The sun beat down on the crumbling pavement as Amy parked her Camry on the street about a block down from Franco's Pizzeria where she rented the apartment above with two friends. She hit the button raising her windows back up. The AC had died last fall, but it was only when this heat wave hit that she really cared. If she could get a decent paycheck, it was on her list to have it recharged. In the meantime, she had the not-so-cool breeze blowing through her hair. With her driver's door open for air, she checked that hair in the mirror.
Normally light brown, the sun was bringing out new highlights in it. By August she would be nearly blond. It hung straight and shoulder length. Today she pulled it back in two braids from her temples to keep most of it up off her neck into a single pony. A few beads of sweat ran down the back of her neck and her dangling earrings caught the sun and sparkled. She liked how she looked today. She thought to herself, "Danny will like it too." For that matter, so would anyone who was about to see her walk down the street.
As she stood up, she brushed her hands down her dress smoothing it out. It was white with a floral print, just a few large roses scattered. Strapless, it hugged her body from her breasts, her flat stomach, and over her rounded hips, ending just above mid-thigh. At 5' 9" she had a lot of leg left uncovered before reaching her red heels. She held only a small purse and the bag from the store containing her new white stockings. They would end a few inches below the hem of this dress, just the way Danny liked. He'd been out west for a month and was coming home tonight. Amy had big plans.
Amy shared the apartment with Kate and Lisa. All three had finished college last year. Amy and Lisa had actually graduated; Kate still needed to finish the internship she quit after the boss hit on her. Amy was pretty sure Kate and Lisa had a thing for each other and had yet to admit it. Their place was a hodge-podge of rooms added on to the 2nd floor of the pizzeria. Nothing quite matched, the floors were slanted, the water pressure sucked and the stove never worked, but the pizza was good and often only cost the girls a smile. Amy entered Franco's and crossed straight through the kitchen, blowing a kiss to Franco as she stepped out back to climb the staircase up.
Franco called after her and she turned back. "Ameila!" he said, "I'm sorry, the guys are still working on my roof. They said they'd be done yesterday, but what can I do?"
"If it stops the leaks, Franco, it'll be worth it. Ciao!" She half thought that Franco wasn't even Italian. Maybe Armenian, who knows. She climbed the steps carefully.
The roof over the apartment was shingled, but half of the restaurant below had only a flat tar roof. They would often climb through the windows to sit out there and have a drink or get a little sun. She could smell the hot tar the guys were spreading over that area now. She peaked around the corner and gave them a wave. She knew they had seen her coming, just like she knew they had seen her leave earlier. Three guys, blue jeans, untied work boots, no shirts, and dripping with sweat. "What a miserable job," she thought.
Once inside, she dropped her stuff on the kitchen table and opened the fridge. The cold air felt good and for a few seconds she just stood there enjoying it, then pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured a glass. She drank some and held the glass against her neck feeling the condensation from it run down her skin. She opened the package and took out her new stockings. The material felt so smooth against her skin. Her long, freshly shaven legs will look fantastic in these. She pressed them against her cheek and imagined Danny doing the same later.
"That looks really good." Startled, Amy turned toward the screen door. One of the roofers was standing there with a towel over one shoulder. He stood about 6' and looked strong but lean. He pushed his dark hair back with the towel, attempting to dry off some of the sweat. "Think you could pour another glass?"
"Of this?" Amy said coyly, holding out her glass. She quickly folded the stockings, hiding the lace on the inside and set them down.
"Yes Mam," he said, then pulled the door open and walked right in. "I'd truly appreciate it."
Amy was taken aback but tried to play it cool. "Why don't you come in," she said sarcastically. "Help yourself." She set a glass down next to the pitcher on the table, then protectively picked up her purse and stepped back. Too late she realized her sexy new stockings were laying right there. He casually poured his glass and took a long, slow drink. Amy watching him nervously as he turned to face her. He looked her straight in the eyes, silently, for what seemed an eternity. She thought to herself, 'Wow, eye contact...', but then his gaze very purposely lowered.
She felt his eyes on her neck, suddenly warm again where her icy glass had just been. Across her shoulders and bare arms, to the top of her dress, which was the top of her breasts. Down the curve of her hips to her bare thighs. Amy anxiously switched her stance, crossing her ankles right over left now, as she leaned in the doorway to the hall. She wasn't sure how to end this and get rid of this guy. He was so cocky, just standing there staring at her. "I..., think," she stuttered to say, before he took a step toward her.
She got all jittery as he approached, pulling her arms in close as he neared. He paused to feel the stockings between his fingers.
"Are these yours?" he said. She visibly flinched as he walked right past her and pointed to her paintings in the living room. Half relieved and half disgusted with herself, she set her glass down and followed him.
"Yeah, I was preparing for a show, but it fell through." She watched as he paused at first one, then the next canvas, looking at each the way he had looked at her a minute ago. At the third, he wiped his face again with his towel and grimaced. She stepped up a step or two away from him. "Are you some kind of art critic?"
"Well," he paused, "you've got decent technique."
