This, That, and the Other

I am unofficially participating in this year’s A to Z Challenge. My theme this year is girlfriends.

N is for Nancy P.

Nancy was another one of the higher-up’s secretaries and she was a knockout. She looked like she could easily have been one of Hugh Hefner’s playmates at his Playboy Mansion. Her body was like that of a real-life Barbie doll. Large breasts, an incredibly thin waist, and a nicely shaped derriere. And her face was equally alluring. All the guys flirted with and fantasized about her.

My boss was friends with Nancy’s boss and Nancy would often come over to our department to drop things off from her boss to mine. On one of those visits, after dropping off a few inter-office envelopes (remember them?) at my boss’ secretary’s inbox, Nancy came over to my desk, held out her hand, and said, “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. I’m Nancy.”

I stood up, grabbed and shook her hand, and said, “Yes I know. You’re Mr. P’s secretary. Is there something I can help you with?” She told me that she was supposed to pick up something for her boss, but no one around to give it to her. I asked her what it was and she said a file my boss was supposed to give to her.

I walked into my boss’ office and found an inter-office envelope addressed to her boss. I took it off my boss’ desk and handed it to Nancy. She thanked me, leaned in, kissed me on my mouth, and started to walk away. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” I asked. She stopped, walked back to my desk, picked up a Post-It note, and wrote her phone number on it.

I called Nancy that night and invited her to go to dinner with me after work on Friday night. She readily agreed and everything was set.

I met her in the lobby of our office building on Friday and noticed she had an overnight bag with her. I asked her about it. She smiled and said, “I live in Northern Virginia, and you live in the Maryland suburbs. I’d hate to make you drive me all the way home from your place to mine late at night, so I figured I’d stay at your place tonight and you can drive me back tomorrow.”

I was planning on dinner in DC, halfway between our two places, but I adjusted my plans, figuring a quick bite to eat in my neck of the woods would be best. When we got back to my apartment after dinner, I told her I needed to take my dog for his walk and asked her if she wanted to join us, but she declined and said she’d see me when I got back.

When I walked back into the house about 15 minutes later, I didn’t see Nancy anywhere around. When I called her name, she told me she was in the bedroom. And there she was, sitting on my bed wearing a very sexy, see-through Teddy that revealed everything. Well, almost everything. The Teddy had an underbra.

I wasted no time in stripping off my clothes and we were off and running. But for some reason she wouldnt let me see or touch her boobs. I thought it a little strange, but there was a lot elsewhere to keep my attention.

I’m not sure how late it was before, exhausted, I fell asleep. But when I woke up in the morning, Nancy was already up and was getting dressed. She was crying. I asked her what was wrong and she look at the floor and at my dog. Scattered across the floor were small pieces of foam rubber and what was left of the bra that she was wearing under her Teddy. “Your dog ate my boobs!” she said, sobbing.

“Let me make us some coffee,” I said, and went to the kitchen. Nancy walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of her skin-tight jeans and one of my T-shirts. She pulled up her T-shirt to show me her chest. She was flat as a board. My boobs were bigger than hers.

Long story short, she hated being flat-chested but couldn’t afford a boob job. We talked for a few hours and I tried to reassure her that the size of her boobs didnt define her. But she was unmoveable. Then she said she’d give me everything I could ever ask for sexually if I would pay for a boob job.

I drove Nancy home that Saturday afternoon in awkward silence. That was my first and last date with Nancy P. I turned down her request to fund her boob job, but I never said anything to anyone else that Nancy was not all that she was stacked up to be.

Did I feel bad for her? Yes. But deceit and misrepresentation are not good ways to enter into a new relationship. Much less asking a first date to pay for cosmetic surgery. Seriously?

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