"Penny! That's her name!" I told myself as the image of the young girl appeared dimly from out of the grey hazy depths of my memory. Suddenly, I was sitting back at the edge of the lunch counter of the HoJo's in Tempe. I was a college undergraduate in my junior year, trying to experience a social life in the midst of the never-ending routine of reading, memorizing and term paper writing.
She was absolutely lovely, having a delicate facial structure with sharp blue eyes, enhanced by thin gold eyeglass frames which drew my momentary attention, and a tight, happy smile in the middle of a mouth at seemed ready-made to wrap around a hard penis. Her brownish-blond was pulled back in a nice little pony-tail that cascaded down her back in a shower of curls to a mid-point between her shoulders and her waist. She was not tall, standing only about five foot five in her bare feet which put her just a few inches shorter than I am, but she was perfectly proportioned with hips and a 34 inch bust completely balanced by an ass sculpted like a Buns of Steele exercise video which demanded my hands be wrapped around her firm cheeks. Her legs were strong and appropriately developed, no doubt from several years of athletic exercise, and even her feet looked kissable.
It was about a month or so into the fall semester and the Valley of the Sun was still as hot at night as most places in the northern half of the country get during the day. That was why a select few of us older students would gather at the hotel restaurant counter across the street from the dorms. We could eat decent food, sample as many of the 31 flavors as we could afford, drink as much coffee as we could hold, study or talk 24 hours a day and hide from the heat in reefer-like air conditioning. The place had big windows that looked out at the south end of the campus and we could watch out for our friends or check out the opposite sex without being blatantly obvious.
That's how I saw Penney for the first time. Like most freshmen girls that fall, she was dressed in faded blue-jeans with a wear-hole in one knee and a collar-less, sleeve-less old sweatshirt at least one and maybe two sizes too large that hung passed one bare shoulder, ala-Flash Dance. I noticed her just as she half-jogged and half-bounded across the four lane street between the dorms and the restaurant. It was easy to tell that she was well-endowed and braless. Fortunately for me, I was the only person sitting at the counter right then. I had just arrived after attending a really useless English lit class. All of my usual coffee shop companions had different class schedules and would not appear for another hour or so.
After she came into the nearly empty restaurant she stopped in front of the cash register stand to look around for one of the employees. Greg, the tall, good looking and totally gay waiter who was on counter duty came out of the double swinging doors leading from the kitchen to find out what she wanted. A minute later he reached down to grab an employment application. He handed the paper to her and indicated that she should sit at the counter to fill it out. That was when she came to my end of the counter and took a seat two stools away from my perch. I silently nodded my head to her as she looked around then turned my attention back to the textbook I was reading. Every few seconds I lifted my eyes to watch her as she filled out the form. Finally she had it finished and waved for Greg to come over.
He brought the coffee pot with him and filled my cup before turning to her. That was one of the nice things about having a gay waiter, the guys always come first. Not that I was the slightest bit interested, of course. My boat just doesn't float in that direction and Greg knew it. Usually I can not abide a "swishie" guy and just about every gay male I had ever met fell into that category. All of them are rude, obnoxious, judgmental and overly opinionated. But I did enjoy talking to Greg. He was open about his orientation but not blatantly so and did not try to mask his insecurity by any aggressive or embarrassing behavior or language. His humorous outlook on life was so totally opposite mine that it was actually quite refreshing. Of course, he was not an older student trying to compete in an academic world dominated by a younger crowd.
Well, next Greg asked her if she wanted some coffee while he took her application back to the office for the manager to look over.
"Please." She responded. "Can I ask that he call me back tomorrow afternoon. I've got classes all morning."
"Well, if that's what you really want, sure, I can tell him." Greg told her. "But he might have time for you right now so why don't you wait while I find out. Old Danny here can keep you company." He added and sort of nodded his head in my direction. With that, Greg disappeared back behind the double swinging door, leaving me to look a bit sour as I was inspected by a pair of the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen.
"Yea." I said, "I'm Danny." I extended my hand to her and she lightly shook it.
"My name is Penny." She responded. "You don't look so old."
"I'll be twenty-six next month."
"Oh. That's not old. I hear that there are a lot of grad students here."
"I guess," I admitted, "but I'm still an undergrad. Four years in the Navy put me behind my high school classmates in getting through college."
"That's a bummer." She said, half looking in my direction and half watching the doors to the kitchen. "What's your major?"
It was THE standard question in college. Girls seemed to use it as a means of determining a guy's future economic potential. The guys asked each other the same question as a way of gauging the competition. I've always enjoyed the responses I get when I answer, "Geography. What's yours?"
"Fine arts. I really want to do lithography." She said with a sort of inner glow which turned into a questioning expression. "Why Geography?" Gotcha! Already I had this girl categorized and my interest was beginning to intensify. A young, fine looking arts major who applied for regular jobs braless told me at least a volume about her attitude and zest for life. This girl was definitely some one I wanted to know a lot better.
"I was an enlisted weatherman in the Navy and now I'm learning all the stuff I didn't know when I first joined up. No more ships, though. From now on I'll either be working for the government down at the national weather service in Florida or be a weatherman on TV. That is, if I don't become a professor myself. The main point being that I'll be somewhere on dry land."
"Cool." Penny responded and her face showed me signs that I had really drawn her attention.
I was about to turn the tables of our conversation on to her goals and interests when Big Mike, the assistant manager of the restaurant, came out of the kitchen with her application in his big black hand. He quickly collected her and off they went into the dark lounge which was accessed off the far end of the restaurant dining room. She managed to look back at me and wave her hand as she followed him into the lounge. I smiled at her in return and then put my nose back into my textbook. A quick check at my wristwatch told me it was about fifteen minutes later when she reappeared off my right shoulder with a big smile on her face.
"I got the job." She declared as she took the seat next to me.
