Caroline and I had worked together for over four years. In that time we had gotten to know each other very well. It might have helped that we went to the same college and knew each other from that time forward. Now here we were, both 27 years old, and working at the same company, although in very different divisions.
She was in the computing science department. I was in accounting. Still, through some small twist of fate, our offices were just around the corner from each other. Through the years we had ascended up our respective corporate ladders and had landed our own offices, as opposed to having to slave away in Cubicle Land, as we liked to call the shared office space.
When we were in Cubicle Land we saw a lot of each other. To be fair, we saw a lot of everyone on the floor. That's what happens when there are no walls taller than five feet. When we got our offices, nearly at the same time-another twist of fate-we decided to celebrate our promotions by going out to dinner together.
"When should we go out?" I asked her.
"How about on Saturday night? The UCLA game is on and we can go out to Maloney's and have a beer, eat and watch the game."
That sounded like a great idea and I readily accepted. Caroline is one of those rare females who like to watch sports. I always considered that the edge that put her over the top in comparison to most of the women I know. Her looks don't hurt her, either. She stands five feet, six inches tall, which puts her about two inches shorter than me. Her shoulder length auburn hair is light and moves easily with the wind, she often sways her head when we're outside and the effect is mesmerizing. She has a medium build, which to me is perfect. I hate the women who are too thin, the I'll Just Have The Salad type of woman.
Still, it's obvious that she works out, at least lightly. When she wears a sundress or short skirt, I can't see any evidence of cellulite on her thighs, and their shape is quite streamlined. Her breasts aren't large, probably in between a B and C cup, but they are perky and stand to attention. I don't think she'll have a problem with sagging when she's older. Her nipples can get as big as pencil erasers. In our office the air conditioner is always on overdrive, and on the days she wears silk blouses, I can see her pointing north all day.
"Is Skip coming?" I asked. Skip is her husband. A real geek, as I remember. He was a comp-science major at UCLA, and hooked up with her early in our freshman year, before Caroline and I met. I never understood what Caroline saw in him, but that all happened before I knew her so I can't intelligently comment on their relationship.
"No," she said, "he's got a conference at Sun Microsystems this weekend. I thought it'd be nice to have dinner, just the two of us, and talk. We haven't had one of our nice, long talks in a while."
"Deal," I said, "Saturday night it is."
I was on pins and needles, anxiously waiting for Saturday to arrive. The rest of the workweek was pure torture, although I did get to see Caroline every day, which made the time pass a little better. On several occasions she mentioned how she couldn't wait for Saturday night, how excited she was. That only further fueled my excitement.
"Excited for the game?" I asked. Our football team had a knack for being perennially mediocre, but the new coach had instilled a winning attitude in the program, and this Saturday's game was a contest to determine who would be in the lead in the PAC-10 conference.
"Not just for the game, silly rabbit. I'm excited to see you. We haven't done anything outside of work in a while."
That was true. When we were undergraduates, we used to hang out all the time. Thinking back on it, I didn't see a whole lot of Skip back then either. He was always busy with schoolwork, internships, and interviews-the kind of thing that landed him a nice six-figure-salary job. I guess I was Caroline's surrogate boyfriend. We never did get intimate, but we did hang out a lot and do things together. If I happened to be dating someone, Caroline never failed to befriend her so that she would feel comfortable when Caroline and I went out together.
Ever since we started working together, however, our time has been spent concentrating on our respective jobs. We saw each other regularly at the office. We spent breaks together talking about life and loves, my loves, anyway since she was married and had nothing to say on that front. I had dated a steady stream of girls for the last five years, but none became too serious. Caroline accused me of having commitment phobia, but I insisted that I had never found the right person.
Once, she asked, "Why haven't you found Mrs. Right yet? What kind of girl are you looking for?"
I gave the question some thought, and when I couldn't find the answer, I jokingly replied, "Someone like you, of course!"
She got quiet and didn't have anything to say in response to that. Sensing a little uneasiness, I lightly punched her in the shoulder to show her I was kidding and said that I didn't really know what I wanted in a woman.
"Well, I hope someday you find her," she said, with her eyes down-not looking at me.
"Me too," I replied, and that was the end of that conversation.
Saturday morning I got the phone call that anyone who is going out on a date dreads. The one where the other person says they can't go. That's got to be one of the worst phone calls imaginable, just short of someone telling you that a loved one died.
"Hey Carl," I recognized her voice instantly and my heart sank, "I have some bad news."
"Don't tell me," I said, trying to hide the deflated feeling I was experiencing, "you can't go tonight."
"Yeah, that's right. I can't go to Maloney's. My mother's sick and I told her that I'd be home in case she needed anything."
"Of course, stay home, your mom...well, she's your mom!"
"You don't mind?" she asked, sounding a little surprised.
"Of course not, we can spend time together some other night."
"Yeah, but I was really hoping to watch the game with you tonight. I really enjoyed it when we used to go to the football games together in college. Remember that?"
"How could I forget?" I said, "Some of my best college memories were drinking beers and getting rowdy in the student section with you."
"Good times," she mused. She sounded like she was reliving the memories just like I was. "Hey! I've got an idea! Why don't you watch the game over here?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your mom's sick and all..."
"So what? She's really independent and strong willed. She won't call me unless she's on her deathbed, and I think she's only got a strong cold. Chances are we won't be interrupted. And if we are, I'll just do whatever errand she needs me to do and be back in no time. She's just down the street and the pharmacy is less than a mile away. You're a big boy, I trust that I can leave you alone at the house for a few minutes, if I have to."
"Okay, let's do it. Should I get some food on the way over there?"
"Nah, how about I just order pizza?"
"Pepperoni, mushroom and olives?"
"Just like old times back at the dorm," she said, and I could imagine her winking at me the way she does at the office when we recall something from the past. "You remember the way over here?"
"Sure do," I said, "See you at five? Kickoff's at seven so that should give us plenty of time to eat and drink before the game."
"Five it is."
The next six hours crawled by. It seemed like six days. Finally I got into the car and headed over to Caroline's. I had that excited feeling in the pit of my stomach, butterflies or something, and I told myself that I was a fool for feeling this way. This was Caroline, after all, the definition of the F word: Friend. Any chance I had at romance had died long before I knew her, back when Skip made his move. The thought began to depress me, but I pushed it away. I was not going to ruin a good night of food and football just because I wasn't going to get any.
When I got to the house, Caroline answered the door. What she had on made my jaw drop and my mouth water. I drank her in from the bottom, up. She wore high heels, an odd selection since we were staying home, but I wasn't about to complain. Her skirt was black and ended about mid-thigh, exposing just enough to be alluring, but not too much to be considered inappropriate. But the cincher was her silk white blouse. It was of high quality material, and it was basically as thin as it could possibly be. Even though they weren't erect, I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. Her hair was down around her shoulders, which was a nice contrast to the way she always wore it at work, which was up in a bun.
"Hello stranger," she said in a sultry voice. She was leaning against the door with one hand above her head. I couldn't have pictured a more beautiful sight to begin the evening.
"Hello lovely lady!" I was smiling from ear to ear.
"Care to come inside?" she asked.
"Boy, would I?" I said. I couldn't think of anything else witty to say. She didn't seem to mind my stupid reply.
"Don't just stand there in the cold, then, come on inside where it's warm." There was that wink I envisioned when we were talking on the phone. My heart melted. I knew that I was in for disappointment if I started thinking 'those thoughts' but I couldn't help myself. At that point she could have asked me to jump of a bridge and my only question would have been "which one?"
She took my coat and hung it in the closet. I felt underdressed compared to her; I only had my Levis and a cotton, long sleeve shirt. At least it was collared.
I think she sensed my uneasiness because she then said, "Don't worry, you look fine," and gave me a big smile.
The first thing I noticed was the dining room table. It had two candles lit in the center, with two place settings already prepared. They weren't across the table from each other, but rather were on adjacent sides so as to be closer to one another.
"Isn't that a little bit, um, overkill for pizza?"
