"Do you work for the city?" the cute, blonde 30-something woman asked me with a tinge of irritation.
As much as I didn't want to admit it, I did. I had two degrees in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering, including a teaching credential in Secondary Education. I was actually the head of Pottsburgh's Park Maintenance. I nodded my head and picking up my wrench stood up from the ground where I had been trying to fix the sprinkler head in Park's park.
"Well then maybe you can help me," she started and stopped. She was gauging me for something and looked like she was trying to find the right words. While she did, I checked her out myself and was impressed. She stood about 5'5 and 115 pounds and was wearing a cute blue flower-print sundress. She was wearing brown leather sandals that wrapped and tied high on her ankles. Her bare feet were small and cute and her toes were painted pink. She wasn't wearing a bra or at least a very thin fabric one as her large C cup breasts and eraser-tip nipples pressed hard against the fabric of her sundress. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail and her eyes hid behind rose colored sunglasses.
I shrugged my shoulders and waited for her to continue. Taking my hands, I wiped them front and back on my faded blue maintenance jump suit.
"You were saying?" I stated as I watched her bite her lip as she thought hard. Her lips were full and I wondered if she had had them injected. I liked her shade of lipstick. It went well with her dress.
"Have you been in the women's room?" she asked and she seemed to cringe.
"No," I said assuredly. I wondered what she might be getting at. I looked at her and asked, "Why?"
"Well," she seemed to stammer as she looked from side to side as if she wanted to make sure we were the only ones around to hear what she had to say next. We were standing out in the middle of ball field behind the public restrooms. There were people in the park, a few mothers watched their kids playing on the jungle gym and swings a few hundred feet away to our right. An old man looked like he was a sleep on the bench under a tree 100 feet or so to our left. If they could hear us they would have had to have some sort of advanced listening device and I couldn't see any.
"Well," she repeated and her voice grew weak. "Well someone has," she stated and looked around again but this time continued. "Someone has cut holes on either side of the ladies stalls," she finished and seemed like she was proud of her ability to get it out and on the record.
"Really?" I asked. My mind trying to picture a women's stall and the holes she was claiming to have found there. "Are you sure someone hasn't knocked the toilet paper reel off the wall, ripping out the screws?" I asked, searching for an explanation.
"Maybe," she responded liking my possible explanation and then shook her head and exclaimed, "No, no the toilet paper reels are still there." She looked around again and professed to know how the holes were made and what they were for. "The holes are for, I mean I think the holes are for sex," she blurted out and studied my face for effect. Again she looked proud of her assertion.
"What?" I asked, befuddled. I watched her face and I could tell she was a little frustrated. She smiled and I listened for her soft sell. She looked from side to side again apparently still not convinced we were alone in the park. She took a deep breath and put on an air of 'knowing' and began to tell me what she knew and what she thought.
"I'm Alexis Cartwright, people call me 'Lexi,' I'm the wife of mayor Cartwright," she pointed out first, offering her hand. It was soft and smelled of lotion when I shook it.
"I think they are called 'Gloryholes'," she stated. Her statement was followed with an explanation that would make any English teacher proud. She told me the holes were for oral sex and she told me that they were popular with the 'gays.' She was pleased with her knowledge and told me how guys stuck their 'things' through the holes and guys or as in this case probably women 'serviced' them. I was laughing inside at her use of various words, the 'gays,' and how when she was explaining how the guys or in this case women serviced them, her right hand made a tight circle and moved slowly up and down ever so slightly at her side. She told me it was indecent and couldn't believe it was happening right here in our fair city.
"Really!" I exclaimed and apologized for not knowing that the walls of the women's stalls had been damaged. I told her I would definitely look into it and make sure that they were fixed. I told her that I have never seen guys going in the women's restroom but I would definitely watch out for any suspicious behavior. I must have appeased her as Lexi smiled and thanked me for being so concerned and told me she'd tell her husband that I was doing a great job.
I thanked her for pointing out the problem said I appreciate any good word with any of my superiors. I watched her saunter away and how her sundress hung snugly to her tight little ass. Alexis Cartwright was Mayor Ronald Cartwright III's trophy wife. She was 31 and Ole Ronnie was 57. His family owned nearly 50% of Pottsburgh, Missouri. Lexi reached her black 2005 Mercedes as I reached for my cell phone and pressed 4 for my top assistant Larry. She paused before climbing in the front seat and waved 'goodbye'. I waved back as Larry came on the line.
"Hey Larry," I said as Lexi swung her car out of its parking space and headed for the exit from the park. I couldn't be sure but she looked like she was looking at her rearview mirror as she drove. "Yeah, a young woman just told me there are gloryholes in the walls of the stalls in the women's restroom," I told him and added, "Guess what? She's the mayor's wife!"
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