For the rest of the weekend, I kept picturing that lewdly exciting scene I witnessed in the parking garage. It quickly dawned on me that I was becoming increasingly obsessed with Carla. I was anxious to go to the office, then to figure out a way to connect with her.
I knew that Carla was a smoker, because I often saw her sitting on the courtyard benches where smoking is allowed. As with most smoking areas, it was pushed off to the downwind side, under a large tree. That Monday, after a quick lunch, I went downstairs and walked across the courtyard. I saw her! She was about to light-up.
I approached the bench. When she saw me, I managed what must have been a nervous smile. I spoke. "Would you mind me sharing this bench with you?" She glanced quickly around the area, obviously noticing that there were other benches that were empty. She replied,
"Oh, not at all. That is, as long as you don't mind cigarette smoke. I'm about to light up."
"I don't mind a bit. I used to be a pack-a-day guy myself, so the smell kinda brings back fond memories. And I'd rather sit here in the shade, than bake in the sun. By the way, my name is Adam."
"Hi. I'm Carla. You look familiar. Don't I know you from somewhere?"
"I think our offices might be on the same floor. Twentieth floor, isn't it?"
"Ah yes. That must be it. I knew I saw you before."
We chatted very comfortably for a few minutes. Seeing her up-close for the first time, I took mental note. All-in-all, I found her attractive. First, she was tastefully attired in her business ensemble of a white blouse, dark slacks and a well-tailored jacket. She possessed a sparkling personality. In a word, I would describe her as vivacious and outgoing.
Her physical attributes were very much to my liking. I have always been attracted to large, soft and full-figured women. And I have a special "thing" for older, mature-minded ones. (I'm quite sure that I have had this predilection because of something that I experienced when I was eleven years old. That event also led to my first masturbation. But that's a long story, better left for another time.)
As the week progressed, I actively sought more time with Carla, at the only place I knew she might be. We spoke easily, freely and openly about a wide range of topics - from the weather to more exotic subjects. One thing struck me as being unusual. While her overall countenance might be described as "ladylike," certain vulgarities flowed from her lips quite easily, with a fluidity borne of familiar and frequent use of such words.
In time, Carla and I became quite familiar with each other. There was only one subject that I meticulously avoided, which was anything having to do with age. This was as my guiding rule whenever I had any interaction with an older woman. I had a feeling that she had some appreciation of my reluctance to "go there."
So she surprised me, one day, when out of the blue, she asked me, "How old are you, Adam?" When I told her that I was 30, she rolled her eyes and said, "Oh shit! Both of my kids are older than you. I probably started having puffy cunt lips from before you were born! Geezus fucking Christ! 30?" The way she delivered her feigned tirade, I knew she was joking, and it gave me a chuckle. Then, in a more somber tone, she continued.
"But seriously, Adam. I love your company, but I can't figure out why a young guy like you would even bother hanging out with a fat old bag like me? Maybe you feel pity for a flabby old broad like me? Just talking to you I can tell that you could have just about any young lady you want. Are you gay or something?" I laughed at the thought and responded.
"No no, Carla. I am definitely not gay. And I don't know why you see yourself as a 'fat old bag.' Personally, I find you very attractive." With that, I saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open. I guessed that she was surprised to hear what I said, that being that I found her attractive. She was about to say something, but I cut her off.
