart from her soft rosy lips, again very much the pinup. Her blond hair was pinned up haphazardly, probably because of the heat. Pieces continued to fall around her face. I judged her hair to be about shoulder length. A good length, much longer and it starts getting in the way, shorter and there isn't enough to sink your hands into. Ohhhhhkay. Back to reality. She may have had womanly curves but she was still about 30 years younger than me, so that was really just my horny mind running on overtime.
She walked past me and before I could stop myself, I got up and followed her. Well, I didn't follow her, she was heading in the same direction as me anyway, so I truly wasn't following her. I'm not that desperate. So I followed her for a bit. My eyes wandered from her shoes, simple, white, sturdy heel, not dowdy though, "apparently a girl that walks in heels quite often," I remember thinking. Up her calves to the back of her knees, to the back of her thighs that flashed into view when her dress swayed. Her butt, no, not really a butt. It was wide, flaring outwards from her hips, quite pronounced, not flabby and flat, but standing out, nice and round. It was one swooping curve from her butt to her back. The back of her dress ended just above her bra, above it bare skin. Though perhaps bare is the wrong word. A large tattoo graced the space between her shoulders. Two fish, abstract, but not cartoonish. On anyone else, I would have guessed it was their astrological sign, but it didn't look like it. Then again, she hadn't looked like the sort to have tattoos in the first place. So who knew.
In the shade of the awning in front of my office building she pulled out a red cardigan, covering her back and shoulders. I was still standing behind her in the shade, when our doorman woke me out of my reverie. "Mr. Cooper, sir. Anything wrong?" Startled, I mumbled something about the heat and walked towards the door. She had finished buttoning her cardigan, rearranging her purse and dress and started for the door. We slightly bumped into each other in the doorframe. "Ladies first." I said with a smile. "Thank you." she replied clearly and with a beautiful smile. She had good manners, something sorely lacking in most people in her age range. I had been so focused on her body that I hadn't noticed that she had taken off her sunglasses and stowed them in her purse.
Her light skin had taken on a light sheen in the summer heat, and she was pleasantly flushed. She was a real blonde that was for sure, her eyebrows were as sandy blond as her hair. Her lips proved a nice contrast to her pale skin and her eyes. I couldn't quite tell what color they had been at that moment. I hoped for better look, but chances were nil. In the lobby, we both walked towards the elevator, then both waited for the elevator, got in and I asked her for her floor. "14th, please." Again with the good manners. But wait, she had said 14th floor, what was she doing on my floor. "Oh, are you a new client of ours?" With surprise she asked, "You're the Mr. Cooper?" She had been listening. She continued, "No, I wish I could afford you, I'm only looking to work for you." Her? Work for me? Oh, there were a number of things she could work on for me, but none of them involved a desk. Well, they did. But nothing I could pay her for. At least, not legally. Down boy!
The elevator doors opened, and James, one of the firm's associates, stood at the front desk, already eagerly waiting. "James, you're waiting for me at the door? Why?" James was about 20 years younger than me. We had a collegial relationship, even though much to my chagrin he still called to me as 'Mr. Cooper'. Way to make me feel old! "Um, Mr. Cooper, actually I was waiting for the young lady next to you. How are you, Nora?" He had trembled in his words.