A/N: This story has been rated for mention of female reproductive organs. If you lived through human anatomy class, you should be able to come through this story unscathed. Just a little warning. I rated it WAAY on the safe side. Enjoy!
Miss Wendy Oppel. Even her name sounds organized and proper. She leaves at exactly 6:30 every morning for the gym. At eight o’clock she leaves the gym (still looking like she just stepped off the red carpet) for the bookstore. On Tuesdays, she stays until noon because there is usually a reading of sorts. Otherwise, she leaves at 11 o’clock with a few books. If it is under five, then they are chick lit. and I am free. But if there are more than five, then she is researching a new project and I would do well to do some research myself. Did you know that when you blush, the lining of your stomach flushes red too? Not every person you meet knows that, now do they?
“Driver? Are you prepared to leave?” Wendy asks. I reply,
“Yes, Miss Wendy. Do you wish to depart immediately?”
“Of course, if it is most convenient.” That’s Wendy-code for ‘Yes. Now.’
“Right away miss.” That is the extent of our conversation. When we are stuck in gridlock, I fantasize about striking up a conversation with her. We would start with something mundane, and it would progress to us passionately arguing a point. She would enquire about my life, and I would tell her about my dying mother and my brother overseas. She would feel pity for me, and attempt to comfort me. I would accept it and hold back my tears. She would see me as a many-layered person, and come to want me as more than a driver. We would be friends for a time, and I would then nudge it along to something less in the vein of friends and more in the vein of lovers. We would come to care for each other deeply, and be married within the year.
But alas, this all is but a fantasy. I know that the universe has cast us together for a purpose. How to make Wendy see that, however, is the great challenge. Wow! All that poetic stuff must be rubbing off on me. Interesting…
“Driver…” I hear from the back seat. This is a new development in our daily routine. We are at a red light, so I turn to Wendy. She is gazing out the window again. I say,
“Yes Miss Wendy?” She says nothing. I am once again stunned by her exceptional beauty. Either it is the gym or the dermatologist, but she looks as stunning as ever. I reply again,
“Did you say something Miss Wendy?” She turns back to me and says,
“Yes, I did. I was wondering, what is your name?” This is it, our first real conversation! I clear my throat and say,
“Stephen Hall, Miss Wendy.” She nodded and returned to staring out her window. Without another look at me she says,
“You fancy me, don’t you Stephen?” I swallow my cowardice and say,
“Yes, Miss Wendy.” She turns to face the back of the front passenger’s seat and continues,
“I feel that before you get your hopes up, I must tell you that I have no interest in you. None whatsoever.” We pull up at another red light and I am glad for it. I think that if we had continued driving I wouldn’t have been able to see where we would have been going through the moisture that now gathers in my eyes. I turn around and before I can think better of it I say,
“Not even the littlest bit?” Her beautiful blue eyes turn to me and for the first time I can clearly see the mocking sparkle of humor in them as she says,
“No. I feel more romantic toward this car than I do toward you.” I chuckle nervously and say,
“You must really like this car Miss Wendy.” She leans forward until she is less than a foot from my face and I can smell her peppermint breath. She whispers to me,
“Stephen, I’m a lesbian. You could be the most attractive and thoughtful man Earth and you wouldn’t turn my head one bit.” I can feel my eyes widen and I blink in surprise. I stutter out,
“H-honestly, Miss Wendy?” She laughs and says,
“I prefer the vagina, thanks very much Stephen. So unless you have a dirty little secret you would like to share, you and I can never be.” Wendy leans back against her seat. I don’t move. She waves her hand and says, “The light is green, Stephen. Drive on.” I turn and do so. Even such a shock as this can’t shake my automatic response to any command from Wendy. A question pops into my head and before my brain gets a chance to put two and two together and realize this is not a good question to ask, I say,
“So is there anyone you fancy?” Wendy grins and says,
“Well, that secretary of mine certainly is a hot young thing.” I smile, agree, and drive on.
A/N: I am not a lesbian. I like men. I have no problem with people who are gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Love is love and that's that. Thanks for reading! If anyone can suggest a list of different ways to say 'says/said', I would really appreciate it. Have a good day!
Gender:
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