Love and the Southern Californian Workaholic

It was cold and miserable, and it was snowing, just as it had every day since I arrived in town. I hadn’t seen the sun the whole time I had been here and, other than a few business meetings, that I had come to attend, I kept myself locked up in my hotel to keep from freezing to death. This definitely felt like the longest business trip that I have had the misfortune of taking.1

God this place is making me crazy. I miss the Sun. I can almost feel my Coppertone Tan fading with every day that passes. I can’t live without the sun - literally. Summer is my life, or more precisely, summer wear. I sell swimsuits and summer accessories. I know this doesn’t appear to be the best time for me to be in Detroit selling Beach Towels and Bikinis to people running around in parkas, but looks are seldom what they appear. This is in fact my busiest time of the year as the major department stores make their purchases at least six months ahead of the summer season.2

I hadn’t planned to stay so long in Detroit, but my four-day business trip had turned into a two-week experiment in sun-deprivation as the foul weather had caused the airports to cancel all flights, in and out. Just my luck, the second day of December and already the coldest day ever recorded for the month. So, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, sitting in the hotel’s pub had become my favorite pastime and tonight was no different as I had been in my usual booth, by the fireplace, for most of the evening. 3

Sipping my beer and flipping through my women’s swimsuit catalog, I realized that in the two weeks I had been in Detroit, I hadn’t seen the delicate curves of a woman’s bare shoulder or the sleek lines of a pair of tanned, sexy legs. Here in Michigan, women have to dress to survive the weather not to enjoy it, which is the main reason why I hate anywhere that is cold.4

Raising my empty glass in the air, I signaled to the waitress that I needed another beer. It was my third if I remembered correctly. Hell, I’m not going anywhere I, might as well get drunk. 5

Half intoxicated, I sat in my booth working, (I’m always working), going over my recent purchase orders and I watched as the boisterous Happy Hour crowd came, went, and was replaced by the melancholy of the late night drinkers. It wasn’t until I had finished my fifth beer, or was it my sixth or seventh, that I noticed that the late crowd had dwindled down to myself and a woman, who was seated in the booth cattycorner to mine. I only knew it was a woman because I heard her speaking to the waitress, I couldn't see her because of the partition between our booths. I assumed that she had arrived while I was concentrating on the very impressive figures on the bottom line of my order forms – very impressive. I think I shall have another drink to celebrate the fruit of my work-aholisim.6

“If you keep drinking like this, I am going to have to confiscate your driver’s license,” the waitress joked as she placed a fresh brew on my table.7

“That’s fine. I don’t need a car to get to where I want to go,’ I said.8

“Oh, where it that?”9

“The bottom of this glass of beer,” I said, as I chugged down the remnants of my beer, making room for the fresh one she had just delivered. She laughed as she glanced out the window to the falling snow that floated like insects around the glowing streetlight, her smile quickly disappearing. She was no doubt a summer person like me and I couldn’t resist the temptation to look her over as she stared out into the cold winter night. She was young, could use a tan, petite, very cute, and from under her tight fitting slacks, apron, and a long sleeved blouse I could tell that she also had a very shapely figure. Hmm, nice body, with just a little bit of a tummy, I think she would look perfect in one of my Tankini swimsuits, model number 05507753. DAMN! There I go again, always thinking about work. 10


The waitress moved lazily over to the next booth where she shared a few friendly words as she served the woman some wine from the bottle she carried that was wrapped in a towel. It was then that I saw what I had been missing since coming to this God forsaken frozen wasteland. 11


From below the table where the waitress stood, were a pair of the loveliest calves I had ever seen, flowing out from below a dark business length skirt. They were long, slightly muscular, beautifully toned, complimented by a pair of black high heel shoes that were so perfectly fitted to a dainty pair of feet that they looked as if they were painted on. Staring at them dreamily, I wondered how her feet would look in a pair of sandals, catalog number . . . 12

"NO MORE WORK!" I screamed to myself. 13

Barefoot, now that’s better, barefoot and walking beside me through the warm sand of a California beach.14

Being the only two patrons left in the pub, I was free to gaze at the woman’s legs as they seduced me. “Free?” Whom am I kidding? I was anything but free. She had enslaved me, kind of the same way I enslave my prospective clients by promising them one of my Swimsuit Calendars for enduring through my presentation. Just like them, I was googly-eyed and as attentive as a dog in heat. She tortured me to the point of insanity as she crossed her legs at her naked ankles and rubbed them against each other in long flowing strokes as if in some erotic mating ritual.15

Maybe it was the sultry mood of the quiet pub or the flickering glow of the candles on our tables that caused me to feel so amorous, maybe it was the beer. I only knew that I was in love with this woman, even though I had only seen her legs and her hands.16

Ah, but what lovely hands they were. If I sold gloves I imagine that an expensive pair, made of the supplest leather, would be what I would suggest to her. 17

Damn, there I go again! I hate how my work keeps getting in the way of my personal life. 18

Now where was I? 19

Oh yeah, her hands. Her hands were poetry in motion, a wonder to behold as they sensuously caressed her crystal goblet letting the stem slip between her fingers, gently stroking it as she massaged its length. 20

In flowing motions, she swirled the wine and I watched the glistening liquid rise perilously close to the brim, and then she raised it out of my sight. I could only imagine seeing the wine flow seductively over her red lips, painted with Maybelline’s SPF 15, Moisture Extreme Lipstick, Candid Apple, no, Wine on Ice . . . 21

STOP IT!!! I said as I beat the side of my head with my fist.22

Rescuing me, before I was able to inflict serious injury to myself, she returned the goblet to the table. As she held the glass, I noticed the complimenting contrast of the dark Merlot to that of her perfectly shaped, white tipped nails. The translucent pink polish that she wore gave her hands had an air of sophistication and femininity. Thankfully, I don’t know anything about nail polish, but I do sell a nice hand moisturizing lotion that...23

ARGH, I must be going insane! 24

Anyway, going back to her hands, it was also plain to see that this mysterious woman was a true wine coinsurer as she kept her fingers on the stem of her goblet, never touching the bowl, which would raise the temperature of the wine, telling me that she possessed elegance and sophistication.25

Once again, she swirled the wine in her goblet, hypnotizing me as the wine caught the light from the flickering candle on her table while she playfully rolled the stem between her thumb and index finger. I could almost smell the aromatic scent of the wine rising from her hand, a hand from which I could not look away.26

I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have her warm hand stroking my face or have her long graceful fingers wrap themselves around mine or to twirl ringlets in my hair. Never had a hand or fingers been so sensual so alluring as hers were to me. Her hand danced upon the goblet, as if making love to the wine, tasting the sweet nectar that was contained in her goblet and my soul ached to have that hand hold me and taste me in the same manner.27

Again, she took hold of the stem of her goblet, her little finger jutting out as if for balance while she slowly raised her glass until her hand painfully disappeared from my sight. Its enduring absence created a fear in me that I could hardly bear, similar to the fear created in the bikini world when there was a sever shortage of stretch nylon and Lycra and we had to...28

Ahhhh, What's wrong with me!!!29

Seeing her hand again, my fear was eased and she returned her goblet to the table but then she did something most unusual. Dipping her index finger into the wine, she touched it to the rim of her goblet and slowly followed the crystal brim, playing sweet music that called to my soul. The gentle humming of her song mesmerized me, as the song of the sirens, beckoning me with an irresistible calling, leaving me powerless to resist. 30

Rising from my seat, I moved toward her, slowly, cautiously, questioning my every step yet unable to protest. What was I thinking? I knew nothing of this woman. How could the sight of her hands and legs be enough to make me think that she was the one, the one for whom I have been searching my entire life? I never would have thought that “love at first sight” could happen to me, and who would ever believe that it could happen by seeing only the extreme appendages of the person you have fallen for, but that is what has happened to me, I was smitten!31

Reaching her table, I let my hand glide across its polished surface until it rested upon hers. She looked up at me and smiled, she was exactly how I had imagined her to be, exotic and very beautiful. “May I spend eternity with you?” I asked brazenly, somehow knowing that she would not reject my advances.32

She let her hand slip from her goblet and her fingers snaked themselves between mine. They were warm, soft, and ever so tender. Giving my hand a gentle squeeze she said, “I’m Summer.”
The magical happenstance of her name confirmed to me that she was my destiny, the woman with whom I would spend the rest of my life. Sliding into her booth, I found a familiar comfort, a warmth, like that of coming home. 33

At her side, we sat in quiet conversation as the only words spoken where those that she spoke through her eyes, her amazingly beautiful eyes that had me grasping the table to keep myself from falling into them. I had to share what I was feeling for her and leaning into her ear, I said to her the one thing that totally consumed my mind, “Costa Del Mar, Isabella Sunglasses, $139.00 on sale!” . . . 34

DAMN IT!