Ms Rhea was the kind of client you take special care of. I remember the first time I met her.
Her car, olden model Toyota sedan, came rolling into the driveway. It was mid morning and I was working on fixing the gearbox of another client. I watched the car pull up blocking the garage entrance and then her emerging. Short, about 5'4", dressed in yoga pants and a pale pink t-shirt. Very much the hourglass figure, top heavy in the baggy shirt and the yoga pants stretched with a tight v at the front. For a guy working with the smell of oil and anti-freeze she was a vision at just the right time.
"Hello?" Her girly voice.
"Just a minute." I picked up a rag and wiped my oiled hands. The rag was oily so what's the point. I walked over to her.
"Hi, ummm, my car isn't working." She said, her brown eyes looking up at me, a little tearful and fearful.
"Oh, okay, what's the problem." I asked...probably just hasn't checked the oil in years.
"Oh there's a flashing light and the engine is making strange noises." she said, not really having any idea.
"Let's have a look sweetheart." My tone just a little condescending. She'd forgive me later.
I walked over to her car, taking an eye in over all her wonderfully larger derriere. She bent down into the car to point to the warning light. Fuck. Bent over like that gives a man ideas. She turned her head to me, her eyes dropping for just a moment, then returning to mine. Did she just check me out?
