It was a humid summer evening and I had just gotten off work and was
heading home. I work in a high rise downtown in a midwestern metropolis
and seldom find time to go out of the building because it takes so long
to get an elevator to the street level and then to find another one back
up to the 23rd floor which houses my office.

I don’t usually find myself attracted to co-workers. To me they are just
part of the furnishings. As I shut and locked my door, I noticed the new
computer programmer, Steve, staring at me. I caught him in the reflection
of the glass of my office door. Realizing he was caught, he grinned and
started walking down the hallway rapidly. I watched as he walked away, head
erect, looking very casual in his Gap shirt and black jeans. (Friday was
“Jeans day” at work – morale thing, you know). He was about 5’8″ tal l,
with dark brown hair that hung just a little too low over his ears in
little ringlets. I figured him to be about 28 years old. I walked slowly
behind and occasionally he would look back and see me following and flash a
smile with his beautiful pearly white teeth. He seemed to be stalling while
everyone else got onto the elevator and was still standing in the hallway
as I approached.

I don’t claim to be Miss America and I seldom flirt with “younger” men
because my children are all grown and it would almost be like going to bed
with my sons. However, I couldn’t avoid the magnetic attraction that I felt
building between this handsome young man and myself. I’m nearing 50 years
old, short, a little too heavy, but I’ve been told I’m attractive. I have
shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes, and what one might call a
“Rubenesque” body.