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When I was in my early twenties I was working for a travel agency in my local high street. I was the only male and enjoyed the attention from the range of women working there. There were two girls my age and the rest were thirty plus. The person I got on best with was a woman named Jane, who knew no bounds when it came to flirting, she was 36 and married to Andy. The flirting was the usual stuff, a bit of office banter, until one day when we had to do a late shift and lock up together.

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Workman Chapter 2

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Work does pay

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XII. Mirror, Mirror. The woman framed in the glass wore a flower-print silk skirt, a white blouse, and a light black sweater cinched tight above the waist. It was the sixth outfit she'd considered that morning, not counting the dozen or so she'd tried on mentally, rejecting them one after the other with a shudder of second-guess horror before they even made it out of the closet. "What do you think about this? Too frumpy, right?" Walt was sprawled on top of the bed, head propped on...

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Patchwork People XIV Gimme Shelter

XIV. Gimme shelter. "You live in a garage?" They were standing on the little concrete square outside the front door, staring up together at a tidy two story structure that, modifications notwithstanding, still, in fact, looked very much like a garage. "Well, it's not exactly a garage. Actually, It's a converted carriage house. I'm just renting. The woman I work for owns it. She lives in the main house across the garden." "A carriage house? What's that?" "It's where they used...

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XV. Breakfast club. Sunlight poured through the checkered curtains of the kitchen window. The sliced bananas and butter were simmering on the stovetop. Marcia added to them spices she'd already toasted--cinnamon, nutmeg, clove. Together they filled the carriage house like incense. This was the Church of Home and she was performing the celebration of Good Morning. She measured out a half-cup of white flour and poured it into the mixing bowl. In another bowl she whisked three eggs, a...

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