It was a hot summer's day, around six months ago, when I first saw Nesrin, a new recruit in the Claims department at my insurance firm, going through the induction training. I was chatting to an accountant colleague, Steve, as she walked through our department towards the training room. As she walked through, we both stopped our conversation to look at her. Roughly 5' 9" tall and in her mid-twenties, she was very curvaceous, walking with a confident flow that caused her long hazelnut hair to sway and lift off her shoulders before returning, stroking her smooth tanned skin. She had dark brown eyes, and hardly any make-up, allowing her natural beauty to show itself. She was wearing a red halter neck top and black trousers that concealed a beautiful figure -- I guessed she was a size 14 with maybe 38E breasts -- and to me big is beautiful! I couldn't help but gaze at her as she walked past us. Her rounded bum stretched the fabric of her trousers and filled them with a most delicious shape as it wiggled inside. The halter neck had just left the top of her trousers enough for me to spy a small tattoo at the base of her back, but she wasn't close enough for me to see what it was.
For our sins, both Steve and I thought exactly the same thing as soon as the door was closed -- although it was Steve who actually said it, "A man-eater if ever I saw one." I simply smiled at him and went back to work. Over the next few days she would walk past my desk regularly in and out of that room, until the training was finished and she disappeared to her new desk downstairs.
I hardly saw her again until around two months ago when she asked me for help tracing a payment to a client. We exchanged emails relating to the query but once I had resolved it and she had thanked me I couldn't resist asking her how she was settling in, trying to get to know her a little. She said she was enjoying life with the company and I popped one back down asking her about her name, as it was one I'd never heard before. She explained that Nesrin was a Turkish name, given to her by her father who came to England and married her English mother, and despite the Turkish name she had lived in England all her life. I told her that I thought her name was beautiful and she thanked me again. From then on, on the rare occasions that we did see each other face to face I would always smile at her and exchange the usual pleasantries -- usually a simple "good morning". We would have a few more email exchanges as she asked me for help with other problems she encountered day-to-day, and she always seemed very polite and friendly -- quite the opposite one would expect from a "man-eater".
A couple of months ago we decided that the Finance team, where I was based, should move downstairs to give more room for the expanding Sales team and fill an empty office off the main Claims room. After a couple of weeks we decided that the space was a little too cramped, so we arranged for the partition walls to come down, leaving us all in a big open space, although I still sat some distance away from Nesrin.
One recent Saturday, I was doing some overtime trying to get some accounts ready for head office. I was alone in Finance and there were three working the Saturday evening shift in Claims that was about to end. I decided I needed a tea break as I still had a fair bit of work to get through before I would feel comfortable enough to leave the rest to do on Monday morning. The claims guys were packing up for the evening and I heard the unmistakable sound of high heel shoes on the kitchen's lino floor surface. I turned to see Nesrin bringing her cup into the kitchen to rinse it out. She stood at the sink and started to rinse, half-heartedly smiling at me, 'Hi Andy, you okay?' 'I'm fine thanks, how about you? Working late again? You always seem to be here, and I thought I was around quite a bit!' 'Yeah, I could do with the extra money really.'
It suddenly struck me that yes, she was around here a hell of a lot and the extra work was taking its toll. She was still gorgeous, but her eyes didn't seem to sparkle as they once had. 'You out on the town tonight, then?' I asked. 'Saturday night is party night.' 'No, not tonight. A night in front of the telly is all I seem to do these days.' 'These days?' I enquired. 'I was under the impression that you girls in Claims were always out on the razz together?' She smiled, and continued to work the sponge into her cup. I ran my gaze along her arms to her shoulders, her hair that hid part of her face from me. With it being Saturday and the company's dress code therefore not so strictly enforced, she was able to display her spectacular fashion sense. She was wearing a slightly off-white ankle length skirt and a dazzling multi-coloured wrap style top. The garments, as every garment she ever wore, accentuated her glorious figure to the maximum. While my eyes took in her incredible curves, I was oblivious to the kettle that had boiled at some point during.
She sensed me looking at her and she turned her head to look at me, and I tried to make it look as though I had been making the tea all along, but in my panic I caught the mug with a trailing hand, knocking the tea bag out and sugar all over the surface. She giggled at my predicament and I felt even more foolish once she branded me a 'clumsy oaf'. After a moment of embarrassment I responded by laughing with her. Eventually our laughter subsided and I said, 'That's the ticket.' Her face fell into a more serious look and she replied, 'What do you mean?' 'I mean you've got a beautiful smile and I really like seeing it. It isn't around very much these days. You're working far too hard.' 'That sounds like the pot calling the kettle black to me. You are here as much as me.' 'But I've got good reason to,' as I nodded my agreement. 'Don't have much else to do but go back to an empty flat.'
