I sit upright as he enters the room. Taller and darker than Brad Pitt but he has the same facial features. He takes a seat directly across from mine in the large room, opens a note book and writes as he glances around the room. Instantly aroused, I squirm in my seat of the Richland Memorial Hospital waiting room. He looks up from his writing and our eyes lock. We smile at each other. He returns to his writing. I walk across the room and sit beside him.
"I'm Pamela Tanner; don't I know you from somewhere?" I smile and stare into his brown eyes.
He returns my smile. "Isn't that my pick-up line?"
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it to sound like that."
He laughs." It's okay Pamela. We've never met because I never forget a beautiful lady. I'm Ken Burns." He offers his hand.
I blush and place my hand in his. "Thanks for the compliment. You look so familiar." His hand is warm and soft. His touch is a thrill.
"It happens all the time. I'm a Brad Pit look alike, and you remind me of Jessica Workman, a Playboy Cyber girl."
"Thanks again, but I don't know her." I squeeze his hand.
He squeezes back. "I wouldn't expect you too. What are you doing here?"
I want to say to meet him but instead, "My brother was in a motor cycle accident. We don't know how bad he's hurt. That's my parents over there." I indicate them with my other hand, because I wasn't going to let go of his.
With a look of concern he said, "I hope his injuries are minor. My kid brother fell out of a tree and broke his arm. They'll probably set it here, put him in a cast, and discharge him."
"The Tanner family," a voice calls.
"Oh, I have to go." Pamela jumps up and walks toward the voice followed by her parents.
She turns and as she disappears she says "Ken, I'm in the phone book."
* * *
Ken smiles at her statement. He writes her name beside the notes he has in his notebook:
beautiful, frosted brunette Pamela
transparent blouse with a red bra – wow!
busty @ least a D cup
slender and tall
jean shorts, nice legs
black sandals
The first thing he sees when he enters the waiting room is her breasts. Incredible, he says to himself and tokes notes as soon as he sits. He glances around the room several times to record as many of her details as possible. She could become a character in a future story.
He remembers the heat of her body, the smell of her perfume, and the softness of her hand. The fiddle back shape and heart-shaped ass swaying away from him he wouldn't soon forget. While he waits for his brother, he picks up a phone book from the nurses' station. He scans down the page: Tanner, Tanner, Tanner Pamela: 1140 Risdon Way, Apartment 303 F, 29223, 803-736-4545. He memorizes the address and phone number, and he adds it to his notes just in case.
His parents and brother emerge through a door; his brother's left forearm in a cast. "What's the story?"
"Six weeks in the cast and then a soft cast for a while," his mother says.
"Ken, isn't this the coolest cast. I can't wait to get it autographed by my classmates."
He's glad Tommy is all right but his thoughts are about the voluptuous Pamela.
* * *
"My brother has no major injuries from the motorcycle accident which pleases me, but Ken's tall, muscular body, handsome good looks consume my thoughts. I wonder what he looks like dressed up or undressed. His writing indicates he's educated and probably has a good job. His concern for his brother is a sign of a caring person. I hope my clothing choice didn't make him think I'm a redneck.
Visions of him fill my dreams. I spent Sunday taking a long bath, shaving, and lounging in a halter top and shorts in front of the TV. I don't think he'll call today but it would be nice.
By five thirty, I think about eating because TV is boring. The phone rings. I jump off the couch. It might be him. My stomach turns into knots. I pick up the phone. It's my mother calling to tell me about Johnny's condition. Disappointed, I listen, express my pleasure that he is recuperating well, and thank her for calling. I just step into the kitchen when the phone rings again. What did mom forget to tell me?
Being in the kitchen, I couldn't reach the phone until it rang seven times. I pick up the phone. No one is there but the Caller ID reads Ken Burns.
* * *
I pace the floor all day. I want to call but it's too soon. Maybe I should wait till tomorrow. I walk back and forth and all I see during my wandering is her beautiful face, the red bra beneath a yellow blouse. I wonder what she looks like naked. I visualize what I expect--want to see. My desire over comes my reluctance. I dial 736-4545. The phone rings. The line is busy. Is she talking to a boyfriend? Damn! I get the courage to call and she's talking to someone else. I got to the living room to watch TV. Every woman in the program and in the commercials looks like Pamela.
I can't stand it any longer. I dial her number a second time. The phone rings. No one answers. After seven rings I close my cell. Damn, I say to myself and return to my pacing. Disappointment would be an understatement for how I feel. I think I'll go to the gym.
The phone rings.
I pick up the phone. It's Pamela. I try to calm myself.
"Hello."
"Ken this is Pamela returning your call. I wasn't able to get to the phone in time."
"I apologize for calling on Sunday afternoon, but I didn't want to wait any longer."
"It's okay. I'm not doing anything special and hopped you'd call."
"That's good to hear. Is it too late for me to ask to take you for a cup of coffee or dinner?"
"I'd love dinner. I was about to prepare a meal."
"Great! How soon can you be ready?"
"About twenty minutes. Do you know where I live? How long will it take you to get here? What should I wear?"
Ken thought of her red bra but rather said, "I have your address on my GPS. It's about a thirty minute trip. I don't really have a dinner plan. What would you like?"