I looked at my friend Thomas as I chewed the last bite of my hamburger. "No, I'm afraid I can't make it tomorrow," I said. "I know that Saturday is your only free day, but it'll have to be next week. I promised my neighbor I would help her with some minor chores tomorrow."
"That's quite all right," Thomas replied. "I guess I'll see you in 8 days then. I have to run, got to hit the books now so that I'm finished before Sunday."
I nodded as Thomas pushed himself away from the table. "Bye, Jerry," he said as he waved. I waved back at his departing figure.
I signaled for the check as my waiter passed by. Paying the bill, I headed out to walk the 3 blocks to my room-for-rent. I was lucky to find the place, which I furnished in a Spartan manner β a bed and a dresser. (The owners of the house were nice enough to let me have a towel rack in the bathroom for my shower towel and part of the refrigerator for any food I might buy.) It was only 5 blocks from the Northwestern campus in Evanston, and was barely affordable for a college student living on nothing but financial aid. I had enough money to pay rent and live on Ramen, like all good college students. Once a week (Fridays) I would meet Thomas in the local greasy spoon for dinner (cheap burgers): we alternated paying. Normally, we would meet on Saturdays to play chess.
My social life consisted of these once-per-week meetings: I was majoring in biology, which left little time for anything else. Dating was impossible unless the girl would finance it. This particular Saturday, I had volunteered to do some chores for the older woman who owned the house next to the one where I was renting a room: she would pay me $10/hr, which would provide a good month's worth of spending money for me. Her name was Melanie Jenkinson: I had met her once before -- when I moved in she had introduced herself. I knew nothing about her besides her name.
I decided to turn in early. I figured a hard day of housework might tire me out quickly if I wasn't properly rested. I took a shower, relaxed with a chess book I had taken out of the campus library two days before, and at 11:30 p.m. turned out the lights and went to bed. The next morning, I got up bright and early, having set my watch alarm for 8 a.m. sharp, and dressed in my "chore clothes": a pair of old jeans and an old white T-shirt. I figured there was no point in dirtying my nice stuff. I headed next door to Melanie's house.
I knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Melanie greeted me warmly. "Hi, Jerry!" she said with enthusiasm. "Come on in! I'm so glad you agreed to help me!"
I smiled back at her. "I'm happy to do it," I said. "I could sure use the cash, plus it's nice to help out people."
She closed the door and locked it behind us as we entered. I didn't think much of it, but I was a bit surprised to see that all the curtains in the house were drawn. "You afraid of the sun?" I asked her jokingly.
"No," she replied, "but I prefer living in twilight: since I was young, my eyes have been very sensitive to bright light."
"I see," I responded. "So what should I do first?"
"I recommend that you start by dusting the den," she said, "while I get into my maid's costume and vacuum."
"You don't have to do that," I commented. "After all, you're hiring me to do that stuff for you."
"Don't be silly," she answered. "There's a lot of stuff to do, and it would take one person the whole weekend! Of course I'll help out. You get started now." I decided to take her advice, and began to dust. Melanie went upstairs.
A few minutes later, she was back. "What do you think?" she asked me. "Is this a good maid's outfit?" I turned to look at her, and was stunned by what I saw.
She was dressed in a tiny black leather miniskirt, coming about 1/4 of the way down her thighs. Her long, well-muscled legs were displayed to perfection. Her bare midriff didn't have an ounce of fat on it. Her skimpy white blouse was cut so low that her massive breasts almost popped right out of it. I could see her nipples pressing up against the thin fabric. Her arms were almost as big around as my legs, and her muscles were perfectly cut in diamond shapes. Her short, salt-and pepper hair looked very military. She looked like she could take on a grizzly bare-handed and come out victorious. I was amazed at how much sex appeal she had. I couldn't speak as I drank in her muscular, beautiful body.
"Well, do I meet with your approval?" she asked teasingly.
I managed to stammer out, "Yes, that outfit looks terrific, Miss Jenkinson."
"Please call me Melanie," she said. "I'm not a schoolteacher. I'm a friend who needs help with my house."