"Have you got a spare one of those?" my colleague asked, indicating my cigarette. Without thinking I tossed her the packet, which she caught like an International cricketer. Sandi took one from the packet and mimed lighting it.
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders before fumbling in my jacket pocket until I located the lighter and threw it in an arc; and when she caught it one handed; I sarcastically applauded. The woman then placed the filter between her bright red lips and lit it like a pro and sucked in a lungful of nicotine and smoke. She stood motionless for a few seconds and with eyes tightly closed she exhaled a cloud of blue smoke into the afternoon air.
Sandi took another long drag and blew the smoke against the glowing ember at the tip of the cigarette making flecks fly I all directions.
"I didn't know you smoked". I suggested.
"I don't......well....." she held the dwindling object up for inspection, "not for a long time."
"You look like you needed that." I told her as I sat up from my slouched position on the rooftop vent that I had spent my lunchtime.
"Something like that." She sighed as she took another drag.
"Life? Love? Kids? Work?" I asked.
"Something like that." She repeated through a thin smile as she sucked the life out of the cigarette and stubbed it out in the gravel, before picking it up to dispense tidily inside the kitchen.
As she opened the fortified door she turned and said, "Thanks."
Sandi is a colleague in the furniture shop that I work in. I say colleague but she works in the office; collating the paperwork, sales figures and the finances and I, on the other hand, am Pete Dixon, 23 the Assistant Manager, and number one salesman.
Our shop is one of the older ones in a chain and quite small by modern standards; but since I arrived two years ago sales and profits have gone steadily upwards; making me the company's 'blue-eyed' boy. Selling comes naturally to me as I'm a bit of an extrovert and 'I have the gift of the gab' plus I'm 6 feet tall and six or seven years playing rugby at school and the last 5 in the gym, means I'm quite muscular too. I have my hair cut in the same style as my hero Paul Weller and just like him like to dress to impress in a Mod style.
I can't help nature but I'm one of those guys other men hate because I have an exceptionally long dick which I don't mind showing off in changing rooms.
Sandi Winter is tiny; probably about 5 feet tall and makes up for her lack of height by wearing hi-heals that give her a little wiggle when she walks and she's not afraid to show her ample cleavage off; but her killer eyes defy anyone to comment. She is always immaculately dressed, with jet black hair that reminds me of Cleopatra, perfect make up with bright red lipstick and well-manicured nails that are always either red or pink.
I only recently found out she's 36 which shouldn't have been a surprise as she has two kids that can walk and talk and dress themselves. While I work 5 out of 6 days in the shop Sandi is part-time, working 1 to 6 four days a week. Although I get on with her, she has a bit of a reputation as a hard task master; sending sales orders back if they aren't 100% correct and God help anyone who leaves crumbs or coffee stains in 'her office;' which has earned her the title of the Ice Queen or Frosty Knickers; although no-one would say them in front of her.
The next couple of hours went by quite quickly, with me making two sales and changing a window display making me ready for my coffee break at 3.15. As I lounged on the rooftop vent again, Sandi opened the kitchen door and said, "Do you mind if I join you?"
If it had been anyone else but her I'd probably have ignored them but she intrigued me.
I shrugged my shoulders and took the mini-headphones from my ears as she rested against the small wall that was opposite me, coffee in hand.
"Have you got another ciggy?" The curvaceous account smiled. I took the packet from my pocket and proffered her one, which she promptly slid between her bright red lips. I moved forward and towered above her as I lit her cigarette, which she shielded from the wind. For a brief moment I felt like Humphrey Bogart or Cary Grant.
"What are you listening to?" Sandi asked as she sipped of her coffee.
Without being patronising I explained it was some old stuff from the 60's -- Yardbirds, Small Faces, stuff like that.
She surprised me by saying her Dad had been a big fan of the Jam and Secret Affair, so she knew who the bands were.
I apologised.
We became very chatty over the next few weeks, sharing cigarettes and talking about music; her Dad even loaned me a couple of bootleg albums and occasionally she would let her guard slip and about her kids and her marriage to Tony who was quite a bit older than her and worked in a bank across town.
Her eyes would light up when she talked about her teenage years or her time at College. She never went into any details but I got the impression her younger years had been a little bit wild and she even hinted that she missed those days.
As the Summer came to an end economies were made and when my colleague Darren left e was replaced with a part-timer called Justin who was at College. This meant that on Mondays and Tuesdays I would be alone on the shop floor after 4pm and there would only be one person in the office for cashing up and more often than not this would be Sandi.
Our relationship had now become closer and even flirtatious; with Sandi apparently revelling in my stories of debauchery from the previous weekend and as I became more daring in what I said and the language I used I could see her squirming on her swivel chair and her bra couldn't hide her erect nipples either.
