Part 1: First Flash of Ginger Fire
I work in an unremarkable multi-story office building in a nondescript office park in southern California. Fortunately, thanks to being general counsel for a small tech company I have a private office for those "privileged and confidential" conversations. It affords me a decent view of the surrounding buildings and neighborhood, so I often idly scan the environment with a pair of binoculars.
I know enough about birds and wildlife that no one questions the large brass naval binoculars on a tripod at the window that I keep pointed towards the neighboring wetland and wildlife preserve.
I first saw her one Sunday afternoon, stuck on a call with an Australian company. My only job was to make sure that Sales didn't screw anything up, which I was fairly confident they wouldn't. The buyers are so many time zones ahead of us over there in the Down Under that it was already Monday morning for them.
I could have just dialed in from home, but it was a short bike ride and a nice afternoon. No one would be in, so the office would completely quiet, not even a cleaning crew to disturb. I idly skimmed the neighboring office buildings with a compact pair of binoculars, but they were completely vacant. I looked over the ornamental bushes into a neighboring subdivision, but the glare of the afternoon sun was too great to see anything interesting. And no one ever tanned naked on the tiny second floor balconies.
The phone call droned on about prices and IT support options.
I had parked my bike in the bike room, so the parking lot was completely empty, that is, until she rolled in. Black convertible, black interior, dark sunglasses, and coppery red hair.
She circled the parking lot, then backtracked to a spot in the middle of the parking, where a few trees and bushes obscured the view from the road. She got out of the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger seat, flirtatiously swishing her black-and-white print dress from side to side. She wasn't alone.
She coaxes a man about her age out of the car. He seems a bit confused what they are doing here, but she seems to know exactly what she wants.
She puts both hands on his lapels and pulls herself up to kiss him, standing on her tiptoes in black flats.
He hesitantly returns her embrace, still clearly a bit confused what her plan is. But he finally wraps his arms around her lower back, and it's not long before he's squeezing and jiggling her shapely bottom.
She breaks away for a moment and leans into the car, I assume to turn up the radio. Both he and I admire her pale legs as the dress flutters in the gentle breeze. She digs around for something in the console with one hand, then she looks back, wiggles her ass at him, and laughs.
She comes back to him, adjusting something in her cleavage and holding a large cellphone in her right hand. She clutches the phone as she wraps her right arm around his waist and her left hand moves towards downward to his groin. They start to rock and turn a little, as they sway to the music. Her head is close to his ear, she is probably whispering her plan to him.
They've turned about a quarter turn in this slow dance, so I can see she is indeed groping him through some loose fitting shorts that are starting to signs of erection. I don't blame him, I have one too.
I triple check that my camera for the video call is off and that my interior windows are set to opaque for privacy. I get up and check that the door is locked. But I don't want to move the tripod, because I'd have to be close enough to the window that they might see me.
I sit on the edge of my desk and focus in on the amorous couple. He looks like what some might call Daddy. Not yet middle age, but some salt and paper hair. He is wearing a long-sleeve blue athletic shirt that shows off some well-defined muscles.
She has pulled away from him, planting the phone firmly in his hand. She gives a little twirl, stopping with her back towards him and gesturing to start filming.
He gestures back with his hands, probably saying something to the effect, "What, here?"
